Little m Long a

The last time I checked, I had successfully completed the third grade.  OK, successfully might be stretching it as a descriptor but I made it through.  And no, I do not have a diploma or letter of recognition to commemorate the occasion.  But then again, I come from an era where mediocrity was not celebrated.

It was expected.

It was generally assumed that if at the end of the third grade school year your name is on the list of students moving to the fourth grade that you had completed the requirements for the third grade.  There were no ceremonies, no pomp.  Just move along.

How is it, then, that I find myself once again in Mrs. Reed’s third grade classroom?

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Zane’s science teacher stopped me in the lunchroom yesterday, said she just had to let me know about what he had said in class.

“Oh Lord,” I audibly muttered.

Seems the discussion of the day involved something about adequate fluid intake.  The teacher had asked the class, “does anyone know what it is to be dehydrated?”

My mind immediately flashed to a morning just a few weeks earlier.  I had just picked up Zia and the twins from their morning classes and was loading them into the car.  I was literally standing in the parking lot–mere feet from the schoolhouse door when my cell phone rang.

It was the school nurse who was calling to let me know that Zane was in quite a bit of discomfort and I should probably come and get him.  Seems he was constipated.  (The problem was immediately resolved upon arriving home for in the comfort of familiar facilities he was able to rid himself of the offending load.  Yeah, I checked my kid out of school so he could go home and poop!))

Anyway, Zane and I had a long discussion about making sure he drinks plenty of water and keeps himself  adequately hydrated so that this doesn’t happen again.

So when the teacher asked if anyone knew what it was to be dehydrated I just knew Zane would be regaling the class with his tale of the reluctant turtle.  I suppose I was a little bit relieved when she said Zane had immediately piped up and said, “I’m not for sure.  But I know your pee gets real yellow.  And orange!”

4 + 4 =

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I read somewhere that being a parent is a lifelong process of learning to let go, truths of the statement ringing evident repeatedly just this past week.   We have said goodbye to summer and our beloved pool.  Zoë and Zane started school.  Just yesterday, we said goodbye to a little stuffed bunny.

Today, Zia started Pre-K.  She was been asking for weeks when school started and it nearly pushed her over the edge to send her big brother and sister off to school last week without her.  She was ready–whether I am or not.

I take great comfort in knowing that she is excited about school and will be well cared for there.  I also know that no matter how much they may fight, argue and bicker they love each other and are a team.

Have fun at school, guys and take care of each other!  The twins and I will be here when you get home anxious to hear of your adventures.

Today, Monday August 25 is the first day of school. I have two children in elementary school this year. Zoë will be starting Second Grade and Zane will be starting the First Grade. After Labor Day, Zia will begin Pre-K attending three days a week Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays in the mornings. For me, this is big. Real big.

I offer my kids to strangers, trusting that they will do the right thing. That they will care for my children as I do. I’m sending them to school. I should feel a sense of relief and relish the freedom gained if only a few hours worth. It’s not that easy.

As we transition some of the daily care of our children to members of our community—namely the educators we have entrusted to supplement and augment the fundamentals we have been teaching at home, concerns manifest. I worry. I fret. I pray that my children will be safe and that their love of learning and their love of life will continue to be nurtured.

I’m sending their teachers a little note…..

Dear Mrs. Teacher Lady,

Good morning and welcome to our school. (I know, that’s something you should probably be saying to me but really, with what I’m paying you guys in tuition, I kind of feel I have the right to call it MY school.) I trust that you had a wonderfully relaxing and enjoyable summer vacation. I know my kids certainly did.

We both knew this day would arrive, though I’ve got to be quite honest, I wasn’t expecting it quite so soon. It seems we had just gotten into a really good summertime groove. That’s OK. We had fun and now are ready for school to begin as I’m sure you are, also.

You may recognize my kids, having seen them around. In the coming months you are going to have the opportunity to intimately know my children. I’m sure that it will not take you long to realize that my little Zoë has an incredibly free spirit. She is an absolute bundle of joy and energy, she loves life and loves laughter more. She’s as smart as a whip but sometimes will need a little push because challenges tend to intimidate her.

Zane is not shy, don’t be fooled. He’s intense and will absorb every word you utter. Be careful what you tell him. His heart is larger than yours and mine combined. He’s a good kid. He’ll never back down from a challenge. Nothing is beyond him and he has no fear of the unknown.

I present them, Zoë and Zane, pure, eager and excited about learning. I expect to have them returned to me in the same manner. Your task is epic, your responsibility enormous. If I felt for one second that I could do what you so willingly do each day, believe me, I would. I know, though, that teaching is beyond me. Though unable myself to provide perfection I expect it from you. Sorry, but that is your lot.

I don’t expect you to do it alone though. I am here. My wife is here. We have committed to provide the greatest quality education possible and will do anything in our collective power to see that goal achieved. We are in this together.

Take care of my Zoë and of my Zane.

Because I have trusted you, they will, too. Do not forsake that trust.

Sincerely yours,

ELamaze

Ed Lamaze