on first grade and fritos

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

Charlotte Potts taught me first grade.  

We started every day by writing in our notebooks.  It looked like this:

Today is Tuesday, September 7, 1981.  It is sunny.  Today, we have Gym.
After carefully writing the day's details with our number 2 pencils, we had to write a sentence all of our own design.  They looked like this:

This weekend, we are going to the zoo.
Or:
My mom bought me a new dress.  It is pink. 
But usually, it was some narrow variation of this:
I love Mrs. Potts.
I loved Mrs. Potts with my whole six year old heart.  When the advanced reading group met at the table at the front of the room (on the left, up by the floor-to-ceiling chalkboard, you know?) for Open Court, Mrs. Potts invariably ate a bag of Fritos.  

To this day, I LOATHE Fritos.  I am pretty sure it was her only "flaw."

Also?  By first grade, I was pretty sure I had my shit together.

*     *     *     *     *

Jack completed kindergarten last week.  

He had a marvelous year.  He grew -- vertically, emotionally, academically, and socially.  He learned -- Pokemon, math, reading, and tall tale telling.  He bonded -- with his wonderful teacher, his best new friends, and even some friends who proved challenging to him.

And now, with the intrepidity of youth, he's ready for the next challenge.





*     *     *     *     *

I was pretty emotional the night before Jack's last day of kindergarten.  I can't lie.  I mean -- it's totally relatable and it's also platitude central, right?

The days are long but the years are short. 
Childhood is but the blink of an eye. 
There is no love like that of a mother's heart.

Or, as the Interwebz so poetically puts it:

Time is an asshole. 

The truth is that the years are short.  They fly by mercilessly as a blur of soccer practices, negotiating bedtimes, frantic dinner preparation, and weariness at the end of the day.  

But, dammit, they are also a handful of exquisite, crystallized moments -- our butterflies on the first day of school, the awesome field trip, the wonderful Ms. Voyce, the crazy fun Valentine's Day party, and so many laughs and memories and joyful bits.

And so once again, by first grade, I'm pretty sure I have my shit together.

I know Jack does.

Hope your day is full of sweet memories and free of corn chips.

Talk soon,
Heather

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

on first grade and fritos

Charlotte Potts taught me first grade.  

We started every day by writing in our notebooks.  It looked like this:

Today is Tuesday, September 7, 1981.  It is sunny.  Today, we have Gym.
After carefully writing the day's details with our number 2 pencils, we had to write a sentence all of our own design.  They looked like this:

This weekend, we are going to the zoo.
Or:
My mom bought me a new dress.  It is pink. 
But usually, it was some narrow variation of this:
I love Mrs. Potts.
I loved Mrs. Potts with my whole six year old heart.  When the advanced reading group met at the table at the front of the room (on the left, up by the floor-to-ceiling chalkboard, you know?) for Open Court, Mrs. Potts invariably ate a bag of Fritos.  

To this day, I LOATHE Fritos.  I am pretty sure it was her only "flaw."

Also?  By first grade, I was pretty sure I had my shit together.

*     *     *     *     *

Jack completed kindergarten last week.  

He had a marvelous year.  He grew -- vertically, emotionally, academically, and socially.  He learned -- Pokemon, math, reading, and tall tale telling.  He bonded -- with his wonderful teacher, his best new friends, and even some friends who proved challenging to him.

And now, with the intrepidity of youth, he's ready for the next challenge.





*     *     *     *     *

I was pretty emotional the night before Jack's last day of kindergarten.  I can't lie.  I mean -- it's totally relatable and it's also platitude central, right?

The days are long but the years are short. 
Childhood is but the blink of an eye. 
There is no love like that of a mother's heart.

Or, as the Interwebz so poetically puts it:

Time is an asshole. 

The truth is that the years are short.  They fly by mercilessly as a blur of soccer practices, negotiating bedtimes, frantic dinner preparation, and weariness at the end of the day.  

But, dammit, they are also a handful of exquisite, crystallized moments -- our butterflies on the first day of school, the awesome field trip, the wonderful Ms. Voyce, the crazy fun Valentine's Day party, and so many laughs and memories and joyful bits.

And so once again, by first grade, I'm pretty sure I have my shit together.

I know Jack does.

Hope your day is full of sweet memories and free of corn chips.

Talk soon,
Heather
 
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