As we all know, Ethan is stampeding through third grade as we speak. It seemed like only last month that he was ink-blotting letters in Mrs. Susan's preschool class with those bingo ink blotters. Thus far, I have not had the greatest organizing system for school papers. It has consisted of a brown grocery bag with the grade written in sharpie on the outside. There I sat, in the middle of my craft room last week, with all of Ethan's preschool work swimming around me, and I began to see my son's school life begin to tell a story.
He began preschool the year after we lost our grandma. It was a rough time for all of us as she became sick quite quickly and she succumbed to cancer even faster. Ethan was very close to Grandma B and the few months before she die was when he stopped drawing pictures of people. Even the stick figure people with the huge jelly fish type heads that very young children draw. We were worried about him starting preschool. As I sifted through his preschool papers, I could easily find the early work. And then I found it. Johnny Appleseed. This was the first person he drew after Grandma died. Sure, it was a cut out figure and he only had to draw the face so to many parents it wasn't a big deal, but to me... to me, that huge smiling Johnny Appleseed face meant that my son starting seeing people again. When he brought home the person he drew, the face he drew, I remember crying and crying, and feeling so grateful.
His kindergarten work had his daddy's writing all over it and I
smiled. This was the year we were blessed to be able to have Jonathan stay home for a year and be a stay-at-home dad. Ethan and his daddy were able to go on field trips together and Jonathan was able to be a room mom. Ethan's imagination grew that year, as he was the only one to guess that the gingerbread boy ran away all the way to the desert because that way his gingerbread wouldn't get to moist and crumbly there. He was also one of five Ethans in his class and began to be known as Ethan L., and created the Boy Club. To this day, I am not quite sure what took place there.
smiled. This was the year we were blessed to be able to have Jonathan stay home for a year and be a stay-at-home dad. Ethan and his daddy were able to go on field trips together and Jonathan was able to be a room mom. Ethan's imagination grew that year, as he was the only one to guess that the gingerbread boy ran away all the way to the desert because that way his gingerbread wouldn't get to moist and crumbly there. He was also one of five Ethans in his class and began to be known as Ethan L., and created the Boy Club. To this day, I am not quite sure what took place there.
His first grade work made me sad. While he excelled in kindergarten, he fell apart in first grade. This is the year Jonathan was in and out of the hospital and Ethan's work reflects this. It is almost impossible to understand what he wrote in his one-sentence stories, and almost none of his drawings will show his daddy. Just me and Ethan. But the drawings make me smile. Ethan and I truly became best buddies his first grade year. Even though he fell almost desperately behind in school that year, Ethan was my constant companion and gave me hope when I was so worried. This is also the year that Ethan began to think he was black, but this is another story...
We got him slowly caught up in second grade. Of course, he also began showing his naughty streak, which would explain why I don't have nearly as many school papers from this grade. Ethan showed his fondness for talking in this grade, and not as much dedication for completing assignments instead. He also got caught saying his first swear word when he said "Damn". When I asked why he said it, he just said it was because "It fell out." He hasn't sworn since -- that I know of. I think this is also the year I began to notice how dramatic Ethan is in his storytelling.
And here we are. Third grade. He has made it just like people have told me he would when I was anxious over spelling and reading, math and swearing. He reads when he is supposed to sleep. His handwriting is still awful, but we can read it at least. Ethan tries hard in school, which is all I have ever wanted. He draws people with some regularity, along with many other sorts of things. He doesn't do much with macaroni anymore, unless I make him use it to help him with math. We're halfway through his third grade year, and I am so proud of him. I know that there will be many more boxes to fill in the future, and sometimes he will be embarrassed by it. However, these papers mark time, like a living time capsule. I can almost remember each one as he brought them home. I can see him as he has grown.
What a blessed thing to be, a mother of someone who brings home schoolwork, because then I can see this progression of time and events in a tangible form. It is as if I can witness a living timeline right before me. Beautiful.
*Photo by Shanda Leigh Photography
That's so sweet!
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