Quarterly Review

Middle school is generally considered a "time of growth" by many. Most are awkward 12 and 13 year olds with far too many hormonal changes infused with an intense desire to belong. Throw in the daily mocking and cat fights and it is a recipe for disaster.

Valiant efforts have been made to retain as few memories as possible of these awkward days in my life, but yesterday the dam of repressed memories sprung a leak when report cards came home.

Whie we haven't yet entered the awkward middle school years, this year has proven challenging for Hollywood. When no homework came home for the first month of school, I thought it odd. On curriculum night I learned it wasn't because of his superior ability to focus and plow through tasks, but rather he "forgot" he had daily assignments. His efforts were rebuffed with daily communication with the teacher for a while, weekly progress reports, and followed up with weekly visits in the classroom by mom. There were also a plethora of chores added to the list when homework assignments were not completed. Being the intelligent kid he is, he quickly learned school and homework were far less painful, and we saw dramatic improvement in his studies.

Curly is in love with school this year. She skips through the gate when I drop her off, and usually has a great story from the day on the walk home. Yesterday, she couldn't wait to get home with her report card. We were thrilled to see she is above benchmark in most areas; and it came as no surprise she is excelling in art.

After heaps of praise were pronounced upon Curly for the fabulous job she is doing, we asked Hollywood where his report card was. When he responded defensively he had not received it, the flashback began.

In an endless dual of sibling rivalry, my brother never ran home faster than on report card day. During those awkward junior high years, I will concede his academic achievement was far greater than mine. He would dash home to receive his heaps of praise and I would hide mine under the mattress and tell my wise mother my teacher forgot to hand them out.

While my pants burned in fire, an e-mail from Hollywood's teacher confirmed she had in fact forgot to pass out report cards and promised to send them home today.

Yesterday, the memories not just of middle school came flooding back, but also the curse of every mother..." I hope you have one just like you so you can someday understand what it is like to be me." I definitely got mine. He's just way better!