"And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make." -*

Today was my last day of school for a long time. More bitter sweet goodbyes were uttered and hugs given than ever before. I really don't know why. I've come to expect nothing from fourteen year olds, in the way of emotional gratification. I mean, they're fourteen.

I won't share everything, but my favourite sentimental comment yesterday was,

"I think I'm actually going to miss you. I never thought that about a teacher before. Man, that's messsed up. I'm actually going to miss a teacher. Isn't that messed up?"

Sweet kid. I really am going to miss him a lot. I don't know why. He drove me insane. I totally want to cry right now.


Little Z recreated my teacher desk at home:

Notice her attention to detail: The star stickers, the bell, the tote bag (all teachers carry tote bags- it's the law, like gravity), and that crate next to the desk is full of notebooks, each with the name of one of her stuffed animals on it. And she keeps writing me "bafrom" passes when I leave the room.


Little Z's report card for kindergarten was a mixed bag. Everything subjective, and everything related to behaviour was generally not very good. She got the lowest grade possible for paying attention. One would think, with such poor attention, that she would not learn anything, but she got all four out of fours for every reading skill and every math skill. So. She learned everything perfectly. And, she can't pay attention at all? Huh?

It baffles me. I ended up telling her,

"Good job! You learned everything you were supposed to learn in kindergarten!"

I was in the car the other day with Little Z and she said, "If you have two quarters and fifty pennies, does that make a dollar?"

Today, at the eighth grade picnic, she told someone that she thought chickens couldn't fly because she examined the Gentle Giant's skeleton, and discovered that he did not have hollow bones, but birds that fly have hollow bones, so that must be why chickens can't fly: they don't have hollow bones.

Honestly, is that true? And was I that smart when I was five?

Anyway, whatever her teacher thinks about her attention span: I'm not worried one bit.

Okey dokey.

* Abbey Road. Best album of all time.


  1. You were smart, but not that smart. I think a lot of it is nurture. You are doing a lot of things right raising that girl.

  2. She sounds amazingly smart, which may account for her not paying attention so congratulations to you for raising a smart kid. Obviously you are smart as well for recognizing the best Beatles album ever.

  3. And obviously you are smart for writing books and reading my lame blog!