From K to SATs

Kindergarten Orientation

My soon to be 5-year-old enters the big, brick building clutching my hand. Quiet and shy she hears her name being called by a complete stranger.

"It's okay to go with her," I said to my little girl. "She is going to play some games with you to show you what you will be learning in kindergarten."

My daughter began to cry and reluctantly went with this woman. She remained so upset that the school counselor allowed me to stand outside her office so my daughter can see her mom.

She began asking my daughter questions about the alphabet and gave her a pencil so she could write her name -- and I chuckled as I saw you still wrote the letter y backwards. She asks you to point to parts of your body and you were stumped when she asked, "Where is your shin?"

"Oh, darn, I never taught her that," I thought.

Her kindergarten orientation complete, we left the school and headed home. I was still in disbelief that my daughter was approaching her "official school years" although she had been in pre-school for a year— and for half that year, I had to unravel her fingers from the car seats, head rests and anything she could grasp onto in order for her not to leave and go to class. I remember calling the pre-school teachers many times after I left to make sure my daughter had settled down and they assured me she was sitting down working on her morning work at her desk. In fact, one time they walked me to her classroom door so I could take a sneak peak, and sure enough my little girl, who minutes before had attached herself to my body and had to be peeled off like a banana skin by her teachers was sitting and interacting with her little friends.

From kindergarten class through her 11th grade year — the big junior year with preparing for college — she has excelled and continues to try her utmost best as she has been rewarded with honors status and with the induction into the National Honor Society.

Today, my Sweet 16 young lady sat beside her mom in the car -- no car seat to be buckled in to, no tears strolling down her face, no clutching onto her mom's hand as a safety net -- on her way to take the SAT exam. 

Taking the SAT 

 I dropped her off at the big, brick building with her Number 2 pencils and calculator. I remind her that a test will not stop her from pursuing her dreams in life and that she will always be able to accomplish her desires.
"Good luck," I said.
"Thanks mom," she said with a bit of nervousness.
I watched my little girl walk through the doors — alone — without me —independent.
This time it was me with the tears strolling down my face -- not from sadness but from pride.

The Tophat

     It rested there on the table surrounded by dirty dishes. Dishes, I assumed, marked the beginning of a magical evening — a first date perhaps.
     We were led to our table right beside the black topper. As I sat down, I pictured a sophisticated man donning this hat. Dignified in his manner, he pulled his lady's chair out for her. He sat across from his lady companion and as she spoke of her day his eyes were locked upon the only face he noticed in this busy bistro.
     A waiter broke my image as he cleared the table and collected the tip, which I imagined to be very generous. He left the hat positioned in the center of the table and headed toward the kitchen with a tray piled with glass plates.

     Why would this man leave his hat behind? It would seem like second nature to him to keep it close to his person. I picked up my menu and glanced over the appetizers.
     "There it is!," yelled a voice. It's still  here!"
     I watched as a little boy — couldn't have been more than eight years old — ran to the table and reached for the tophat. He placed it on his head while holding a magic wand in his left hand.
     "Let's go my little Houdini," said a woman, who I gathered was his mother. "It's getting late."
     I turned back to my menu and chuckled as my debonair man headed home to sleep.

The Flying Nun

I am watching TV and my teenage daughter walks in to find me enjoying The Flying Nun. She sits down and laughs — not at the show, but at me. She turns to me and says, "I can't believe you watched shows like this when you were a kid!" In defense of one of my childhood favorites, I turn to her and say, "Well if Selena Gomez can be a wizard...then Sally can fly!!!!

Getting the Word Out

As this well-bred Beagle sat waiting for his food, he pondered what every All-American dog surely mulls over — Why aren't these keys paw-friendly?
As if slipping the paper onto the roller and into position wasn't challenging enough, thought this aspiring author.
"Something must be done," he said.
"I will write to my congressman!," he howled. "I will start a petition and send it to my senator. I will ask my fellow four-footed friends to boycott the typewriter. We will march down Pennsylvania Avenue until the President himself personally joins our cause. We will be heard!"
— "Now, all I have to do is figure out how to get the word out!"

Mirror Mirror

Looking in the mirror....perhaps trying to see into the future— this young  bride-to-be holds up her wedding dress dreaming of tomorrow. For tomorrow she will be placing a ring on her finger. With love in her heart and dreams to fulfill she is determined to make her marriage work. How can it not...when there is love involved?
Away with the nay-sayers who say love is just not enough. Be gone with those who believe she is too young. What do they know?
Afterall, she will be wearing her mom's wedding dress. A dress that her mom hand-stitched with love. A dress that was greeted at the end of the aisle by a caring man. The very dress that brought years of bliss to the most important people in her life.
The young bride's thoughts were suddenly disrupted when she heard her mother ask if she had finished dusting the parlor floor. The girl quickly placed the dress she will one day be wearing back in its box, picked up the dust rags she placed by the mirror and quickly finished her chores....Afterall, a girl can dream.