I am officially a Mom to a middle school student. All year long I have been dreading this shift, this phase of the growing up process. I would much prefer my kids just stayed at exactly the age they are now, eternally. Well, except The Vampire, he can grow up just a little bit more.
But thankfully, after attending open house at the middle school, and meeting the sixth grade teachers, I am no longer fearful and losing sleep over my new middle school student's abilities to succeed in the neighborhood school. Whew. Thankful for that. Justice feels the same way, and is no longer afraid.
Things are changing for my boy, though. He is finding that he's bored with his same old yearly routine. Basketball, soccer, football, repeat. He decided he wants to try some new things next year. Basketball and football are out. He no longer wants to play those sports and personally I am ecstatic. He has decided to stick with soccer, and has tentatively added swimming to his rotation of sports. He intends to run track and he's also been selected to be a member of the "Honor Choir" in middle school. They have several "nerd clubs" at middle school that he's chomping at the bit to join, too. I'm happy with his decisions. The Coach is happy for him too, but a little piece of him died inside when Justice stopped playing football and basketball. The Coach was supposed to be Justice's head coach for football this year, and he took it a little hard because he loves to coach football so much. I'm a pretty flexible parent. I think that's because I'm not good at any one particular thing. I suck at sports. I was an awesome swimmer and long distance runner "back in the day", but I never competed in those things, and was never ever part of any team sport of any sort. So I don't really care what Justice wants to do, I just sort of tag along and yell "GO JUSTICE" whenever it's appropriate. I am REALLY thankful that The Coach isn't one of those Dad's that force their kids to do things they don't want to do... He is a little out of his comfort zone with this "Honor Choir" business, and swimming is definitely not his thing... But he is very supportive of Justice and will be right there with him, cheering him on no matter what he chooses to do.
Elementary school was a great experience for Justice because he was blessed with great teachers. I love living in a small country town where the teachers call the kids "baby" and "sweetheart" and give hugs out freely. The kind of teachers that have called me after a sick day from school to find out if he was feeling OK or to tell me about something funny that happened during the day. The pledge of allegiance was said every morning before school, and time for personal prayer was allowed directly after. The kids are still paddled in his school (yes, seriously) and the lunch ladies are sweet women that actually cook the food in the school and want the kids to be full and satisfied with their lunch. His environment made it very easy for him to excel.
This is the part where I brag about how awesome he did in school this year. I've raised all sorts of kids. We've raised smart kids, average kids, and kids that have struggled mightily. I remember when Joneya finally buckled down and got her GED after dropping out of high school and having a baby. I sang her praises to the heavens and back for that. I was SO PROUD of her. Raising a kid like Justice is a piece of cake. Raising the straight A student that loves to do homework and study is EASY. Raising the kid that eats their homework on the bus and drops out of high school is NOT easy. Raising the kid with a learning disability (Jamaal is dyslexic) is not easy. So I laugh a little when parents of super smart kids hop all up on their soapboxes and spout mountains of praise for their easy-to-raise kids. Raise a Joneya and then you have my attention. It also annoys me when the parents of kids of the hard-to-raise variety don't hop on Facebook or wherever and brag about those kids. If your kid has struggled all year long and brought that F up to a high D, then brag about it! Don't be ashamed! If your kid finally gets their GED, freaking throw a party and celebrate. That's how we roll in the Mack house, and all kids deserve to be praised for the good things, especially when they are harder to achieve for them than the easy-to-raise kid.
Enough of that... this is why I blog. To document things so they aren't lost in the future. I don't have any records of report cards or awards in school for me or even for the older kids. I will have better records for the younger kids, so when their kids ask them "how did you do in school?" they will actually be able to give them a solid answer.
Dear Justice,
You had a great time in elementary school. You loved every teacher and administrator in that school, and they loved you back. If only I had a dime for every time a teacher told me how sweet, well behaved and smart you were. You earned straight A's from Kindergarden all the way through 5th grade, and I'm so proud of you. You did all your homework every day without complaining, and most times without even needing to be reminded. You worked hard at every project and in every subject. Your favorite subject has always been Math. You NEVER earned less than a 100% on any spelling test that I can remember. You were always very disappointed that you couldn't earn the perfect attendance award because of your doctor's appointments for your ADHD. You did not get in any sort of trouble in school, and were chosen to be the "Character Kid" or "Citizen of the Month" several times.
You received more academic awards than I can count. Your school gave out buttons instead of certificates for awards.
There was only one grading period that you didn't earn the Math Award. That grading period you did earn your first Science Award though. You were Top Reader on many occasions, and always were on the A Honor Roll. You were that kid that the other parents got aggravated with because as long as you were in the class, nobody else had a shot at getting any of the core subject awards.
You did a fantastic job on your TCAP's every year, scoring a 99 more than once. You consistently scored off the charts at a 12+ grade level on your STAR testing.
You don't like to read. You don't have the patience for it. We make you read anyway, for at least 15 minutes every day. You do it without complaining. Thank you for that.
You loved "Saturday School" or "Nerd Camp" as I affectionately call it. Every single Saturday with the exception of football season, you went to school. And you loved it.
You represented your class in the Spelling B four years. You always made yourself sick over it, and hated it. You never made it past the third round.
You also earned many athletic awards during elementary school. Running was your specialty, and you earned many ribbons for winning races. You never once earned the "PE Award", and that's because your desire to win is a little annoying sometimes. You have worked very hard at becoming a better sport and having better sportsmanship. Winning is NOT everything, although you and The Coach seem to forget that sometimes.
School wasn't always fun though. Before you were diagnosed with ADHD, you struggled. You cried every single day after school. You wanted to behave, but you couldn't. You couldn't pay attention. Once we figured out exactly what the problem was and treated it, you thrived.
You struggled with "nasty backpack" syndrome. I still to this day don't quite understand how you were able to be so successful with such a disorganized backpack. We keep telling you that's not going to fly in middle school.
You HATED riding the bus. The kids were foul-mouthed and mean, and you hated it. You begged me to take you to school every day, but I made you ride the bus. You can't run away from bad people your entire life, the bus is a good controlled environment to learn to deal with those kinds of people. You disagreed, but that's OK.
You were skinny. REALLY skinny. And not very tall. Not short, but not tall. You've told me several times that you are the "fourth shortest" kid in the class, and that includes the girls.
You never ate lunch. We argued over and over and over again about you not eating lunch. Not a home lunch, and not a school lunch. Your medication for your ADHD curbs your appetite.
It's bittersweet for me to close this chapter of the book and move forward. I really don't want to. You are growing up so fast, and I need you to slow down some. I know my little boy is about to become a teenager in a few short years and I'm not ready. I have enjoyed your childhood so much, and I know that you will be a great success in middle school.
I love you,
Mama
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