1L
The trial of saying hello to law school and goodbye to your son
My son Joseph begins his first year of law school today. He’s attending Widener Commonwealth Law School in Harrisburg, Pa.
At the Army and Navy military academies, the first year students are called a plebe. At law school you’re a 1L.
This past Wednesday, Joseph and I packed up a U-Haul with a leather couch, a steel desk I had managed to salvage from the Pearle Vision where I once worked before it was shuttered, along with an Ethan Allen end table, a coffee table from Grandma Ellen, his desk chair and a few boxes and totes full of clothes, neckties, and whatever other things he thought he might need over the next year.
Mrs. Lennon had been emotional the past week or so. But on Sunday afternoon, as Joseph prepared to head back to Harrisburg, his car loaded with all the last minute items, including a homemade lasagna from mom, it smacked us both in the gut.
It’s hard to explain. We’re happy. We’re extremely proud. Yet sad at the same time.
Not to be too morbid, but it felt, in a way, like a death.
I’ve lost my father, mother, brother, grandparents, a father-in-law and a family dog, and their passings all leave a hole in your life. It signals, to those who survive, the end of a particular stage of life.
It felt more like that, especially as a parent.
Joseph leaving for law school felt way different than when he was heading off to college.
For beginners, he was only half an hour away. And the fact he started college in the fall of 2020, after being stuck at home since March 13th — along with his three other siblings — made his leaving feel like sort of a reprieve.
And granted, he’s only two hours away now, an easy day trip, but there’s a feeling of finality to all of it.
The feeling and emotions are something you can’t learn from reading a book, or studying child development in a classroom, or earning a degree in psychology. There’s no What To Expect When Your Child Leaves for Law School in the parenting section at Barnes & Noble.
He’ll be home for the holidays. He’ll be home in a month, in fact, for a pickle ball tournament him and I signed up to play in.
But he may never live back at home with us for a stretch of, say, nine months, like he just has.
Our baby…is all grown up.
I mean, wasn’t it just 2001, when we were lying in bed discussing what year it would be, way into the future — 2020! — when he’d be graduating high school?
Didn’t we just take this newborn baby boy, swaddled in receiving blankets, home from the hospital during a July heatwave?
Weren’t we just shocked and amazed as we watched him read Dr. Suess one night in the children’s section of Borders?
His reading over the next few months will be a little more dense than One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish.
If we only knew then, the places he’d go.
Civil Procedure. Contracts. Property. Torts. U.S. Government. These are the topics he’ll be diving into and reading now. His first semester starts with a week-long “boot camp” orientation. He was already sent a brief to read. The case: dog bites man.
Last Wednesday at Target, where we had to run to pick up a lamp for his new studio apartment, along with light bulbs, hangers, and a garbage can, we were walking around the Back-To-School section of the store, discussing and laughing at how long he’s been in school.
So far, a total of 18 years, including one year of kindergarten and one year of pre-K, with at least three more to go.
His first test is Saturday morning! I’m sure he’ll do just fine.
Much better than me and mom did on our test having to say goodbye.