Too School For Cool

Every Friday I have lunch and then chaperone recess with my first born son and his fifth grade class.

It is a highlight of my week.

Every week.

Bearing witness to the growing and learning and learning and growing of these kids is so cool. The pre-pubescent mini-culture they have co-created is wildly chaotic yet still more democracy than "Lord of the Flies."

I have known most of the children, in each of the three fifth grade classrooms, since they began kindergarten together. Several of them I knew in preschool and a small handful have been together since pre-pre-school. Many of them remember when my oldest son was an only child and when his baby brother was born.
 
I'd say we know each other pretty well.

I know who throws away their vegetables and who eats them. I know who trades Doritos for Oreos. I know who picks the pepperoni off their pizza and who is most likely to send a packet of ketchup flying across the room. I know who eats like a beast and see who is taught table manners at home. Personal hygiene too. I know not to judge.

I know who chronically has recess detention for missing assignments. I know who's head of the class and the class clown too.

I know who likes to swing and who hangs out on the monkey bars.  I know who sidewalk chalks and who jump ropes and who is outgrowing all of the above. I know who has the most Silly Bandz and who's Team Edward and who's Team Jacob. I know who loves Justin Bieber and who is totally over Miss Hannah Montana. They all love Miley.

I know the boys to keep a hairy eyeball on so touch football doesn't get carried away. I know who is most likely to end up having to sit on the fence and who will tell on them first. I know who has cooties and who can sink a basketball.

I know who watches Kendra and listens to Snoop and who watched Dancing With the Stars. I know who has a cell phone and who texts my kid after his eight o'clock curfew.  I know that hasn't happened in a while. I know all the fifth grade bullies and beauties and who the girls think are turning into cuties. I know the puppy love romances and the mean girl dramas. I know the past and current wars and alliances. I know better than to comment on any of it.

I know it's not always rainbows and butterflies for some of these kids. Sometimes it's the hard times that move them along. I know it when I see it because I was it too.

I know who misses a father whose never been a daddy. I know who misses a man who was both and he went to heaven. I know whose dad, in front of her best friend, said she was his biggest mistake.

I know how blessed I am my official job description includes this Friday afternoon ritual. I know I am privileged. I know how much I truly dig these kids and though I don't know, I hope I make a small difference. I know a hug or a high five can't heal it all but I know how wishing for one feels. I know I am just a small part of the village I believe it takes to raise them. I know enough to ask myself, "What if it does make a difference?"

I know time flies when you're having fun and these kiddos go to the middle school wing next year. I know the day will come when my boy says, "Mom, you're not coming for lunch today are you?"

I know it will be too soon.