Dame Edna and Morrissey should have been Latvian teachers.  They would love the gladiolas - the most popular flower to give your teacher on the first day of school. I don't know why. The first day of school in Latvia is a big celebration for students of any grade or university, everyone gets all dressed up and has a party after assembly, then goes home!

This one was an extra special beginning for us, because Mikus started grade one. We all woke up super early and super nervous.  Put on his linen shirt and tried to talk him into tucking his shirt in. This year I certainly didn't have the "should my son wear a mini-adult suit with a bow tie?" dilemma, like I recorded in this post - I've lived here long enough by know to be confident in which traditions we follow, and which ones are, well, just plain silly. And interestingly (and predictably) enough, it turns out that your kid couldn't care less what they wear, as long as their parent seems confident with the option.

Then we went down to the market to get some flowers for the teacher.   In my boys' opinion, the bigger the flowers, the better.  Typical males.

We only spent about a short time at school watching the opening assembly, where the grade ones are brought into the room, holding hands with grade nines - kids who are starting their last year at the school.  The whole time they come in, a bell is rung.  A solemn celebration, where the big, frightened eyes of the littlies make you get teary and smiley at the same time.


In the meantime, Tiss was with his class of fourth-graders.  Too cool for school.  Relaxed, joking, jostling mates who had been through it all before.  And in the blink of an eye, with the comparison of first grade and fourth grade in front of me, it brought the realization of what a long way Tiss has come, and also the calming revelation that Mikus would be ok.  That there was still a whole lot of learning and growing up to do, and it would all happen in the space of this lovely small school we have chosen to be ours.

PS.  No, contrary to popular belief, I didn't cut those fringes myself.  But I can confidently say we're never going to the local hairdresser again!