Giving Credit Where Credit is Due

Late last year when I was in Blogging Avoidance Mode, I let slip by a perfect excuse to sit down and bang out an entry when Zoë was named Student of the Month at her elementary school. Caught up with holiday distractions and full of excuses, I put the topic off until it was filed by my cluttered mind as "Too Old To Blog About." But last week, my actions—or lack of them—came back to bite me in the butt.

Much as I hate to admit it, I wasn't even present for the presentation of the award. Still trying to learn the routines at Zoë’s new school, Kelly and I hadn’t paid given much thought to the slip she brought home announcing that she was to be recognized at a morning ceremony. We assumed it was to acknowledge that she'd reached an Accelerated Reader milestone—something to be proud of but not worth dragging a potentially disruptive (and at the time, sick) Zienna in for. Kelly eats that sort of stuff up, so she attended for both of us.

Imagine my surprise and disappointment when Kelly called from the car to tell me what had happened. Massive parental guilt ensued. I apologized profusely to Zoë after school and assured her that had I known, I'd have been there with bells on—and that it would never happen again. I was frustrated that the announcement had been so vague, especially since nearly every kid in her class received one for the aforementioned AR certificates. But really, I had no one to blame but myself. I owned up to my mistake and asked for her forgiveness, and Zoë seemed OK. But if I’d blogged, she'd have known for sure how proud of her I was. Ahem.

Flash forward to week before last when Zach's school sent home a rather formal invitation requesting our presence at its awards ceremony. Having received his straight-A report card during vacation, we knew why, and we marked our calendars at home and at Kelly's work. There was never any doubt that we—all of us—would be in attendance.

And yet, upon arriving at Zach's school auditorium Wednesday night, we learned it was an even bigger deal than we'd imagined. Yes, he'd made honor roll, but then so did roughly two-thirds of his class. What we neither knew nor suspected was that his school breaks down its honor roll into three levels, and by attaining a 4.0 grade point average for the semester—one of just a handful of sixth graders to do so—he was lumped into the elite group bestowed with the title "Principal's Honor Roll." Wow.

The ceremony dragged as such things tend to do, and we high-tailed it out as quickly as possible afterward. Once in the car, we showered Zach with praise and made it a life lesson about hard work and sacrifice, especially since Zach had struggled after getting sick mid-term. By the time we got home, it was all satisfied smiles and euphoria—with one exception. Zoë was visibly upset. When I asked what was wrong, she reacted, as is her nature, by withdrawing and going silent.

Dropping to my knees, I begged her to open up. And on the verge of tears, Zoë looked me in the eye and asked why we hadn't made nearly such a big deal over her Student of the Month award. Oops. She was absolutely right. I accepted the well-deserved emotional sucker punch, but that didn't mean it hurt any less.

Acknowledgment and apologies were administered profusely, and by the time Zoë turned in, I felt confident that amends had been made. But my lesson had been learned. And you can be darned sure that the next time there's an awards ceremony—ANY awards ceremony—I'll be in the crowd cheering for her at the top of my lungs.