I’m in a reflective mood this evening. Tomorrow is my youngest’s last day of kindergarten, and my oldest’s of third grade. I’ll spare you the cliches about time passing, but know I’m thinking them.
I’m not really sure how to feel at the end of this year. I don’t know what lens to choose.
It’s been a hard one in many ways. Lina has struggled with waxing and waning behavior issues over the course of the year. (Hello, old friends “non-compliance” and “social aggression.”) We’ve had to work exceptionally hard – much harder than I expected, after our comparatively breezy preschool experience – to get the communication we needed from Lina’s special ed team. Math has been challenging for her. I’ve spent a lot of time worrying about things I have little control over.
Corin has had his struggles, too. He is a bright student who has spent this year learning about the increased accountability of letter grades and real homework assignments. We’ve worked hard to keep the responsibility of those things with him, rather than taking them on ourselves. That’s meant making peace with B grades for a kid who’s capable of straight As. He’s also still the kid who collapses when he gets home after the strain of meeting expectations all day long at school. He’s the kid who can’t function without 10-11 solid hours of sleep, and the kid who has trouble acknowledging difficult emotions and expresses them with outrageous emotional outbursts.
But… But, but, but. It’s also been a GOOD year. Lina was reading on a first-grade level by mid-way through kindergarten. She has made so many sweet friends in her class, and their families have gone to extra lengths to include her. The room mom this year was extraordinary, hosting more than one social event for all 20+ kids in her own back yard. Lina’s classroom teacher was a living example of the kindergarten teacher every kid deserves: so kind and encouraging, but gently prodding her students to grow and do their very best. Her love for those kids was evident in every interaction. Toward the end of the year, Lina triumphantly read the school’s mission statement (including the phrases “balanced education” and “lifelong learners”) over the P.A. to the entire school during morning announcements. The staff in the room applauded when she was done.
Corin is currently reading Lord of the Rings (which, I here admit, I didn’t manage to finish until college). He has gradually pulled his grades up, entirely of his own accord. He has made new friends, explored new interests, and shown flashes of surprising maturity. His teacher had a tough class this year, with some challenging behaviors, but she handled it with tremendous skill and grace, never lowering her bar for the kindness and respect she required. She cared about her kids and was deeply committed to their learning, both in academics and in the skills they’ll need to become responsible adults. Corin has continued to develop his vivid imagination and his love of writing, and it’s clear he takes after his mama in his love of story and communication. He has built a wide circle of friends, and has bonded further with a couple very close ones.
So how do I summarize all that has come with this school year? I suppose, like so much of real life, it defies easy categorization. It was messy and hard and glorious and necessary. It was beautiful, in that the two children I love the very most successfully navigated another year of learning and growth.
I worked from home today, which meant I didn’t have to run out the door before the kids were awake. I lay beside Lina in her bed at 6 a.m. and read her stories. Corin came and snuggled in. I was tired and needing another hour of sleep. They clambered over and around me to poke and tease each other. It was silly, and chaotic, and exhausting, and beautiful.
Happy summer, friends.