Why I Loved Going To School With My Siblings

Image credit: Josie Weingartner
Image credit: Josie Weingartner

Though my back-to-school days were a long time ago, I still vividly remember them. And if you’re like me and you come from a big family, you can’t think of back-to-school without thinking of your siblings.

I am the oldest of 5, so I was the first to start school and pave the way. Then, gradually, a sibling or two would join me at the bus stop each year as they came of school-going age. My brothers and sisters almost always had the same teachers I had, so I’d prepare them with stories about the class and what the teacher was like. I’d tell them important insider-info, like not to cry if the fire alarm went off because it was just a drill. 

I helped my mom pack lunches each evening before school the next day. All 5 of us are drastically different from one another, and our lunches proved that. My mom, who I’ll always attest is a saint, had no problem custom-making 5 different lunches, and I eventually had everyone’s preferences memorized.

I’d get really excited, almost proud, when I’d see my siblings at school. Our classes might pass in the halls or be in the library at the same time, and I’d wave or whisper hi to them. At home I saw them all the time, but at school it felt like a treat, a surprise.

Once we got to high school, the bond continued. I even had a class or two with my brother, which was awesome for me. If we had the same lunch period, we’d carpool with friends together and go out for lunch or drive home together and eat there. A lot of my friends spent their high school years avoiding association with their siblings, but I always welcomed it. We helped each other with homework, knew each other’s locker combinations, and complained about teachers together. 

Maybe I am a rare case, but I loved going through school with my siblings. We had our rivalry moments, as all families do, but there was an inevitable loyalty that never went away. We’d stick up for each other when kids on the bus bothered us; or, if my siblings came home with some kind of project,  I had probably done the project years before, and they could basically use mine as a template. To this day, I can say the US presidents in order and say the states in alphabetical order all because I helped my younger siblings memorize them for an assignment.

My brother, who is a year younger than me, just began medical school this fall. I remember helping him edit and revise his admission essays back when he was applying. This past summer at my wedding, he gave a speech and thanked me for helping him get into med school. I couldn’t help but remember all our rides on the bus together and all of our first days of school, side by side with our new backpacks and lunch boxes. 

I wasn’t there for my brother’s first day of medical school, but when he sent me an excited text before his first class, I knew I was there in spirit.

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