Ramona Had an Escort

We get books on CD every time we head out on long car rides. In fact, last time we

went to Stowe we listened to Ramona Quimby Age 8. Admittedly an interesting pick, considering the audience was a 6 year old boy and 3 year old girl.

I introduced the CD with a preface that started, "WHEN I WAS A LITTLE GIRL... I read all about Ramona...."

And then I could see in the rear view that Dec and Nonie had lost all interest in what I was saying.... So, I paused for a second.

I thought for a moment.

And then I RE-introduced the book on CD a different way:

"Nonie, Dec, we've got a long car-ride ahead of us and I'm going to pop a CD in now that I think you'll like. It is about a girl who always has band-aids on her knees. Her name is Ramona."

And without further ado,

They CLUNG TO EVERY SINGLE WORD.

Just so happens that this morning at 9:27am - I get a call from Dec's school that he has gotten sick in class.

Within minutes (no more than 10) I fetched Dec at the nurse's office. From the school's office, I could see into the nurse's room - his legs were stretched out on the cot. I saw his feet before I could see his face. It was then that I noted that his sneakers were covered in vomit splatter.

I entered the nurse's room with a parental guilt level of 100 on a scale of 1-10. I observed Declan was wearing clothing that we did not own.

Nurse's replacement clothing 2 sizes too small.

He looked so, incredibly awkward in these clothes.

Dec looked up at me and said without hesitation, "Mom - it was just

like in the book Ramona Quimby Age 8, I threw up. Then my teacher told all my friends to move to the caterpillar rug while I went to the nurse. Except that when I walked to the nurse, my teacher didn't ask one of my friends to walk me there."

He finished his statement and looked surprisingly relieved. As if, his story had been told and now he could get on with feeling awful.

I made eye-contact with Dec's school nurse at that point. Just wanted to acknowledge that she was there, and listening to his emotional update.

Clearly, he would have preferred to be escorted to the nurse with one of his wide-eyed, and anxious to leave the vomit smelling classroom friends. But this didn't happen for him.

And amazingly enough (I thought to myself), this is what he will remember about this day.

"Do you remember that Ramona's teacher had a friend walk her to the nurse?" Dec asked.

"Yes Dec, I remember, that was a nice part of the story, wasn't it?"

And I put his backpack on my back, and I signed him out of school. I said thank you to all who had helped care for my baby 6-year-old boy in my absence. And then I held his hand and I walked him out of school. I opened the car door for him, watched him crawl inside and closed it afterwards. Once I was inside, I told him that I was so sorry that he felt so sick.

And I told him

that

I love him so much.

How Could I Not? I Laughed.

He may remember that no one escorted him to the nurse. And Ramona had an escort.

He will remember being cheated out of a friend to guide him.

But, I will remember being his guide.

Raising the children.

I made it in to first grade today to help out and was immediately asked to find a comfy couch out in the hall where students would come, one at a time, and read to me.

I picked my spot.

The first tentative reader walked slowly out of the classroom and up to me. We opened his reading bag, spread the books out and he picked one.

It was a startling and beautiful moment, when his tiny voice, stumbled through sentence one.

He forged on, despite his struggle, and made up the words he didn't know.

Reader 1 read bravely and beautifully. And it was by his side that I began to feel so thankful to have carved this time out of my "crazed" schedule to be with him. I was his audience, and I focused on his every word and each colorful page he filled. After a while, he warmed up to me -----by book 3, and even gave me a smile after book 4, on his way back to the classroom.

Between readers 1 & 2, I had a few moments to take in my space. Loud (joyful) classrooms lined this common area. Mothers raced in and out of classrooms with Thanksgiving treats and crafts. Teachers skidded from one classroom to the next, swapping books and folders. Some volunteers sat outside classrooms with students next to them working on quiet tasks. Just. Like. Me.... (I thought).

Reader 2 was another, nervous boy. He opened his reading bag and insisted that he was not able to read any of them. After convincing him that I was so looking forward to hearing the book called "Perfect Home", he began it with a nervous laugh.

It was hard to hear his little voice over the steady hum of the classroom villages around us.

Reading is hard.

I thought.

(Noise or no noise, reading is hard).

His questioning finger scanned over some words and paused over most.

Reading is really hard.

But he read so well. We made it through all 4 of his books. He sounded out and worked through some tough words and I was impressed with his focus and ability to keep working at a word he didn't know.

I told him that I was impressed.

And, when I did, he shyly tucked his neck into his shoulders as deep as they would go.

He made his way back to the classroom to tap the next reader on their shoulder.

And so these readers came to me and left me. Oh, I was sad when they left me.

Each reader was markedly different from the next.

The 5th reader to walk out to me was my son. He had his smug smile on because he just loves to have me in his school (he told me this last night).

I pause right here to capture in word only what a picture can truly show **** Declan's proud smile *****!

Declan read proudly, occasionally looking around to make sure everyone saw him reading with His Mom. He too, made up the words he didn't know, just like the rest of them. It must be a first grade thing.

When we were done we met up with his entire grade in the cafetorium where they were rehearsing their Thanksgiving show and where I, to the tune of happy first grade singing, was to pin colorful corn husks to the curtains on the stage.

On my way there, I couldn't believe how good I felt to have just read with these tiny people. I felt so grateful to the other parents who had spent time in the classroom this year.

AND, of course, I felt a million times more grateful for my son's first grade teacher. I can't imagine trying to teach reading to 2 dozen students with vastly different reading abilities - all at the same time.

It is so cliche to walk the halls of an elementary school thinking that "it takes a village" to raise these children. But, that was my thought as I walked. Because it does, take a village.

My final first grade task was to assemble a book within an earshot of my son while he ate lunch with his pals. By this time, he'd forgotten I was there.

But I had not forgotten he was there.

I watched his every move.

When the lunch assistant came to him and reminded him to eat the rest of his sandwich before he began eating his cookie, I was as impressed with her as I had been with myself earlier on the reading couch.

If it doesn't take a village, I'm a firm believer that it takes, numerous, well-intentioned, people in our elementary schools.

This post is dedicated to all those who have helped me raise my children without me knowing it.

Am I Brave?

When I was in first grade, I had a best friend named Claire.

She and I put on a Frog & Toad skit about seeds growing.

I wore a green sweat suit. She wore her brownies uniform with brown paper warts taped to it.

Her big sister helped us rehearse after school one day, and though I

was shy, she really helped me memorize my lines. Also, Claire's warts fell off a lot.

To say the very least, the experience was memorable. And Claire is still my best friend.

This evening I picked up the Frog & Toad book she gave to Dec on his first birthday.

I read the inscription from her to him.

He sat clean and cozy in his bed tonight, the first night, of his first day - of first grade.

His baby sis sat up on his bed with him.

The story we read was about being brave in the face of dragons and in the shadows of giants.

I love the story because it begins with Frog and Toad wondering if they

are brave. "Are we brave?" They wonder. And it ends with the two saying to each other, "I am glad to know a brave person like you!" Then Frog hides in a closet and Toad hides under the bed. They stay there for a long time. Feeling very brave together.

Earlier today I combed Dec's hair, re-buttoned his shirt, watched him leap down the front path to the huge awaiting school bus...helped Nonie straighten her skirt, tightened her backpack straps and lifted her out of the car in the school parking lot... while my eyes overflowed with tears. I cried because the completion of each tiny morning task - from serving up their granola and yogurt to snapping their first day of school pics - meant I was one step closer to saying farewell to the ones who help me feel brave.

Bookends

I had an interesting day.

It started with a cryptic message from one of my students.

(interpret: I have a new name. Love, Avery)
She then tried to make everyone call her something else.

It ended when I taped all the desks together.
Take that!