Reading Time: 2 minutes

There should be a ceremonial drum roll when your child starts high school.

Maybe a choir.

Possibly a small parade, because what actually happens is less “graceful transition” and more “emotional parkour with snacks.“

One minute, we were standing at the school gates with a slightly oversized uniform and a child who still looked like he belonged in a stationery advert. The next minute… it’s the end of term. Finished. Done. Curtains.

Excuse me, what?

 

RUGBY: FROM KICK-OFF TO CARDIAC ICU

Rugby didn’t just start. It exploded onto the scene like a firework with a gym membership.

We got grit. We got heart. We got tackles that made us question our own skeletal integrity. Then … life reminded us, quite sharply, that this journey isn’t always just bumps and bruises. 

Instead of routine sports injury, we found ourselves in hospital, with our son admitted into the cardiac ICU. What a WOW!

Yes. That escalated quickly. 

It was the kind of moment that stops everything. The noise, the rush, the term-time madness… all of it fades into the background while you focus on what really matters. 

He showed incredible strength through it, and we came out the other side with a whole new level of gratitude, perspective, and respect for his resilience. 

Safe to say, this rugby season opened with a plot twist none of us saw coming.

 

PARENTING: THE GREAT IDENTITY CRISIS

High school doesn’t just change your child. It quietly hands parents a new operating manual… written in invisible ink. 

Suddenly:

• “Let him figure it out” becomes a daily mantra
• Hovering is frowned upon (deeply inconvenient)
• Independence is encouraged … for everyone

We found ourselves walking a tightrope between stepping back and stepping in. Between giving space and still showing up loudly when it mattered. 

Somewhere in that dance, we also nudged the school toward more inclusive communication, because families don’t all look the same, and information shouldn’t play hide-and-seek depending on who you are. 

Progress all around. For them. For us. For the group chat.

 

THE WHIRLWIND EFFECT

If this term were a relationship, it would be the kind that sweeps you off your feet, spins you around, and disappears before you’ve even found your balance.

It was fast. It was intense. It was equal parts magic and madness. 

One minute: new beginnings, nerves, labels on everything. 

Next minute: “Please sign the last test … reports coming soon.“

And now we wait. 

Patiently.

Calmly.

Pretending we are not mentally calculating every assignment since January.

 

THE HOLIDAY QUESTION

And now, the real test begins.

The holidays.

A vast, open landscape of time… with no timetable, no bell, and no teachers to outsource responsibility to.

Will he:

• Discover hidden talents?
• Entertain himself like a well-adjusted independent young man?
• Or slowly orbit us like a confused satellite asking,  “What are we doing today?” every 17 minutes?

The odds are … mixed.

But one thing is certain: this first term has been a ride. The kind that leaves your hair wild, your voice hoarse, and your heart very, very full.

High school has arrived. Loudly.

And if Term 1 is anything to go by …. we might need helmets for the rest of the year!