Posted by Kimberly on October 4th, 2006 — Posted in The Ladies, Kipple, No Pudding Until You Finish Your Meat
Stories like these ones are why I don’t watch the news or read the papers. I don’t want to live in a world like this, and I certainly don’t want my daughters to know that they live in a world like this. I won’t be taking the advice of any of the talking heads currently guiding shocked parents through the process of how to explain Pennsylvania, Colorado, and Quebec to their children. I won’t be taking it because Diva Girl has no idea those events occurred, and I intend to keep it that way.
Maybe that’s selfish of me. Maybe I’m avoiding a moral responsibility here. Maybe it’s unfair of me to shield my daughter from this world of hers. Maybe I should be preparing her for this world we apparently live in–a world where women and girls are lined up and shot, execution style, in front of their classroom blackboards.
But how do I explain to her that there are men in this world who hate her simply because of what she is: a bright, beautiful, bubbly little girl who will grow up to be a breathtaking, brilliant, vibrant woman. How do I explain to her that while it’s true that all people are equally valuable in this world, there are men who will resent her for her value (and the value of every other woman) and who will use any means necessary to take it away from her and every other woman in the world?
We’re up in arms over female circumcision practices in Africa. Afgan women sporting burquas cause a political outcry. The idea of “throwaway daughters” in asian countries leaves us incensed. And yet, we’ve somehow accepted that we live in a world where this happens.
We live in a culture of violence. First person shooter games. Casually violent song lyrics. A government bent on war at any cost. An entertainment industry that glorifies murder and mayhem.
We have a news media that has taken the axiom “if it bleeds, it leads” to a whole new level of lurid. The coverage of these tragedies becomes so all encompassing that it loses all meaning. We become numb to the images and the horrific becomes the mundane.
School shootings, once a terrifying aberration, have become almost commonplace. It’s only a matter of time until “columbine” joins “going postal“ in our vernacular.
Dateline becomes “All Predators, All the Time” and what was once a shocking expose on internet predators becomes a weekly exercise in the ridiculously pathetic.
School shootings, accidental shootings, snipers, all routine occurrences on the evening news. And every attempt to stem this tide of violence by curbing access to the guns that allow it to be perpetrated with such distanced ease are met with the rallying cry, “guns don’t kill people. People kill people.” As if that makes it ok. As if that makes it better.
More so even than gun violence, the thing that terrifies me about these instances is the focus on female victims. Maybe this lack of randomness in the choice of victims shouldn’t make these crimes all the more chilling to me, but as a woman, and the mother of daughters, it does. Somehow, it’s easier to accept that some madman simply opened fire than that he methodically and deliberately chose out his victims, separating the boys who would live from the girls who had to die. And I wonder, what does that do to those young male survivors? What message is imprinted on their young pysches?
The rage at women, the power structure that fosters that hatred, the society that allows it to fester, I think these are the issues we need to be looking at. We need to take our heads out the sand and really look at the gender politics of our society.
It’s all well and good to be raising strong, confident, independent women, but are we doing so at the expense of our men? How do we balance the needs of both sexes? How do we create a world where my daughters’ sense of their worth and confidence in their choices does not leave someone else’s son feeling disenfranchised? The “hapless hubby” jokes and the “dumb blonde” jokes. The absence of positive, nurturing male role models in our popular culture today. The lingering image of the shrill, manhating feminist. All of these things contribute to the seething societal stew that allows this type of aggression to breed and grow and eventually to explode.
Today I no longer feel confident that my daughters will have the place in this world that they deserve. I don’t feel confident that anyone’s daughters will. But I still have a fierce belief that they do deserve that place. Every person does, regardless of gender. But until we figure out how to support one without failing the other, we are continuing to create the type of society in which exacting wholesale vengeance on young women, while still unthinkable, is, sadly, not undoable.
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Posted by Kimberly on October 3rd, 2006 — Posted in Diva Girl, No Pudding Until You Finish Your Meat, iVillage, Heathers
One of the perks of being in Grade Three is that you get to join teams. Real teams that go to actual events and compete.
Diva Girl went to the cross-country regionals today. It’s her first experience with being on a team and with athletic competition. I’ve spent a lot of time this past week assuring her that placing wasn’t the important thing, that the key was to enjoy the experience.
I’m glad to hear she was listening:
“At first we were running really hard, you know, competing against each other.But then we decided to stop and talk for a while to see if we wanted to be friends.”
She came in 77th. Her new friend was right behind her at 78. They were wearing daisies in their hair.
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Posted by Kimberly on October 2nd, 2006 — Posted in Diva Girl, No Pudding Until You Finish Your Meat, iVillage, Heathers
I’ve written before about the insidious nature of bullying, Heathers style. Bullying is bad enough when you’re dealing with an obvious aggressor, and this type of bullying is anything but obvious. The Heathers are masters of plausible deniability. They rely not on direct confrontation and physical intimidation, but on six degrees of separation and emotional manipulation.
While I’m sure that the Heathers have their own emotional damage and insecurities that lead them into this behaviour, these girls are not the angry, disenfranchised children on the playground. They are not acting out because they are lonely and unliked and retaliating against a social structure that excludes them. These are the popular, well liked girls–the ones who decide who gets invited, who gets to play, who matters. Unlike Butch, whose power stems from a reputation built on fear, Heathers build fear through a reputation based on power.
Obviously, the key to ending the cycle is to take that power away. But the subtle nature of the of the offenses, the difficulty in pinpointing the vicitmization–even in the face of a clear victim–and the generally positive perceptions of the bully, it can be an almost impossible situation to sort out. With teachers stretched so thin by weapons in the classrooms, violence in the schoolyard, and sex in the bathroom, it’s hardly any wonder that seeming non-emergent issues like “Heather won’t play with me” fall through the cracks. And on the parental end of things, well, who likes to hear that their child is not the little angel she’s perceived to be?
I’ll admit, I’ve been loathe to contact our Heather’s mother to hash this out. For one thing, I don’t really know her; she’s not one of the Playground Mommies. She doesn’t do drop off and pick up, so I don’t have the same casual, chat a bit in the grocery store familiarity with her that I have with other mothers in Diva Girl’s class. I do, however, know many of the other mothers, a fact that allowed me to stumble on the secret to untying this web of pwer and manipulation:
I talked to them.
In the course of just regular playground conversation, the saga of the Heather came out to a couple of sympathetic mothers. Mothers who then had conversations with their daughters about power and control and the politics of popularity. Mothers who made it clear that excluding Sabrina–or anyone else–just because Heather said so, was not ok. Mothers whose daughters left for lunch as part of Heather’s gang, and returned to school as individuals. Individuals who refused to be mean just because one girl said so.
In pulling these individual strings, I think I may have untied the stranglehold Heather had on the third grade. Since those conversations, Sabrina has had playmates. Playdates. Even a birthday party invitation. And now that the dynamic has changed from “If you want to play, you can’t play with Sabrina” to “If you want to play, you can’t exclude Sabrina,” my Diva Girl sparkles again.
Not that Heather took the loss of her power easily or graciously. There were a couple of days where she did, in fact, choose to be the odd girl out rather than suffer the indignity of playing with the Crybaby. But the other girls, with their mothers’ words fresh in their ears, simply left her to stew and joined in a game of King’s Court with Sabrina. By Friday, Heather had had enough of her own self-inflicted medicine: She apologized to Diva Girl and asked if she could play too.
Sabrina said yes. Because she understands that everyone should be allowed to join in.
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Posted by Kimberly on September 28th, 2006 — Posted in Diva Girl, Kipple, No Pudding Until You Finish Your Meat, iVillage, My Addiction
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It’s here! It’s here! It’s here!!!!!
I’m positively giddy today. Today, in addition to the half eaten lunch and still ever so exciting agenda, the package I’ve been waiting for since the start of school was stuffed into Sabrina’s backpack.
No, it wasn’t her school photo, although that arrived too. This was better.
Today I got my first Scholastic order of the year.
I’m a huge fan of Scholastic. I don’t have many vices, but those colourful catalogues are my drug of choice. I anxiously await their arrival, eager to rifle through the pages and be enticed by all the wonderful books offered at super cheap prices. Before I discovered the online bookclubs, it was a tossup whether Diva Girl would be greeted at the end of the day with “Hi! How was your day?” or “Did you get the bookclub flyers?” Now, I have my choices all picked out long before the order form comes home. It’s not the same though. While I enjoy not having to wait for my fix, I do miss circling my choices. There’s something about the Scholastic experience that demands sitting down with a pen and marking up the pages, circling every single book you’d like to purchase.
Looking at the overflowing bookshelves scattered throughout our apartment, most of them stocked courtesy of those pages, I have to admit that I tend to buy what I’ve circled more often than not. My major commitment this year is to buy more non-fiction. Last year I always felt a little guilty when I did have to whittle the order, because the resource books were always the first to be taken off the list. So many great books about the universe, ancient civilizations, math….all sacrificed in name of Arthur, Olivia, and Junie B. Jones.
I’m trying to be better this year, though; to indulge my passion for excellent children’s literature and show some self restraint at the same time. Now, the rule is that Sabrina, Regan, and I each get one pick–within reason. I usually choose a board book for Regan, and Brina’s choice is subject to negotiation and parental approval. In addition to those books, I order one non-fiction book.
It’s a system that’s working out so far. Today I pulled outHow Do Dinsaurs Play With Their Friends, How To Tame A Bully, Terry Fox: A Story of Hope, and The Book of Planets.
I may have to invest in a new planet one, though. Afterall, with Pluto’s demotion, all the reference books are out of date.
And if I’m getting that, I really should finally get A Poppy is to Remember.
And the new Olivia book.
And something for Hallowe’en.
And…..Well, I’m trying.
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Posted by Kimberly on September 13th, 2006 — Posted in Diva Girl, Kipple, No Pudding Until You Finish Your Meat, iVillage, Heathers
The problem with girl bullying is that the aggression is rarely on display. It’s easy to spot the classic bully; while he may be subtle enough not to conduct a playground shakedown in front of the teacher, his actions are rarely left as a matter of perception. He’s generally very up front about his motivation and tends to take a hands on approach with his victims. Not so with the Heathers. Unlike Butch, a Heather is rarely up front, and she never gets her hands dirty. Her brand of mean is best accomplished at a distance and under the radar. It depends not on direct confrontation, but on a far more subtle campaign of terror that is based almost completely on perceptions. Whispered insults and secret clubs, not fists, are her weapons of choice, and the damage, while just as real as a black eye, is often far less visible.
When it is, though, it’s heartbreaking. I think I would have rather come out from my talk with Mr. G to see a battered and bloody Diva Girl than the beaten, dejected child who was sitting in line, oblivious to the he happy chaos of the playground swirling around her. She’s the crybaby, but I was the one near tears as I watched her sit with her head down and her shoulders slumped, desperately trying to keep the hurt in and not care that Heather was making it a point to stand right beside her, deep in conversation with 3 other little girls in their class.
Sabrina wasn’t the only one feeling defeated on the playground. My meeting with their teacher left me feeling angry and frustrated. To say Mr. G was less than understanding about the problem would be an understatement. Mr. G “doesn’t see a problem.” He doesn’t see a problem because “Heather and Sabrina really don’t interact as far as he can tell.” And, to top it all off, he “can’t do anything unless Sabrina brings the problem to me herself.”
Yeah. Clearly Mr. G was never a little girl. And possibly, given that last statement, never even a kid. Of course you don’t see it! That’s sort of the point of bullying–it doesn’t make it hurt any less just because the scars are on the inside. And of course they don’t have anything to do with each other; that’s the way this scenario works. The entire point is to have nothing to do with Sabrina–to make her as much of an outsider as possible. Which brings us to point number 3. She’s already been labeled the crybaby. Now he wants her to be the tattletale too? And what exactly is she supposed to tattle about? “Jenny won’t play with me?” I know what my response to that would be.
I walked out of the school frustrated by the teacher’s utter lack of empathy and understanding of the issue, but bouyed by the fact that there was at least one glimmer of hope in this whole mess: Sabrina’s budding friendship with Madyson. When I went in, Sabrina and Madyson were together, catching up on their weekends; when I came back out, Bree was on her own and Heather had Madyson. I don’t know what happened in the five useless minutes I spent inside discussing the situation with the teacher, but I can guess. Social pressure is a hard thing to stand up to, even when you’re an adult. As a child, it can be near impossible. And it’s just human nature that when the Alpha in a group invites you in, you accept. I don’t blame Madyson for crumbling under the pressure; I blame Heather for applying it.
I’ve been trying to to teach Diva Girl about taking the high road through this, but when my daughter ran to me and buried her face in my back, clinging to me like a 4 year old on the first day of school, I cracked. As the bell rang, I bent down and whispered, “She’s a vicious little snot.” It wasn’t much, and it certainly wasn’t mature of me, but the grin that spread across Sabrina’s tear stained face told me that for that moment at least, it was enough. That’s all that really matters to me right now.
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Posted by Kimberly on September 9th, 2006 — Posted in Diva Girl, No Pudding Until You Finish Your Meat, iVillage, Heathers
I’m in love. After yesterday’s date, I’m absolutely smitten. I think she had me at “hello.” All bubbly and excited to be hanging out. And when she took Sabrina’s hand and started skipping down the street, well, I was gone. I’ve never had a mom crush before, but I’ve got it bad for Madyson
She’s everything I ever hoped for in a friend for Diva Girl. She’s polite, patient, kind, and has a mind of her own. She pleased and thank you’d her way through the three hours she was at our house. Not in an Eddie Haskell kind of way, but in the genuinely well mannered way that I hope my daughter behaves when she’s the guest. She included the baby in their games and didn’t seem to be begrudging her presence as she did so And she and Sabrina managed to cycle through most of the toys in the playroom–with the odd Arthur break thrown in just to mix things up–without a hint of argument. She was willing to compromise and play what Sabrina wanted at times, but was also able to stand up for herself and insist that they play her games too.
My heart melted as I stood outside the playroom door and listened to them declare their best friendness over a game of Mousetrap. And then it shattered as I overheard Madyson tell Sabrina about what Heather had been up to today.
It seems that Sabrina’sarch-nemesis, we’ll call her Heather ( I have before, because it fits), continues to live up to her namesake. It’s not enough that she’s not friends with Sabrina (not something I want to happen anyway); apparently, no one else is supposed to be friends with her either. At least, that’s the impression Madyson got when she and her minions cornered her on the playground and had the following conversation:
Heather: You don’t actually like Sabrina, do you?
Madyson: Yes. Sabrina’s my friend.
H: Well we hate her. She’s a crybaby.
M: I like her. I think she’s nice. And funny.
H: Well you don’t have to play with her. You can run away from her you know.
M: I want to play with her.
That was it, except for the fact that they spent the rest of recess watching the two girls at play, making their displeasure known.
This is classic girl bullying at its finest. The whispering campaign, the exclusion, the drive towards complete isolation, and the utter unwillingness to confront the victim head on (remember, it was only a couple of days ago that Heather told Sabrina she wanted to be her friend.) are all hallmarks of female bullying.
Now, much though I’m not ok with them calling my daughter names, I’ve gotta give then the crybaby one. She is a crier. It’s something we’ve been working on, and she’s doing a lot better with it, but it’s a reputation that she’s earned. And one they want her to keep–apparently winding Diva Girl up by teasing her about her small size (she’s a head and shoulders smaller than the other kids) is somewhat of a sport at school. I’ve explained to Sabrina that they’re actively trying to make her cry, and she’s been doing a great job of just brushing it off this year. But that doesn’t make it ok for them to try. And it certainly doesn’t mean that this little girl gets to decide that my daughter can’t have friends.
I’m not a reactionary parent, but I’ll be speaking to Teacher McDreamy on Monday. This has been going on since kindergarten, and it’s time for it to end. We did the “”just be nice to her and she’ll come around.” We moved on through “just ignore her.” and have dabbled in “stand up to her and she’ll back down.” Through it all, Heather has continued on her campaign of emotional torture. In Kindergarten, it was teasing that Sabrina wouldn’t be going Grade 1 beacuse she was too little–a claim that had my gullible girl in tears more than once. Grade One was the year that Heather decided no one should attend Sabrina’s birthday party–and only 2 of the 6 invitees actually showed up. Grade Two was quite simply hellacious. A daughter who was heartbroken, picked on, and desperate for social interaction.
I don’t believe this situation is going to get better. I don’t believe this little girl is going to change. I don’t believe, even if Sabrina has finally found friends of her own and the strength to put Heather in her place, that this little girl should get away with what she’s done. And I don’t intend to let her.
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Posted by Kimberly on September 6th, 2006 — Posted in Diva Girl, No Pudding Until You Finish Your Meat, iVillage, Heathers
Watching the playground dynamics this morning was an exercise in maternal heartbreak. I stood there, powerless, watching Sabrina once again on the outside of the crowd. I suppose it could have been worse; focussed as she was on rooting through her backpack she didn’t seem to notice that literally every other girl in her class was engaged in a rowdy game of Kings Court just a few feet away. But I did. And as she ran off to play alone on the climbers I wondered again, why doesn’t she get it? Why doesn’t she seem able to see or negotiate the playground politics.
If Bree were a shy kid, a quiet kid, a kid who did not thrive on social activitiy, I’d understand. I’d even encourage her loneresque ways. Lord knows that I’m no social butterfly. But the problem is, that Sabrina is. She loves people and generally hates to be alone. She’s never happier than when she has someone to talk to and play with. Which is why I don’t understand why she has such a problem figuring out the social dynamics of the schoolyard.
Much though I’d like it to be, it can’t all be Heather’s fault. I certainly think Miss Queen Bee has contributed to the problem, but I’m willing to acknowledge that she’s not really the root of it all. Sabrina doesn’t seem to “get” social codes. Today is a prime example: Every other girl in her class was playing a game together, and yet instead of joining in and making a place for herself in the group, she chose to stay away. She chose to cast herself as an outsider, even though I know that is the role she hates most. And I realize that it was possibly because the thought of being rejected was just too much to bear (an idea that breaks my heart), but I don’t think that was it. I think it honestly didn’t occur to her that to make connections with these girls, she should play king’s court, even though she would rather be on the climber. Clearly that’s something we’re going to have to work on more.
There was one victory in the day, though. After yesterday’s “Maybe I’ll be your friend” bombshell, Sabrina and I had yet another talk about what friendship is really all about. Today, my Diva Girl told the Queen Bee that she could be her friend or she could not be her friend, but maybe wasn’t an option. I’m really, really proud of her; last year, she would have simply fallen in line with Heather’s attitude and done anything she could think of to win her over. Even more surprising, Heather has apparently decided to be her friend, and spent all three recesses playing with her today. I’ll admit, I don’t like Heather, but I’m glad for my daughter’s sake. But I’m still gonna wait and see what tomorrow brings before I start jumping on any bandwagons.
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Posted by Kimberly on September 5th, 2006 — Posted in Diva Girl, Kipple, No Pudding Until You Finish Your Meat, iVillage
I’m not sure who was more exicted this morning on the walk to school–The newly minted third grader or her mommy. Sabrina skipped along the side of the road, happy to be returning to school and speculating about the day ahead–who would her teacher be, which kids would be in her class, how many As would she get? We also reviewed some friendship ground rules: Friends are people who like you and want to spend time with you. You cannot force this on people. If someone doesn’t want to play with you, instead of getting upset or chasing her, you should just find someone else to hang out with.
While Sabrina might not have good friends on the playground, I do. And after a long summer spent mostly away from home, I realized that I could hardly wait to reconnect with them. It was a bittersweet, though; as I rounded the parking lot it hit me: many mothers would be waiting inside the gates, but Susan would not. Remembering that, and how much I always looked forward to her smiling face and down to earth take on life–an island of serene calm in the schoolyard chaos–made me miss her all over again. Sabrina also missed Emmett, who for better and worse has been her constant playground companion since kindergarten, but in the end the excitment of old friends and a new classroom proved to be successful distractions for both of us.
She got “The New Guy, ” which means that for the first time ever, Diva Girl will have a male teacher. I’m kinda excited about that. (Get your minds out of the gutter! Not that way! Besides, he’s probably married.) Not that I think that, with her 4 uncles and very active and involved grandfather, Sabrina is lacking in positive male role models, but I think this could be a very positive thing for my emotional, complicated little girl. Judging by the way she bounded out of class at the end of the day, and how often I was treated to insights about life according to Mr. G, I think Sabrina’s feeling pretty good about it too.
More than the “gotcha” system or the presence of Rainbow Magic books in the classroom library, the big news of the day was they got agendas! This is a VERY! BIG! DEAL! apparently. We’ll see how excited she is about it when I’m signing her homework.
Finally, Heather, the Queen Bee who spent last year making it her personal mission to torment Sabrina, is in her class. I wasn’t pleased about that, but I decided to use it as a teachable moment. Instead of allowing her dismiss this girl outright, I went against every maternal instinct I had and encouraged Sabrina to give her chance to prove herself. Partly I was hoping that Heather had matured over the summer (and that without her chief minion, who moved at the end of last year, she’d be far more willing to play nicely). Partly I just didn’t want to teach my 7 year old to be so cynical that she would reject a genuine offer of friendship. Imagine how thrilled I was when, nearly as exciting as the agenda, was the news that Heather said she might be Sabrina’s friend. If she’s not too busy with every other girl in the class.
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Posted by Kimberly on September 4th, 2006 — Posted in Diva Girl, Kipple, No Pudding Until You Finish Your Meat, iVillage
Diva Girl is flitting between her toast, the television, and her new outfit, unable to settle down to one particular thing. I keep shooing her peanutbutter sticky fingers away from her clothes, but I don’t think that’s the source of the butterflies in my stomach.
I want this year to be good to my baby. I want to send her off on a wonderful adventure every morning, confident that her wild, difficult spirit is being nurtured and fulfilled. I’m not too concerned about the academic stuff; she’s a smart kid, and she’ll figure it out. The social scene, however, terrifies me. Sabrina doesn’t really have a stellar track record in that area and, more than anything, I just don’t want her to have another year like last year. A year spent chasing the “popular” girls, kowtowing to them in the hopes that they will take pity on her and let her play.
It’s not like she doesn’t make friends. The past two years, she’s formed very close friendships with little girls in her class. Little girls who inevitably move away sometime in October. This year, all I really want is for that girl, whoever she is, to stick around and be my daughter’s friend. More than a straight A report card or some sort of sporting accomplishment, what I want for this year is for Sabrina to find a best friend.
Well, time to go see what the day brings.
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Posted by Kimberly on September 4th, 2006 — Posted in Diva Girl, Kipple, No Pudding Until You Finish Your Meat, iVillage
There are few days that hold as much anticipation and sheer possibility as the first day of a new school year. Christmas maybe, or the beginning of a long awaited vacation; but niether of these have the fresh start aspect of that magical day in September. I’ve mentioned before that for me, tomorrow marks the start of my new year.
I don’t make resolutions in January. I don’t change my life. I don’t vow to start fresh. Even though my birthday is little more than a week after New Year’s, I just don’t feel like the middle of winter is a time of fresh starts. By the time the new year rolls around, I’m already well entrenched in the daily grind, and just don’t feel inspired to make changes.
At this time of year, on the other hand, I’m filled to brimming with potential and possibility. I have plans aplenty. I vow to become organizied. To get a handle on the stuff–both physical and ephemeral–that clutters my life. I make resolutions–This year I’ll get up earlier instead of getting the panicked rush out the door down to a science. I’ll be the mom who returns the field trip form the day after it comes home, and never have to scrounge in my pockets on the playground because I forgot it was bake sale day.
It won’t last, of course. Sure, for the first few weeks I’ll make lunches the night before, careful to tuck a treat or note into the box. We’ll lay out clothes, too, all the better to establish a new and organized routine. I’ll set the alarm for 7, and we’ll be up in time for a leisurely breakfast and some cartoons before we head out the door. I’ll check the backpack every night and create some sort of “system” for the paper. There will be lists and schedules. But gradually, the “system” will become “lose things in a swirling vortex of paper covering my desk.” I’ll start hitting the snooze button, and eventually stop setting the alarm altogether, setting the stage for the mad dash to school–an event in which I am an olympic contender. The clutter will creep back in, and possibility will be ground down in the face of reality.
Still, every September I’m filled with an overwhelming optimism, a feeling that all things are possible. And really, looking at all those pristine notebooks and shiny markers, how could anyone feel otherwise.
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