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In the first grade, life bubbles over By Chris Erskine
http://www.JewishWorldReview.com | Dear first-graders, At the end of the year, here are a few things I'd like to bring to your attention: You approach each day as if you've already had a glass of As with Champagne itself, you have lots of bubbles and none of them has been burst — Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, corporate capitalism. They all thrive in your crazy, pudding-filled heads. The other day, my own son — who is one of you — lifted his head to the sky and blew, thinking he could move the clouds. First-graders, huh? Get a grip, you kids. Don't you know how life beats you down? Don't you know yet about the discrepancy between dreams and outcomes? No, obviously you don't. You stand around each morning before class, talking about the teeth you lost overnight and noting how the new gaps in your smiles are great for milkshake straws. "My dad pulled out my tooth," Ava says. "He just grabbed it and twisted. There was blood." Oh, quit your bragging, Ava. I see you and your little buddies each day before class, waiting for Mrs. Listen, I've been studying you all year, and I have reached this disturbing conclusion: You have no apparent cliques, you kids. I mean, what are you thinking? This is L.A., for gosh sakes, where we don't even let people into NBA games unless they make I see what you're up to. You're weirdly egalitarian in a world that no longer celebrates such things. You mingle each day as if at some college mixer. Evidently, a first-grader doesn't care much for fashion, or fancy haircuts or what your daddy does. All a first-grader cares about is whether you laugh at his silly jokes. Then you're in his frat. It is a very big frat — the biggest in the world. That doesn't mean it's the best. Seriously, you're all nuts. You're showoffs, too. I've volunteered in the classroom several times over the course of the school year, helping you with your reading, only to discover some of you have larger vocabularies than I do. So, not only are you excessively fair, you're scary smart. I think I hate you. You might be as perfect as people ever get. On occasion, I also read to you. Once, on Dr. But back to the subject at hand: first-graders. Don't care much for you guys. Never have. Never will. One day, before a field trip, the entire class sang a few songs to get the day rolling. You sang a heartfelt "My Country, 'Tis of Thee," then a rousing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." In 100 years, school kids will still be singing 'My Country, 'Tis of Thee" and "Take Me Out to the Ballgame," a small and comforting realization in a large and ornery world. OK, I'll give you that. Occasionally, you can be kind of cute. Before we forget, let's be sure to thank Mrs. Teaching you to write. Teaching you that Ms are not rainbows, and that each letter cannot be an entirely different size or color. When my little guy first began to write, the Os were quite large and the Bs quite minuscule. He took pride in the variation. He worked hard to make each character unique. Somehow, Mrs. Now, to thank her, you kids are leaving, heading off to second grade. In my experience, that's how kids show their appreciation. They leave. No one should ever take it personally. So, goodbye, Mrs. And goodbye, you first-graders. Summer awaits, long and lazy — traditionally a bubble-rich environment. Catch a ballgame. Lose some teeth. Move some clouds. But don't you dare forget first grade, when you were as perfect as people ever get. Every weekday JewishWorldReview.com publishes what many in the media and Washington consider "must-reading". Sign up for the daily JWR update. It's free. Just click here. Comment by clicking here.
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