NINE

Monday, August 21, 2006

I'm 2 sack lunches, 2 nights of homework, a pile of fluorescent-colored PTA pamphlets, and approximately 7 little girl outfit changes into 4th grade. And I have to admit, I am so impressed with Sarah. She takes change with such grace. In 48 hours, she's cleared the formidable social hurdles of recess and lunch in a brand new school, not to mention a harrowing bathroom break ("I had to go REALLY REALLY BAD, Mom, and I didn't know where the bathroom was, and when I got there the doors SWUNG ALL THE WAY OPEN instead of locking right away!!!"), and somehow, she's Teflon through all of it.

It all started Monday morning, when 31 fourth graders entered their new classroom and the teacher flipped on the lights. The morning sun had been providing enough glare that the contents of the classroom weren't apparent until that moment, when each kid was greeted with about a foot of textbooks neatly piled on his or her desk. From the windows, the parents roared as little eyes grew wide at the sight of All That Work.

Summer -- and perhaps, goofing off in class -- was definitely over.

Sarah didn't give it a second thought! She chose a seat so close to the teacher, she could count the nosehairs.

On homework last night, a questionnaire asked her, what are some things you do well? She wrote:
I am kind and considerate to others, am good at art, and I don't mind eating fruits and vegetables.

The next one asked, what would you like to change about yourself? She answered:
I just want to be the best me I can be!

I hope the Mommy teardrops don't blur her writing too badly. I mean, how adorable is that?!

Nine is this funny age. The kids all looked so huge to me... hardly like little kids anymore, even though in the scheme of things, they still are. But there was a marked difference between these kids and the third graders. They just carried themselves so differently. They didn't all look like an ad for Target. They had their own styles emerging. Tucked in versus tucked out... top button done or undone... things the kids have power over, were purposeful this year.

There are things she won't tell me, secrets she'll share just with her friends. And yet she still can't fall asleep without a goodnight story. It's a bridging age... the problem is that I can't tell when I'm going to step on one of those big-girl moments and treat her like a "baby." I just have to be respectful and apologize when I do it. (Also she lays off me if I look like I might cry some more...)

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