There She Goes Again

After missing Zoë's moment in the spotlight at her school's December awards ceremony, you can bet I took things much more seriously when she brought home another award notification letter earlier this week. There was no doubt I was going to be there for her this time. Neither flooded streets, forest fires, nor wild horses themselves could have kept me away from her campus yesterday, even though—once again—I had no idea how or for what she was to be recognized.

Good thing I'd learned my lesson. Because for the second time in four months, Zoë was, to my utter shock and surprise, named Student of the Month.

With schools turning increasingly to "each child gets a turn" faux awards in an era where everyone wins and youth sports teams don't keep score, Turtle Bay's Student of the Month is a legitimate award given to just one child per month from each class. With twenty students in each second-grade class and ten months in the school year, it's obvious not everyone's going to get one, let alone two. And yes, I'd have been happy and proud of Zoë had she received either of the other two awards presented at the ceremony—one for citizenship and one for embodying the school spirit. But I certainly wasn't going to complain about what actually happened, either. If I hadn't been videotaping the big moment, I'd have been jumping up and cheering like a madman.

That I'd not been present when Zoë received the same award in December made it that much sweeter that I was able to be there this time. And, the fact that we'd switched Zoë's teacher and classroom just three weeks ago made the latest award a bit more special, too. Though Zoë had seemed happy in her original class at the start of the school year, she'd quickly began to struggle. Kelly and I tried everything to make it right, including communicating frequently with her teacher and meeting with her very supportive principal, Mr. Woods. But as rides home from school continued to be crying sessions and Zoë's unhappiness affected her behavior and, increasingly, our family, we knew it was time for a change.

And so we did it. Zoë isn't big on change and was very nervous at first, begging over the weekend before the move to cancel everything and leave bad enough alone. But from the very first day in the new class, there was no doubt it was a better fit for her. Suddenly, Zoë was cheery instead of grumpy when I picked her up. She began showing confidence with her schoolwork again instead of self-doubt. She started getting ready for school before we'd even gone in to wake her, rather than fighting to stay in bed and skip school. And her behavior, thankfully, began to improve.

And then she made Student of the Month just three weeks later. That she'd settled in that quickly and made enough of an impression to warrant such recognition seemed a clear sign that we'd done the right thing. Mission accomplished.

Later in the day, Zoë was again singled out when her teacher deemed her the class' "Star of the Week." And while, yes, this is one of those "each child gets a turn" faux awards, I'm quite sure it was an even bigger deal to Zoë than the honor bestowed upon her earlier in the day. Because this time, she got to bring home the class' mascot, Blackie the bear, for the weekend. And as we all know, borrowing an over-loved and tattered stuffed animal is a lot more fun to a seven-year-old than actually getting to keep some silly old piece of paper—even one that says you're Student of the Month.

But that's OK, let the bear make Zoë happy. She's earned it, and besides, I've got the paper. And once I've smoothed out all the wrinkles it received after being crammed into Zoë's backpack, I'll be tucking it away alongside the other mementos that remind me how lucky I am to have such awesome kids calling me "Dad." And how proud I am of them—especially when they can bounce back from adversity.

Note: To view the video below in higher quality, click the arrow icon in the bottom right corner as it begins playing, then click "HD." Then, if you wish to view the video in full-screen mode, click the screen icon just to the left of the arrow. Enjoy!

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.