The Letter

Evan’s new school year predictably starts with a note from his teacher asking if we could meet her (it’s always been a her). So it was this year, and it was because he was answering all her questions and not giving his classmates a chance. “I would if they knew the answer” was his simple reply when we talked to him. We helped him understand the value in giving others a chance, but we weren’t terribly concerned. The teacher and Evan usually reach an understanding quickly and the rest of the year goes smoothly.

So I thought it was just that when his teacher complimented Evan at pick up from school on Thursday, a few days later. “Evan had a very good day. And he was very good at writing his letter”, she said.

Evan usually doesn’t like to talk about his day right after school. As we drove away from school we joked about it in our usual way: “I hope you didn’t learn anything today” I said as seriously as I could. “No I didn't! I was awesome at not learning anything” he replied. I never got to asking him about writing his letter.

On Saturday evening Evan’s school hosted the annual welcome party, the Fiesta de Bienvenida. Jo and I left the kids at home in Sofia’s capable 15 year old hands and stopped at La Condesa for a couple of drinks before making our way up to the 6th floor garden in the new downtown Library building for the party. Soon Jo and I got separated and I ran into the new head of school and his wife.

Back story: the new head of school is different from the last. She was a big, loud, smiling, booming presence. He is a small, pale, precise, reserved guy. He wants kids to be quiet in the hallways and parents to get the kids to school on time. Not seemingly unreasonable requests. But the school and it's constituents are used to being loud and late. So it's a change and changes are never smooth. People were beginning to murmur about his South American credentials - or was his just a gringo who can speak Spanish? I felt like I needed to tell the man that I support his new policies.

So back on the 6th floor garden at the Fiesta de Bienvenida, wine glass in hand, I told him. He thanked me, introduced me to his wife, and said that it seemed like everyone in my family wasn't of the same opinion. I assumed he meant Jo, who he had probably just run into. Turns out that he had just met Jo. She later filled me in that she had said "I'm JoEllen. I don't think we've met". To which he replied that he knew who she was, and that her son Evan was in the 3rd grade.  

But no, Jo hadn't disagreed with his new policies. He explained that "Evan wrote me a letter in which he disagreed. It was a strongly worded letter". Then he went on to explain that the entire 3rd grade had written to him on Thursday, and that he remembered Evan's letter. He used the word "strong" again.  And that he was going to reply to all their letters.

I was happy to hear that Evan is following in Vivian's shoes. Later, the next morning, Jo and I asked him what he had written to the head of school. "I don't remember" was all we could get out of him for a while. Finally when pressed, he said "I told him we needed more experiments in science and some other things". 

Can't argue with that.

Oh - and we saw the head of school and his Ecuadorian wife dance later that evening. He's no gringo.

A Day in Your Life

Vivian, here’s a bit of what your day looked like last Thursday - from what I know.

Your alarm went off the same time as mine - 5:15am. You quietly dressed for running and packed a towel and change of clothes to shower before school. Then you wandered out to the kitchen. You made yourself snacks for recess and I toasted you cinnamon bread for a light breakfast. We left the house at about 5:45am and you arrived at Zilker Park a few minutes before your coaches. When they got there in the school van, you and your schoolmates transferred your school bags, changes of clothes, snacks, and water bottles to the van in the early morning darkness. You gave me a quick hug and I took off for a 3 mike walk around town lake while you started warming up for your runs. Your coaches, Jake - your math teacher from last year, and his wife Mallory, took you through some shorter runs. Your long run that morning was a 30 minute run. Last Sunday, you had your first cross country meet and your first 2 mile run, which you finished in about 19 minutes on a very muddy trail.

An hour later, by the time I returned to the parking lot where you had started and it was now light, you were in the van and the coaches were driving you across the street towards Barton Springs pool bath house for y'all to shower. Some days you run along the toy train tracks that go under the street to the bath house and the coaches meet you there with the van.

You dug into your first set of snacks and ate a bar and drank some juice during your short ride to school, getting there sometime before 7:55am for your first class of the day, advisory with Mr. D. You followed that with math, world cultures, speech & debate, science, language arts, writers workshop, and perhaps some other classes along with a morning recess and a break for lunch. Along with hopefully furthering your formal education, you discussed your latest crush with your friends (code name Aqua), and chatted about Cardi B, race relations in America, and gender identity.

At 3:30pm you and several schoolmates walked across the street to one of the rooms in the Methodist church where Mrs. Vitris met you for play practice. You rehearsed your dance from Singing in the Rain. You left the practice early and walked out at 4:30pm and waited for 3 minutes at the street corner, long enough to warrant an eye roll and arms thrown up in the air when Mom, Evan and I showed up.

We drove in rush hour traffic while you hungrily snarfed down a pbj that Mom had made for you, to arrive at the Austin Sports Center in south Austin in the pouring rain in time for your 6:00pm volleyball game. You warmed up with your team while your volleyball coach taught me the basics of using a volleyball scoring card and I scored your game.

Mom and Evan and a scattering of parents cheered from the bleachers as your team beat the competition in two straight but tight games (26-24, 25-22). You played a good game and served well. After a few high fives and celebratory hugs, we ran in the rain to the car and fought the remnants of traffic towards home.

We stopped at Whole Foods for dinner. You ate what you picked up from the buffet and the mushrooms that Evan fished out of his dinner for you and a few Reese’s peanut butter knockoffs (healthy or just more expensive?) while Mom bought groceries and Evan and I slurped noodles.

We got home at 8:15pm, about fourteen and a half hours after you left home that morning.

A few minutes of trading friendly insults with Evan, a shower, homework, a quick chat/FaceTime with your friends, and in bed by 9:00 with a book. I had napped in the afternoon - which I am hoping you hadn’t, so I stayed up longer. I noticed your lights were still on at 9:30pm but your room was dark by 10.

You went through the day and your activities with calm and generally good grace with no complaints and very little attitude. As far as I can tell, you tried and succeeded in doing a good job at what you set out to do.

And that’s another day in your 6th grade life.