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.

Summer in Autumn: The Sequel

If you can get away with celebrating Fourth of July in late October, then surely you can pull off a water balloon fight in early November. Right? Apparently so, because that's just what we did a few days ago.

Saturday before last was Zach's school’s harvest festival, their biggest fundraiser of the year. As a member of the booster club, I’d volunteered to man a booth for the event. And when they said "man," they meant "man." With few dads willing to help, I was placed in charge of what the club's president felt was a man-ly selection, the Water Balloon Slingshot Toss. Despite my visions of nothing but unruly high school-aged boys with destruction on their minds as my patrons, I agreed.

As slingshot commandant, my duties included helping fill enough balloons to help keep the booth running for three hours. It's a good thing I wasn't expected to do it alone, since the goal was well over 1,000 liquid-filled grenades. Fearful they'd degrade and start exploding prematurely, I intended to hold off filling mine until the morning of the event. But by Friday night, a severe weather alert was forecasting heavy rain and wind right around opening time.

Concerned, I contacted the coordinator to make sure we were still on, since I was to be stationed in the open environs of the football field. She assured me we were. I wasn't terribly excited, so I held my breath and waited until morning, at which point the storm was moving in, before calling again. Given the same answer, I dutifully prepared to inflate my balloons, only to find that the small, brittle things they'd purchased were junk. Every time I tried to inflate one, it exploded immediately, splattering me with its intended contents.

Frantic and short on time, I called Kelly, who was running errands, and asked her to pick up better balloons. She did and then rushed them home, leaving me with just enough time to fill 150, with Zach's help, in record time. With minutes to spare, I showered, dressed, and rushed to the school.

And of course, when I arrived, I was told the booth was canceled.

It’s not like I was surprised. Feeling both frustrated and relieved, I wheeled the cooler containing the liquid globes back to the truck and as best as I could, fought off Zach and his friends, who managed to grab and toss a few at trees and other unsuspecting targets.

For days afterward, it either rained or we were occupied, and the balloons sat, ignored. Then finally, on Friday, the weather was warmish, Zoë’s and Zach’s friends were home, and it dawned on me that the balloons weren’t going to last much longer. So we went for it.

If you think 125 water balloons stand any chance against half a dozen kids fighting to toss them, guess again. I’d say they held out…oh, about five minutes, max—and that’s only because I insisted the kids take turns and grab one balloon at a time. Otherwise, they’d have been gone in seconds.

Once the artillery was expended, I pulled a Tom Sawyer and held a contest to see who could pick up the most balloon fragments. They negotiated for a group prize, and I obliged—and gave them more balloons. It worked like a charm, and the driveway was spotless.

So, the kids had a blast, I found productive use for the balloons, and no mess was left behind. Cancelled booth or not, everyone was happy—including me. And the timing was perfect, since the weather has turned significantly cooler since Friday. It’s almost like payback for the stress and sore fingers I endured on Saturday. And best of all? I didn’t have to deal with a single high school-aged boy. That’s a victory in itself—and it didn’t cost a penny to play.

Note: Photos courtesy of Zach, who was a good sport and let the younger kids have fun, and his new camera.

Z's are great, but I like A's, too

Kelly and I were shocked last week when we realized that Friday had marked the end of Zach's first quarter grading period. Hadn't the school year just started? It sure seemed as if it had, even if by then eight weeks--and a fourth of the school year--had already flown by.

Now that he's in middle school, Zach is on the traditional quarter/semester grading system, having left elementary school trimesters behind. With that change have come end-of-term projects and review tests, which have at times challenged Zach’s “work on what’s due tomorrow” approach to things. Still, Kelly and I have remained cautiously optimistic that Zach can step up his game and continue in this more challenging environment the sort of success he enjoyed in grade school. We’ve even hoped he would feel more ownership toward his grades and push a bit harder, since he's already on a college-preparatory tract and we want him to form good habits now, before he enters high school.

And yet, we were fully aware that University Preparatory ("U-Prep") was a whole new ball game and far more challenging than anything Zach had experienced academically before. The school has proven to be everything we'd hoped for and more. But on every level--subject matter, homework load, testing, and even band--it's threatened at times to bury Zach. Though he’s being taught management in his advisory period each day, his skills in the area aren't yet what they need to be.

Having online access with up-to-the-minute updates to Zach's assignments and grades via a service called "Aeries" has been both a blessing and a burden for Kelly and me. On the plus side, it's been a tremendous benefit in helping Zach stay on track, with only a few "oops"es along the way. But there have also been a few mistakes, scores not added properly, and assignments overlooked. Those have made for a bit of nail biting.

By Monday, Zach was as anxious to see his report card as we were. Granted, because of Aeries, we assumed we knew the results. But with assignments and tests yet to be posted and a few items still in dispute, we didn't want to assume until we saw the results.

Our patience was rewarded when Zach’s grades were posted today. Bad puns aside, they were simply A-mazing:

English/Reading: A+ ("Work is outstanding")
Ancient History: A+ ("Work is outstanding")
Prep Band: A
Earth Science: A+
Math: A+
PE/Health: A
Advisory/Tutorial: Pass

As far as I'm concerned, this is "Mission Accomplished" in terms of Zach's transition to middle school. I've stressed to him that the only thing harder than maintaining high grades quarter to quarter and semester to semester is getting them back up if they drop. And, he has a long way to go in terms of staying on top of his work and balance short- mid- and long-term assignments. But if he pulled straight A's in a system like U-Prep's, it ought to be just a matter of refinement from here on out, rather than trying to invent the wheel. He's got the basics down.

Perhaps most rewarding about Zach's grades is that he earned A+ marks in all of the academic classes. Still, I’m not overlooking the A in band, even if it doesn't surprise me, since Zach's enthusiasm for playing saxophone has really taken off now that he plays for an hour each day in a band setting. And for my kid to have earned an A in PE is just icing on the cake, especially since he had weekly fitness goals that had to be met.

I realize it's a very long journey we're on, with college as both a destination and a journey in itself. But with this report card as Zach's first dispatch from along the way, I can only dream of what lies ahead, convinced that he'll navigate it all with flying colors. And I'm just glad I'm along for the ride.

Elvis has left the building (And so has Zach)!

Zach headed out the door a few minutes ago.

He was headed to a dance.

His first middle school dance.

With a date.

An, um, OLDER date—a seventh grader

Who asked him out.

I'm not sure why I feel uneasy, But I do, just a bit.

Sigh.

Guess he ain't our baby boy any longer...

UPDATE: Sadly, the girl who asked Zach out was not allowed into the dance until after the sixth graders had left. When I picked him up, Zach didn't seem too concerned. Disappointed, but not concerned. He was more interested in telling me about the girl with whom he did dance—with whom he SLOW DANCED. Ahem

I did my best not to react, other than telling him I was impressed that at 11, he'd had the courage to ask a girl to dance, period. But when the conversation turned to his reactions ("Dad, it felt really weird having my hands on her hips, you know?"), I nearly drove off the road.

Sigh. It's going to be a long adolescence. And then, of course, come the girls. Double ahem.

NOTE: In case you're wondering, it was a "Neon Dance"—hence the bright green shirt and brighter orange hair. They would have contrasted quite nicely, had I taken the photo once we'd arrived home after the dance, next to my still-in-shock, ghost-white face.

The results are in, and Zach is a STAR

Expecting to find nothing but the standard issue of junk mail and bills awaiting me, I just opened up our mailbox and discovered buried among the paper destined for the trash or paper shredder Zach's Star Student Report (also known as the results of last year's California Standardized Testing And Reporting). I'll be honest and say that I opened it with some hesitation.

Zach's earned amazing grades the last couple of years, with straight As or close to them every report card. But he's typically not done as well on standardized tests. (Gee, he must get that from me. I hate standardized tests, whereas Kelly kicks butt on such things.) While that hasn't directly affected his grades, it has hurt him in other areas, such as nearly missing the chance to join his school's Odyssey of the Mind team. So, I was a bit nervous about what I'd see when I unfolded the report.

Did you hear my deep sigh? I'd be surprised if you didn't. And rest assured, it was most definitely a sigh of relief. Because this year, Zach proved that he can do well on those pesky standardized tests--and just in time for his move to his new school, University Preparatory, too!

Scores in each testing area (English/Language Arts, Mathematics, and Science) are broken down by range, from "Far Below Basic" to "Advanced." All students are expected to be in the "Proficient" or "Advanced" range, though many are not. Zach was "Advanced" in all areas, but check out these scores!

With 600 being the highest score possible in each area, Zach scored:

English/Language: 456 (Advanced was anything above 395; mean for his school and grade was 370)

Mathematics: 555 (Advanced was anything above 430; mean for his school and grade was 381)

Science: 481 (Advanced was anything above 410; mean for his school and grade was 362)

Most exciting of all of those was his math score, since that's traditionally been his weakest subject. It didn't help that his fourth- and fifth-grade teachers taught it basically when they got around to it, which is why I spoke with his new school's counseling department just yesterday, concerned whether he'd tested at minimum proficiency in math for incoming sixth graders!

Pardon me if I'm boasting, but yeah, I'm just a wee bit proud of my kid right now. As a parent, you do all you can to help your kid do his or her best. And on days like this, you know it's all worth it--and I don't know if there's any more satisfying feeling in the world.