In six and a half years, I don’t think our Mia’s ever lived through a week with such an obvious paradox etched across her face. Those last few days of school were hard on her.
And the two sides of her heart were having quite the skirmish.
With the end of the school year just a few hot lunches away, Mia didn’t know whether she should be feeling sad, happy, or a healthy percentage of each.
The resulting confusion bled across her face like one of her watercolors left too long on the porch.
Haven’t we all been there before; probably more times than we care to count (or admit)?
Mia’s excited about spending Summer at home (no schlepping in the car and racing across town before her breakfast is even digested), and she’s looking forward to a quality of downtime that she hasn’t really had in any significant measure for the past nine months, but Mia also knows that it’s going to be ten weeks before she sees any of her friends again, and that next September, when we pull up to the school with a fresh backpack and fresh expectations, her Señora will be Maestra to another class.
Mia’s first teacher was tremendous; everything Daisy and I had hoped for. She loved our daughter, and, even better, she checked her in all the ways that our little girl needs to be checked. Like any great mother, Señora gave Mia a generous amount of rope, but also knew when it was time to pull it tight.
She encouraged Mia’s assets, discouraged her deficiencies, and stretched her mental rubber band (sometimes to the snapping point). She spoke to her with a strong voice and direct language, inspiring her to try countless new things and admirably succeed at many of them.
Mia will miss her terribly, and so will we.
But it was good to see her work through such conflicting emotions and arrive on solid ground. The summer’s going swimmingly so far. She misses her teacher, but she’s using her feelings to make herself a better writer.
What more could a writer dad, or a writer mom for that matter, ever ask?
Writer Dad
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