Ella will start the second grade on Thursday. I know I say this about every new school year but…second grade is a big deal.
She had open house tonight and got meet her teacher, put away supplies and inspect the room. She found her locker. Counted desks and compared her new classmates to those of the last two school years. (Ella plus two other kids have been in class together all three years.) She has a desk this year instead of sharing a table with at least one other student. She has been issued textbooks (science and reading and handwriting). She will have weekly homework and daily reading.
Second grade is a big deal.
I vividly remember second grade. I remember bits and pieces of kindergarten and first but I could blink and be back in second grade. I remember crying. A lot of crying. My dad had taken a job with the railroad and was gone more often than he was home. My mom had just started working outside the home. It was 1982 and the economy sucked. It was the beginning of hand-me-down clothes and free lunch and babysitters. It was also the year that I got taken out of the classroom for reading and sent to the fourth grade room to study with them. Well played, 1982. Each of those events marked me for what remained of my grade school years.
I have high hopes for the next 180 school days. I have every intention of assuring 20 minutes of reading per day and making sure that the piano is practiced before going out to play after school. I’d like to say that I’ll be home more often that not but it’s not looking like that’s the case. The trade-off, I hope, is a happy (happier) mama and a little breathing room in the budget. Maybe not as many hand-me-downs and/or free lunches. Maybe.
You’ve noticed the change in attitude, right? I am unable to describe it right now. I don’t even have the word. Okay maybe I do.
Maybe the word is Hope.
Hope, of course comes from Joy and is followed by Faith. Or, maybe that was just a circa 1982 basement macrame wall hanging.
I have high hopes. For the second grade. For Mrs. H and her seven years of experience and her calm demeanor.
I have high hopes for our family. I have reason to believe that the worst, the absolute worst, is behind us. I can see hope sparkle in the distance where, before, it was inky darkness. And maybe the sparkle was always there and just needed to be shined up a little.
180 school days.