Elementary School is the New High School — For Mothers

I walk through the school yard, heading back to my car, ready to roll into work. Small groups of moms stand around the play area, chatting and drinking coffee from commuter mugs. My insecurities kick in and I wonder what group wants me.

Where do I fit?

There are the moms of older kids, who know everything about the school and how my kid will behave since they’ve been through it already. Sometimes they like to talk to me, to give me advice. I play dumb and grateful.

There are the soccer moms, probably rearranging car pools for the fourth time this week. My son doesn’t play soccer so that group is not for me. I also don’t fit in with the moms with money – I didn’t even know that “development” was another word for fundraising before my son started school.

Sometimes I feel like I’m back in high school.

It doesn’t help that I’m not good at broaching groups. I don’t know how to break in. If I nudge my way into the group and listen, am I invading personal space? If I laugh too loudly at some not so funny remark, or add my own comments, am I interrupting? I somehow missed the life lesson about how to properly infiltrate a group.

I find it easiest most days to be the working mom, too busy to stop. I smile and keep walking, trying to project purpose, somewhere to go. I nod hellos, sometimes tap lightly on a mom’s arm or pat a back.

Maybe by middle school, I’ll find my place in the school yard.

By Marianne Lonsdale