Grade Schooler

Who knows how this happened, but it would seem that we have a son in Grade One. There he is on the front porch with his Sens backpack, his balanced school day double lunch, and money for a math book and an agenda. He's a full-fledged "school-aged kid" and we're pretty darned proud of him. He's excited about the whole thing, too.

When the bell rang, Jeremy and I joined the back of the grade one line forming at the playground door of Carleton Heights. Sam was graciously tolerant of our beaming smiles, photo snapping and "you'll love it and you're gonna do great" waves. Probably because most other kids had similar fans in the wings. It's a big classroom, jam-packed with a universe of topics to explore—a really great place to be. We reluctantly pulled ourselves away once all the kids were settled on the carpet, where they begin the day. We wished we could have stayed for the whole thing and watched him discover grade school. If only just the once.

At pick-up time, Sam reported that he liked his teacher (Allison Cathcart is wonderful), liked his seat assignment (with Sai, up front), liked the activities and stories (esp. French), liked the idea of going to the gym three times a week, and liked eating lunch in the classroom. He did have one (unintentionally) funny story which may resonate through his whole academic career. It went something like this:

"When it's time for nutrition break, there isn't a bell—we just have to watch the clock. Well, I think our classroom clock is broken. Cuz when the teacher was talking and we were doing our activities, the big hand didn't move hardly at all. But when it was finally time for a break, I took only one bite of my sandwich and the minute hand went straight up to the 12 just like that!"


Yes. The broken clock. I think some of my classrooms had those, too. Well, with any luck, time will soon fly when he's learning just as fast as it does when he's eating. I know it's flying from our perspective...