08/31/2026
🐊💙 **A Back-to-School Letter from Goggles the Gator** 💙📚
Tonight is going to feel a little different around Garden City.
Tonight, many members of our Garden City Pool family will get ready for bed earlier than they have in a long time.
There will probably be some crankiness.
Some negotiations over bedtime.
Some frantic searches for missing school supplies.
Backpacks will be packed and repacked.
First-day outfits will be laid out.
Lunches will be made.
Alarm clocks will be set.
And parents will say those familiar words:
**“You need to get some sleep. You have school tomorrow.”**
For the first time in months, tomorrow morning won't begin with thoughts about bathing suits, sunscreen, swim bags and whether it's a good pool day.
It will begin with backpacks, buses, classrooms and first-day pictures.
Because summer is giving way to something new.
**A new school year.**
Tomorrow, teachers who spent part of their summer here at the Garden City Pool will trade their pool bags for lesson plans.
They'll walk back into classrooms and begin another year helping the next generation discover the world.
English.
Math.
Science.
Social Studies.
Art.
Music.
Languages.
And so much more.
But we know that's only part of what our teachers really teach.
They'll teach children that getting something wrong doesn't mean you stop trying.
They'll notice the student having a difficult day.
They'll encourage the child who doesn't believe in themselves yet.
They'll answer thousands of questions.
They'll celebrate victories that seem tiny to everyone else but enormous to the child sitting in front of them.
And somewhere this year, without even knowing it, one of our teachers may say something to a student that changes that child's life forever.
To every teacher in our Pool Family heading back tomorrow:
**Thank you.**
And then there are the kids.
Our wonderful GCP kids.
From our littlest Pool Family members beginning Pre-K…
all the way to the seniors beginning 12th grade.
Tomorrow, thousands of little stories begin.
Some children will walk into the same building they've known for years.
Others will walk into a new school for the very first time.
Some will start kindergarten.
Some will start middle school.
Some will start high school.
And some will wake up tomorrow morning for the beginning of their **last first day**.
Some kids won't be able to wait.
Others will be nervous.
Some might be scared.
They'll wonder who their teacher is.
Who they'll sit next to.
Whether they'll know anyone in their class.
Whether they'll find their locker.
Whether they'll make the team.
Whether the work will be too hard.
Whether they'll make friends.
Whether they'll fit in.
And Goggles wants every kid in our Pool Family to know:
**Being nervous is okay.**
Being nervous doesn't mean you aren't brave.
Sometimes being brave means being scared and walking through the doors anyway.
And tomorrow, somewhere during those first few hours of school, a teacher will probably ask one of the most famous questions in education:
**“So… what did everyone do this summer?”**
And that's when our worlds come together again.
Because someone will raise their hand.
And they'll say:
**“I went to the Garden City Pool.”**
Maybe they'll talk about the slides.
Maybe they'll talk about swimming with their friends.
Maybe they'll talk about movie nights, activities, music, special events or afternoons spent running around until their parents practically had to drag them home.
Maybe they'll remember finally getting brave enough to jump into the pool.
Maybe they'll remember learning to swim.
Maybe they'll remember the lifeguard who always smiled at them.
The attendant who knew their name.
The friends they couldn't wait to see every morning.
The ice cream.
The laughter.
The sound of water splashing.
The feeling of the sun on their face.
Or maybe they won't remember one specific thing at all.
Maybe someday they'll just remember a feeling.
**Summer.**
Because that's the strange thing about childhood.
You don't always know you're making a memory while you're making it.
You're just living.
You're just swimming.
You're just laughing.
You're just sitting beside Mom or Dad eating lunch.
You're just asking if you can stay another ten minutes.
And then somehow…
those ordinary days become the days you would give anything to experience one more time.
And maybe that's why tomorrow morning will be emotional for some parents, too.
Because parents notice something their children usually don't.
**How quickly this all goes.**
Tomorrow morning, parents all over our community will stand outside their homes and take first-day-of-school pictures.
“Hold up the sign!”
“Stand next to your brother!”
“Smile!”
“One more!”
And somewhere there will be a teenager rolling their eyes because Mom or Dad wants another picture.
Let them take it.
Because parents know something you don't know yet.
They remember another first-day picture.
One where the backpack looked enormous on your tiny shoulders.
One where you were missing a few teeth.
One where somebody had to hold your hand walking toward the building.
One where Mom or Dad stood outside after you disappeared through those doors and wondered how their baby had possibly gotten old enough for school.
And somehow…
tomorrow they're taking another picture.
Except the backpack doesn't look so big anymore.
The little hand that once grabbed theirs doesn't need to anymore.
Maybe you're starting middle school.
Maybe you're walking into high school.
Maybe you're driving yourself.
Maybe tomorrow is your **last first-day picture** before graduation.
And Mom and Dad are standing there wondering:
**When did that happen?**
When did the little kid running around the Garden City Pool become this person standing in front of them?
When did floaties become diving boards?
When did kindergarten become senior year?
When did “Watch me, Mom!” become “I'll be home later”?
When did holding Dad's hand become grabbing the car keys?
There isn't an answer.
It just happens.
Quietly.
One summer at a time.
One school year at a time.
One first day at a time.
That's why Goggles has a little assignment for all of our parents tomorrow.
**Take the picture.**
Even if they're embarrassed.
Even if they're cranky.
Even if they tell you you're being annoying.
Take it anyway.
And kids…
Give Mom and Dad a break tomorrow.
Stand there for thirty seconds.
Smile.
Maybe even give them a hug.
Because while tomorrow might simply feel like another first day of school to you…
to them, it's another reminder that you're growing up.
And they're incredibly proud of the person you're becoming.
Tomorrow our Pool Family scatters in a thousand different directions.
Our teachers return to their classrooms.
Our lifeguards and attendants return to high schools and colleges.
Our little ones head into elementary school.
Our bigger kids head into middle school.
Our teenagers walk through the doors of high school.
And our seniors begin that strange, wonderful, emotional collection of **lasts**.
The last first day.
The last homecoming.
The last school picture.
The last season.
The last time walking through those doors as a student.
And eventually…
graduation.
But that's tomorrow.
Tonight, you're still here.
Tonight, you're still the family that spent another summer together.
So before everyone goes to sleep tonight, Goggles hopes you'll remember something.
Summer didn't disappear.
**You carry it with you.**
You carry the friendships.
You carry the confidence.
You carry the laughter.
You carry those long afternoons when the biggest question in the world was whether you could have five more minutes in the pool.
And when school gets hard this year—and sometimes it will—remember the kid you were this summer.
The kid who jumped into the water even when they were nervous.
The kid who kept trying until they could swim across the pool.
The kid who walked up to another child and made a new friend.
The kid who climbed the steps to the slide even though it looked really high from the bottom.
That kid is walking into school tomorrow.
**You can do this.**
So tonight, sleep well, GCP Family.
Tomorrow morning, the alarm clocks will ring.
The buses will arrive.
Classroom doors will open.
Teachers will welcome their students.
Parents will take their pictures.
And another chapter will begin.
To every student from Pre-K through 12th grade:
We are cheering for you.
Be kind.
Work hard.
Ask questions.
Make mistakes.
Help someone who needs it.
Sit with the kid who's alone.
Introduce yourself to someone new.
Thank your teachers.
Call your grandparents.
Hug your parents.
And don't be in too much of a hurry to grow up.
Because someday, many years from now, you may drive past this pool with your own children in the backseat.
And you'll look through those gates.
For just a second, you won't see concrete and water.
You'll see your childhood.
You'll remember your friends.
You'll remember your family.
You'll remember the lifeguards.
You'll remember the music.
You'll remember running across the grass with wet hair.
You'll remember begging for five more minutes.
You'll remember the summers when you thought September was impossibly far away.
And maybe you'll smile.
Because you'll realize something you couldn't possibly understand while you were living it:
**Those weren't just days at the pool.**
**That was your childhood.**
And to the parents reading this tonight…
Someday the swim bags won't sit by the door anymore.
The little bathing suits won't hang over the railing to dry.
There won't be tiny sandals kicked off underneath the chair.
Nobody will ask you for money for ice cream.
Nobody will tug on your arm asking if they can stay just a little bit longer.
Your children will grow up.
They are supposed to.
And you'll be unbelievably proud of them when they do.
But it's okay if a little part of you wishes you could have just one more afternoon with the little kid they used to be.
One more cannonball.
One more dripping-wet hug.
One more:
**“Mom! Dad! Watch me!”**
One more:
**“Can we stay five more minutes?”**
That's why these summers matter.
That's why these pictures matter.
That's why these ordinary days matter.
Because childhood doesn't announce when it's leaving.
There isn't a final bell.
You usually don't know when you're experiencing the last time.
One day, you simply look back…
and realize it happened.
So treasure tonight.
Treasure tomorrow morning.
Take the picture.
Give the hug.
Say, **“I'm proud of you.”**
And then let them walk through those doors.
They're ready.
Even if you're not quite ready to watch them go.
🐊💙
Goodnight, Garden City Pool Family.
Good luck tomorrow.
From our smallest Pre-K student to our biggest senior…
**Goggles is so incredibly proud of you.**
Go fill those blank pages.
Go make mistakes.
Go learn.
Go grow.
Go become whoever you're supposed to become.
And whenever the school year feels long, whenever the homework piles up, whenever winter arrives and summer feels impossibly far away…
remember that the pool is still here.
Waiting.
And before we know it, those gates will open again.
The backpacks will be put away.
The bathing suits will come back out.
And we'll hear those familiar footsteps coming through the gates once more.
Until then…
**Have an amazing school year, GCP Family.**
We'll miss our summer kids.
But we can't wait to see the people they become.
**Love always,
Goggles the Gator 🐊💙**
