"Tomorrow, do thy worst, for I have lived today."

My son has just gone off to his fourth day at his new high-school.  And he seems like a new kid.

He has somehow 'lightened' over the past three days and, even though it was difficult starting at a new school at 13 (and halfway through the term), he seems to be thriving there.

He has made new friends and re-connected with old ones.  The girls seem to like him and he's having fun.  He even enjoyed sport this week which is unusual for him.  The class was small and more relaxed and no one was 'watching' him like he felt they were before.  He has always hated being watched.  As a little boy of three years, we took him to play a little soccer at our local oval with other three year-olds all kicking the ball and running amok.  He hated it because everyone was 'watching' him.  We couldn't understand it because, in truth, we were the only ones watching him; all the other parents only had eyes for their kids.  But he wouldn't participate and so we let it go.

Funnily enough, in grade three, he took up netball!  A sport that is often associated with girls was perfect for him because it is truly a team game; as you can't run with the ball but only pivot on one foot, you must rely on your other team-members to achieve a goal.  He didn't care what the other boys said about him for playing a traditionally 'girls' game; he said, I just want to play.  And play he did - until he turned 13 and wasn't allowed to play on a mixed team any more.

He also persevered with basketball but it was tough going as he's not a naturally aggressive person and likes to share.  But he stuck at it throughout the summers (netball is a winter sport here in Australia) and gradually grew taller and stronger than most of his team-mates and started to thrive on the court and on the competition.  It was wonderful to see the evolution of his abilities and his father and I were there to cheer him on every week.

But last year and this year at his old school, he was forced to swim and he hated it.  He's never been a strong swimmer and getting into your bathers and thrashing around in front of kids who love to give you shit already, was  not something that endeared him to the pool or the subject of Physical Education on the whole.  He ended up not taking his bathers and getting detentions.  And when he was diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive and Tic Disorder, he became a little obsessed with being 'watched' again.  He got all worked up over the sport aspect of school, although he still seemed to enjoy long jump. Teenagers find the whole idea of others looking at them problematic at the best of times; it's a natural and normal part of growing up and being obsessed with 'self'.  But he took it further than most and it seemed to compound all his other fears and slipped over into his academics.

Anyway, this week has been great.  He seems to have really come into his own.  Having a relaxed uniform helps - no stupid tie or belt or blazer and no silly regulations about rolling up the sleeves etc. Also, no prayers or religion classes has also helped!  He looks good in his new uniform but he looks relaxed and comfortable.  He feels as though he can be himself for the first time in ages. He's doing well so far in the academic stream and, although he has had no homework as yet, I have every confidence that he will be more organised and more willing to complete his tasks without being hounded by me.  Not that I am into 'hounding'; as a high school teacher myself and used to motivating teenagers to read and put pen to paper and think on a daily and hourly basis, I was never really into coming home to my little nest and having to motivate my own children!  My patience was pretty-much used up from the day's efforts already.

So this has been, for now anyway, a story with a happy ending.  Of course, being a teacher of language and literature and cultural and media studies, I know there is no such thing.  Life goes on  like a series of bumps and ditches - unlike a traditional narrative with its climax and denouement.  But for now I am going to enjoy the fact that we won this little battle and that my husband and I have been the best parents we know how to be.  That, of course, doesn't mean we are always good parents (I especially am not always a great mother - believe me!)  But we will celebrate the fact that today we were.  And that's all any of us can ever do.

To quote the Victorian novelist Samuel Butler, "Do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day's own trouble be sufficient for the day."