After years of learning at home, my 10-year-old son, who has Down syndrome, was finally given the chance to go to a regular school. He was happier than I’d seen him in years. But just five days after he started, I got a phone call from the principal that left me shaken.

“Why so early?” I laughed.

“I just don’t want to be late tomorrow!”

I kissed the top of his head and thought, We did it. We actually did it.

Friday morning, I dropped him off at the curb. He hopped out with his backpack bouncing and his Field Notes in his hand, then turned around and gave me a huge two-armed wave, the way he did every day that week.

Across the parking lot, Celeste Rowan was climbing out of a white SUV with a tote bag on her shoulder and a lanyard around her neck. VOLUNTEER, it said in big blue letters. She saw me, gave me a small, tight smile, and walked into the building right behind my son.

I didn’t think anything of it. Lots of parents volunteered.

I drove home, made coffee, and started the laundry. I remember thinking how quiet the house was. How good it was, for once, to have a quiet house.