Eighth Grade is Gone

Today was the last day of eighth grade. I’ve seen Z mature this year.

• I did less policing during homework sessions.

• He wrote and delivered a great speech during the eighth grade speech event with no help from me. He wouldn’t even let me hear it until the assembly. (His teacher gave him the Speech Award for his effort.)

• He wrote a few blogs and a few responses in school.

• He read a few books outside of class and a decent number inside of class. It seems like the best way to keep him reading is to immerse him with different titles, especially titles with crude humor or about things he keeps asking me questions about.

I didn’t think I’d cry at the assembly today, and I didn’t –at least not until after some longtime friends who know us well, said touching things to me as we were on our way out of the program.

I lost it.

They were commending me, congratulating me. But I cried due to pride because of what they had done with their sons and daughters.

Their children, our children, were honored today. I know what the research says about our children, and despite it all, their names were called repeatedly for academic awards and honors. Who wouldn’t be touched by that?