And That's That

"The two best days of school, the first and the last."

Shhh. Do you hear that? Listen to that hum. It is the sound of children, mothers, and teenagers alike whooping and hollering for the end of what may have been the longest school year on record. If you listen closely, you can hear a joyful chant, "No more school, no more books, no more teachers' dirty looks YAH." My seventeen year old just informed that she never uttered such a chant. I told her that the moms of my generation know it. We chanted it every day on the playground.

This little guy graduated from sixth grade today. It seems like just yesterday that I was sending him off to his first day of kindergarten, sporting his Spiderman shirt and shoes with matching backpack almost as big as him.

He's become quite the young man, and a smart one at that. Here he is, about to receive a special award for "Overall Academic Excellence". And he deserved it. He came home to show us his report card of a year of straight 3's. For those of you who don't understand the new lame elementary grading system, this is the equivalent of a 4.0. He set the goal at the beginning of the school year to earn nothing less than a 3 in any subject, and he was the only child I never had to nag to do his homework.

The graduation ceremony was a lovely affair. All kinds of speeches, poem recitations, and songs about reaching for the stars, oh the places we'll go, the time of our lives, and the road less traveled. Spencer was the only instrumental musical number. And he played marvelously.

Once he had received his certificate and a hearty handshake from all the teachers and the principal, he was ready to blow this popsicle stand.

He had no desire to give his final goodbyes to classmates or to take a farewell picture with his teacher. The doughnuts over in the gold neighborhood didn't even entice him. If it weren't for the backpack he left in the classroom, he would have been out the gym doors with barely more than a "Good Riddance" slipping from his lips. So different than his sisters before him. 

So that's that. One last picture in front of the elementary school before moving on to bigger and better things.

We finished the afternoon with a celebratory calzone from Brick Oven. This may have been part of the reason for his flight from the school. The boy likes himself some pizza. Just me and him, dipping our bread in hot marinara, discussing the things he won't miss about elementary school, and the things he looks forward to in junior high. 

"Do you think I'll have as much drama over missing assignments as the girls have had, when I get into junior high?" he asked.

No, Mr. Overall Academic Excellence, I don't believe you will. In fact, your father and I are banking on the fact that you won't. This glimmer of hope is what keeps us going. Keep your eye on the 4.0 kiddo, and you'll be just fine. But for now, enjoy your pizza. You've earned it.