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| Genevieve on her first day of school this year. |
It's Tuesday evening in my house and everyone is tired already, wishing it were Thursday. Actually, everyone is sleeping but me. I'll be up for a few more hours grading tests. But I wanted to take a few moments to write down my conversation with Genevieve tonight. It spoke to my heart. She was all tucked in, cozy in her flannel "I woof you" puppy pjs, and contemplating the deeper messages of Lois Lowry's
Gooney Bird the Fabulous, Fabulous, Fabulous, Fabulous as she drifted off to sleep. Then, she sat up in a panic. "Mom, is everything in my folder for tomorrow?" She had asked me this twice already. First grade is the real deal, and Genevieve feels it. Though she likes school, she especially likes the feeling of right
after school (if everything has gone alright), when she can relax and know that she has done her job well. She practices her spelling words, reads her book two or three times, and makes sure that her math worksheet is perfect. "Can you check this, Mom?" she always asks, diligently erasing and retrying when I point out a mistake. Then, homework complete, she rolls around on the floor with her baby brother or draws endless pictures to post on the refrigerator. The stuff she
really loves.
I admire you, Genevieve, I thought, as she once again snuggled quietly under the blanket, finally secure in her preparedness for the next day. You have focus and tenacity. You'll be o.k. A few minutes passed. I was about to get up to leave when Genevieve's quiet, sleep-laden voice questioned me again: "Is tomorrow Friday?" Her voice was full of hope. "No, Genevieve, tomorrow's Wednesday." "Oh. Is the next day Friday?"
Not yet, I told her. Finally, she got the answer she wanted. "And then it's the weekend, right?" Yes, it's the weekend. Not long now. Not long now ...
