Since my first child went off to kindergarten in a mist of tears–both hers and mine–I have volunteered in the classroom or the school every year. I wanted to be there to see and understand my children’s world, to let them know how much I value their education, and to support and encourage the teachers and staff.

That first day was in 1992. By the time my youngest graduates, I will have been a school volunteer for 25 years. That is a lot of reading groups, field trips and worksheet grading.

In the elementary years, most of the teachers were happy to have a parent in the classroom to be another pair of hands and eyes to help. I did art projects, gave make-up spelling tests, spent individual time with struggling readers, supervised recess and jumped in to help where needed.

In one first-grade class, I came every Friday, filed the week’s papers and prepared the take-home folders for all the students. In other classes, I brought cookies for parties and class lunches, decorated bulletin boards, cut out craft pieces, and put together and sorted take-home reading books.

A few times, I worked with individual kids on writing projects. As I read their stories, I was sometimes confused, unable to figure out what they were trying to express. “What are you trying to say here? Tell me the story,” I would ask.  As we talked and they told me about their families, their dreams, and their ideas, this small task grew into a relationship.

There were a few dull moments, and some tasks I did not enjoy–sorting crayons, sharpening pencils, doing dishes in the classroom sink and drying them with brown paper towels–but generally, the time went quickly, talking, working  and laughing with the kids and other parents.

For the most part, I think my kids were happy to have me there, though I’m sure it was embarrassing sometimes–when I grabbed them and hugged them, or called them by an endearment instead of their name.

Once they got to middle school, they were less likely to want me in class, but didn’t mind me coming along on field trips–as long as I didn’t try to eat lunch with them.

In high school, I found new ways to be at school: proctoring for tests, checking textbooks in or out, or working at the front desk. That’s my volunteer job now–greeting visitors, directing them to right building and answering phone calls. I love being  a part of the school community and getting the inside scoop.

Volunteering at school gave me a way to see my kids’ lives away from home, at a place they spend so much time. I wanted to know their friends and  how they interact with their peers. I think my kids were watching me too. I hope they were picking up how much I valued the work being done at school, and the fact that I liked to be there.

I was helping at registration this fall when some boys from one of my kid’s sports teams came by, including a boy my son has known since second grade.  Another child came through the line that I recognized from a reading group in elementary school. “HI Nick!” I said. “Do you remember me from fourth grade reading?” He’s a junior in high school now, but he did remember. I hope that being known and cared about by a mom at school makes their school experience a little more positive.

There is a little over a year left in my school-volunteering career. I have loved my time investing in the education of my kids and my community. I think there will be tears on the last day, too.