Friday, June 18, 2004
Page 15
AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)
End of Second Grade Is a New Beginning
By J’AMY PACHECO
It was just nine months ago that I sent my daughter off for her first day of second grade. And now, it’s over.
Nine months—that’s longer than it took for me to grow and deliver my little preemie. But—pardon the cliché—it seems like only yesterday that I assured her second grade was not as scary as the first grade teachers made it seem and sent her off to learn to multiply numbers.
Second grade turned out to be interesting. It was the year my daughter started hanging out with a girl named “Allie,” another former preemie who can be mistaken for my daughter’s sister.
Both girls are incredibly smart, good little Brownie Girl Scouts, and about as weird as girls can get, behavior-wise. It was with Allie that my daughter learned the game called “Hit the Dirt,” in which players throw themselves to the ground every time a car passes the campus. If two cars pass close together, the players simply twitch until they’re gone.
It was with Allie that my daughter ruined a lot of good clothes. But that was okay.
It was in second grade that my little brainiac won the school and district science fairs for the second year in a row. It’s not a result of genetics; I think it’s her bizarre sense of humor that gets her experiments noticed.
It was also in second grade that my daughter learned the standardized tests she’d been dreading since first grade weren’t so bad. Not only were they a great deal easier than she’d been led to believe, but the students who spent two weeks in May testing were spoiled at school with treats and movies.
Not a bad way to pass 10 afternoons, if you ask me.
It was in second grade that the wish my daughter uttered at her pre-school graduation finally came true. Just three years ago this month, she stood with her tiny graduation cap on her head and announced, “When I grow up, I want to be a cowgirl.”
And last month she was, when she got to wear a rhinestone tiara on her pink cowgirl hat and play “Miz Lurleen” in her school’s drama production of “Bubba, the Cowboy Prince.”
It was in second grade that she learned the fun of writing letters and getting answers when she sent a holiday greeting to Minnie Mouse and received not only a personalized letter, but also an 8-by-10 photo in the mail. That was very cool.
In second grade, my daughter learned about heartbreak when a boy named Brandon said he liked her, shared candy, and dumped her a few days later. But almost immediately, she attracted the attention of a little boy named David who keeps inviting her to the movies, despite my admonitions that she’s too young to date.
Probably the worst time in second grade was the day she received a number for peeling a tiny sticker from a rock in her science class. Numbers are disciplinary measures given to students who do things they’re not supposed to do, and result in the student having to spend afternoon recess in a classroom with their head down, contemplating their crimes.
The day my little felon got her number, the detention teacher was so surprised to see her that she blurted out her name and asked what she’d done to merit the punishment. That was probably the most humiliating moment of her young life. Certainly of her second grade year.
Although I thought the punishment was overkill, I made her write a letter of apology to the teacher who’d given her the number. But it stung even me a few days ago when I learned that event had kept the little girl who voluntarily picks up trash every lunch period just to earn the praise of the noon duty supervisor from being designated a “good citizen” for the year. I guess it’s true what they say—crime doesn’t pay.
Second grade was also the year when a teacher suggested my high-achieving little girl had “peaked,” leaving me to wonder what kind of future my daughter faced.
I don’t know about that, but I do know what the near future holds. She’s made wish list of things she hopes to be able to do in the next three months to use up the vacation days Mom’s been saving.
And then, it’ll be time to send her off to third grade, where she’s already been advised to expect strict discipline and hard work. Yikes.
So, it looks like we’re going to need these three months; to let David’s romantic enthusiasm cool, to practice good citizenship, to have some fun, buy some new clothes and maybe figure out long division.
Because three months will be over before we know it…
Copyright 2004, Metropolitan News Company