Whatever you do in life, whether it's running a race or building a skyscraper, it's always an advantage to get off to a great start. So today, as our boys embark on their last day of school with their eyes and swim gear firmly pointed toward summer, I'd like to offer a little thanks to the wonderful head starts in life they're about to leave behind. Today is Ian's last day of pre-school. I know a lot of people think of pre-school as nothing more than a period of time or a building kids hang out in before they're old enough to take on the rigors of K through 12. I say that because that's exactly what I used to think. That's before I met Kiddie Kingdom, where both of our boys spent what I now fondly call their kindergarten preparation years. Today Ian leaves behind Ms. Corinne and Ms. Betty. They are the wonderful teachers who've committed this past year to seeing Ian roll into kindergarten with momentum on his side, not feeling the breeze of it as others read and write and think their way right on by him. For the past 4 years, Ian has been surrounded by teachers and staff who see the children in their care as an opportunity to mold futures, and not keepsakes they're obligated to return in one piece at the end of the day. (Although I'm extremely grateful that's how Ian was always returned to us, because I'll be the first to admit, he's not an easy kid to keep in one piece.) And today, Elliott will spend his final day in a classroom learning from Ms. Hoggan. She's been Elliott's teacher the past two years. He and we have been blessed by her passion and sheer determination to teach kids. Whenever I'm tempted to believe the bad rap our teachers get these days, I go visit Henry Clay Elementary and get a dose of Ms. Hoggan. She reminds me of a couple of teachers I had early in my schooling. They hunted down the good in me like a tenacious bloodhound tracks a lost child. And when they found it, they kept pulling and pulling until they had every last ounce of it out of me. They found strengths I'm convinced no other teacher would have found. They were keen and creative enough to find the building blocks that largely shape who I am today. Ms. Hoggan has spent the last 2 years discovering greatness in some children who are now ready to let it shine as second graders. And children who will no doubt shine it all over the world as adults one day. I'm sure on occasion, though, in the midst of all the greatness they are enjoying and spreading, they'll look back with gratitude to the wonderful lady who first discovered it. Sometimes I do wonder, how did the person who discovered the world become more famous than the people who are discovering in its inhabitants the hidden gems that determine the way it thinks and feels. As far as the gems that have been discovered in Elliott and Ian goes, Katie and I are blessed. We've been able to afford to send our kids to the best place imaginable for kindergarten preparation at Kiddie Kingdom, and to live in a community with highly regarded schools like Henry Clay Elementary, which attracts great educators like Ms. Hoggan. Our government likens educating our children to a race - a race to the top. At the top is the opportunity to earn millions and join the elite who shape the policies and laws the rest of us live by. The only way you win that race to the top is by crossing the finish line that is an elite university, which requires you to have elite grades and standardized test scores. There's no way to get there with a false start, and in a growing number of cases, no start at all. So we've been blessed. I believe our government is misguided in what the top should actually look like, though, and even more so about what it should take for someone to get there. Even so, this week our leaders are driving home again that college education is the key to our kids' futures, as they are fighting to forgive and reduce the debt college graduates incur while joining the race that government policies stop just short of insisting they join. College graduates shouldn't be paying more than 10% of their income to pay off college debt, they say. Meanwhile, a large number of us are spending up to 20% of our income on health insurance and much larger percentages on a place to live. Priorities? It's typical of government to be reactionary. They are standing at exit doors of elite college graduations wondering where the rest of the world is. That large groups and classes of people aren't there is somehow the fault of high school and middle school teachers, and the answer to that is in the accountability of non-stop testing and assessment. I'm here to tell you, at the end of all of this debt forgiveness and this futile standardized testing journey, you're going to find the exact same kids coming through those elite college exit doors. That's because the problem isn't at the end, it's at the beginning. Until our leaders become more focused on how well prepared our kids are entering the K-12 journey than the SAT score they bring out of it, a lot of young minds are going to go to waste. Until they insist that every community has elementary schools that attract teachers like Ms. Hoggan, kids with undiscovered greatness are going to be written off as troublemakers and disruptions to those setting the pace in the imaginary race to the top. I'm not sure why our boys have been blessed with the opportunities of Kiddie Kingdom and Ms. Hoggan. I do know it gives them a head start on the race to the top. But in our family's book, the race to the top has nothing to do with a particular college, or even college at all. It comes in discovering the joy of learning and the uniqueness they both hold through their God given gifts. I'm so grateful Ms. Hoggan and all the wonderful people of Kiddie Kingdom have given our boys the head start they need to face whatever race that comes their way. I pray one day more kids will have the same head start.
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Dear Ian, Congratulations, buddy. You've sucked me into writing a sappy pre-school graduation letter. And be not mistaken, pal, nothing is sappier. Only a few years ago I'd have been willing to wager my second born son - that's you by the way - that I would never write one. I guess it's a good thing for both of us I didn't find any takers for that bet. Things change though. Just yesterday I had a couple of babies running around our house. School days felt decades away. Today, though, you graduate pre-school and suddenly the decades have dwindled to mere months before those babies will be sharing the hallways of the same elementary school. Yea, I hear you. You're not much for this serious stuff and you're wondering what the big deal is. Me too. It's probably just sentimental. You're talking about a dad who never really cared for the idea of having babies. Then your mom started handing them out as Christmas presents and eventually gave me a pair of them. (In case you're wondering, she didn't didn't wrap them.) The most bizarre thing happened after I received them, though. I liked them. A lot. I discovered babies make very cool gifts. Between me and you, Ian, there's always been something a little unique about your cool. I go with unique in a letter to you. If I were to write one of my close friends I'd call your cool scarier than trying to outrun a herd of bulls in Pamplona. My friends would understand too - they knew me. All I'd have to do is tell them about that familiar glimmer of excitement that burns perpetually in the corner of your right eye, the one that lights the way for each next adventure, even if it involves a little mischief, and they'd get my fear. Like a father gets a son they'd get it. I've tried hard to deny that I see me in you. Lately, though, I've conceded that point and have turned to pretending the me in you won't find as much trouble in school as the me in me found. But before I get too deep into pretending, or worrying, I'm reminded of how my mistakes have molded who I am today. That doesn't necessarily bring me a lot of comfort, but sometimes you just have to settle for perspective while you wait for comfort to arrive. Sometime when I think of you I hear the echoes of my great-grandmother calling me ornery. But I know she'd find the same sweetness in you she used to squeeze out of me every time she got a hold of me. I love that you see the world as a playground and not a battlefield, and that you believe everyone on that playground should have a chance to play. Sometimes I think we should all have a little glimmer in the corner of our right eye. And maybe all of this isn't about being sentimental. Some of it's recognizing that as you start kindergarten and learn more, you'll be measuring more of the world you learn about by what you see in me. I confess, some days that makes the pressure of your little eyes feel weightier than a simple observation should feel. But I knew this day would come, when life would get more serious than setting trash cans on fire in the boys bathroom - please don't regard that as a confession, Mr. Fenton. And right now, life doesn't get more serious than the example I feel I owe boys longing to become men. I don't know, all I can do is follow the advice I'll give you as you go from pre-school to school and from school to work and work to wife and to wife giving you babies for Christmas. Follow God pal. He'll lead, you follow. Sure, every once in a while take a look at me. I don't know if you'll see me getting it right. Part of me doesn't care, as long as you see even a glimpse of how much I love you. I'm glad you're my boy. Dad P.S. - One other small piece of advice. Your mother is busy and won't respond well to frequent calls into the principal's office. I'll do everything I can to soften the blow, but it's my experience dads are fairly useless in that regard, if they have any interest at all in taking on that assignment. No words start a day off worse than hearing "Ian, you just broke dad's iPad." In the echo of that recent Sunday morning announcement, there were some tense moments, especially when the details emerged of an angry Ian, a wildly swinging leg, and a tragically located iPad. In the immediate aftermath, I thought it would help burying Ian in guilt, so I reminded him over and over and over that he'd essentially just peed on a $750 bill. Of course nothing diverts Ian's attention from the issue at hand quicker than a potty word. And it didn't help matters that Elliott was now standing next to Ian in a state of confusion, clearly trying hard to recall which president is on the $750 bill. So much got lost in that moment. Ian was eventually issued a temporary restraining order forbidding him to touch anything electronic until he could earn enough money to replace my iPad. Given that he was currently making a buck a load helping his mama fold laundry, I figured muscle fatigue would derail any hopes of him touching an Apple product other than a Red Delicious before he graduated high school. His mama figured that, too, I think, so she came to his rescue. Katie decided to look on the bright side of Ian's powerful leg extension and enrolled him in martial arts training. It would help with his discipline, she told me. Nice, I thought. Will this help him fold more laundry? An unexpected thing happened, though. Ian really got into it. And yes, I could see him getting more disciplined, but it was more than that. Being the little brother, Ian is always trying to keep up with Elliott. He wants to throw the ball as far, run as fast, read as well, draw better pictures - and not just as well, the more I think about it, but he wants to do all of those things better than Elliott. Most, if not all of the time, that doesn't happen, and it makes him mad. (See broken iPad above.) With the martial arts, though, Ian finally had his own thing. Elliott wasn't involved, so Ian was superior by default. And to Ian superior is superior, so he was all smiles. Last night came the biggest smile of all. All week Ian had been talking about testing for his yellow belt last night. I was out working on a project while he was testing, but found myself wondering how he'd do. I don't think I'd ever seen him pursuing a goal with the kind of commitment and enthusiasm he was chasing this belt, so I was really rooting for him. When I came home Ian met me at the door and told me to go sit in my chair. Then, with no shortage of drama, he revealed the yellow belt. Wild high-fives started flying everywhere. We paused for a moment to make sure there weren't any iPads in our path, then started swinging a few more around. I love watching people achieve goals. I really love watching my 5 year-old achieve his first big one. So chalk this experience up to another brilliant idea from the mama of this family. In addition to her brilliance, though, Katie has also led the campaign to lift Ian's restraining order. She labored away for hours repairing the iPad screen with a kit she ordered on the internet. It was a bit cheaper than replacing the soiled $750 bill - about $730 cheaper to be exact. And now, thanks to a small bag of change Ian brought home from grandma and grandpas house last weekend, a reflection of his hard work and not their sympathy, I'm sure, Ian's made things right. Judging by the look on his face last night, though, I think he gladly trade that iPad in for a yellow belt. Now that it's back in one piece, I think I'd take that trade. This past Sunday, I almost missed a moment I'm sure I would have regretted missing. With little warning, Katie reminded me about the Kiddie Kingdom art show, which would include some of Ian's work. Our weekend had already been packed full of work and fun when she told me about the art show. We'd actually just returned from an afternoon at Kings Dominion, and I was frankly ready to spend the rest of my birthday relaxing. Katie offered to take Ian to the art show and let me stay behind. I'm sure inside she knew that was a bad option and hoped I'd come to that conclusion as well. With a little thought, I did. We walked into the art show and had little trouble finding Ian's work. When I saw the pride on his face, his joy in sharing his creativity, I forgot how much I originally didn't want to be there. As we took in the rest of the students' creations that clung proudly to the walls throughout the building, it hit me that this was our last Kiddie Kingdom art show - at least ones that included Elliott and Ian's work. I'm now motivated to propose an alumni art show. We've been so blessed by the opportunities our kids have had spending their pre-school years at Kiddie Kingdom. Not the least of them is both boys have developed a creative side that makes them interesting and entertaining little creatures at home, and has well prepared both of them for kindergarten. (On a side note, with all that gets talked about in education reform, advocates should be screaming loudest for all kids to have the kind of opportunity our kids have received at Kiddie Kingdom. There's no good reason all kids shouldn't start kindergarten with the kind of early education our kids have received. End of rant) I was reminded as we pulled away from the show that gratitude doesn't come naturally. There are times it requires a search party. Sometimes we have to look at our kids and make the personally inconvenient choice to place their opportunity to be noticed by their parents over our opportunity to spend a few moments noticing nothing. Granted, there is often peace in noticing nothing, and there is also a tremendous risk you'll miss something beautiful. Thank you to the Kiddie Kingdom staff for their continued commitment to our kids and this annual event to showcase the cool things they come up with together. I had a long day yesterday. Likely no longer than yours, but it was long. And it was Monday. I was out the door early for a trip to Maryland, and then racing - quite literally over large stretches of northbound I-95 - to make it home for a meeting at church last night. It was during a particular weary moment of the trip when I received a text message from my wife that contained a picture of our boys playing who can do the best Fonzie impersonation in the bathroom after school. For you younger folks, I apologize for the Fonzie reference. I encourage you to watch some old Happy Days episodes on one of the online streaming platforms. Here's the thing. My wife Katie probably thought she was doing something funny. A quick and cool thing to share. She's right. But what she probably didn't know is just how much it would mean to me to know that when she saw this boy moment, she thought of me. She refused to let me miss it. I thank her for that. Somebody will do something seemingly small and meaningless in your life today. Thank them and make it monumental. Yesterday, Elliott took part in the ultimate triathlon: a one-mile run early in the morning (The Tiger Trot), an Upward basketball game mid-morning, and an afternoon of rock climbing with friends at a birthday party. Needless to say, he was ready for bed last night. Both boys actually ran in the Tiger Trot. When we originally talked to them about the race, we tried to talk them into the shorter 1/2 mile run that started the event. When we did, Ian looked at me like I had been overcome with dementia and had forgotten the 2-mile run he did at the park a few weeks back. The one I bragged about for days. So we signed them both up for the mile. A group of Elliott's friends started the race together. At one point Ian was with them, but when I looked over at the starting line as the race was getting ready to start, he was nowhere to be found. This set me off in a bit of a frantic search for him. The search was brief. I found him at the other end of the line, slightly hunched over with his hands out in a runner's starting position of sorts. Ian was in his own world, ready to dominate. I have to admit, when they both took off on this mile run, I wondered if they'd return without the assistance of Hanover County Search and Rescue. I knew they could both run a mile, but I was afraid they'd attack it like they do the twenty yards of sidewalk in front of our house in one of their heated foot races and fall out in exhaustion after 100 yards. As it turned out, Elliott was among the first group of runners to return to the finish line. He finished 9th among the other 5-12 year olds. And not much later, mid-pack, along came Ian. We were incredibly proud of them both. It was a wonderful affirmation of the value of the time they spend outside running around like Labrador Retrievers. Some highlights from Elliott's unconventional triathlon: This is Elliott and Ian's idea of pre-race warm ups. Game face on - CHECK. Finishing with a big kick and even more determination. Hard to tell if Ian is finishing strong or just showing off for the young lady next to him. Elliott playing some D. Elliott getting off the floor to block a shot. Elliott getting off the floor to scale a rock. Game face on - CHECK. No doubt - one high speed, high flying day! I share my wife's love for taking pictures. I simply don't possess her gift for taking them. And I'm OK with that. There's a lot of flexibility that comes with doing anything under the presumption you will always do it with amateur status. When Katie snaps a picture, there is a beautiful story already painted in her mind that she is compelled to capture with pictures in a way she can share exactly what she was seeing with others. When I man the camera, I hope the resulting pictures will reveal a totally unexpected story that will entertain others as much as it did me when I discovered it. When the boys and I were at the playground yesterday I began snapping pictures of them playing together. It wasn't until I got home and looked through the photos that one of those unexpected tales unfolded. As thrilled as I would have been to be more in tuned with it when it was actually going on at the playground, I'm glad I was able to capture it as an amateur photographer. The reality is, had I been paying more attention to what they were actually doing I might have stepped into a story I really didn't belong in, and the pictures would have told a far less memorable tale. A new week is beginning. In some ways it feels like the start of a new year. I spent the weekend dreaming of just how much different this week will be than the last. I feel like somewhere I should have a list of resolutions. Turn the page on a calendar. The reality is resolutions in this case would be pointless. The things that made last week a week to forget but one I'll always remember are completely out of my control. Ian's asthma flared up and he spent a couple of days in the hospital. At the same time, Mother Nature decided to drop 2 inches of snow on us, likely the result of a backroom deal with local students anxious to escape end of semester exams. They clearly drug our local VDOT workers into the negotiations. Many area roads were more favorable for Olympic speed skaters in training than automobiles 4 days after the event. The Ohioan in me refuses to call the event a storm. Don't get me wrong, it wouldn't be unlike me to make a resolution to make this week better than last. I think there are days I believe I can actually control things like asthma and snow. Those are days I'm probably too busy dreaming or planning an alternate reality to see God's hands in the one before me. One probably not as comfortable at first glance than the one I had planned. We can start with Ian's Asthma attack. A year ago Katie's job situation would have made it far less convenient to spend 2 days at the hospital with Ian. I say "less" convenient because there is never anything convenient about sleeping and eating and worrying bedside of a sick child. But Ian loves his mama, so the load of his ordeal was significantly lightened having her there with him. And believe me, there is no better mama to nurse our sick kids. (I do hope every dad out there wants to fight me over that claim). Then there's the understanding that Ian's hospital stay will likely not be a cheap one. But just a few months ago we were wrestling with health insurance issues that now in hindsight got resolved just in time. So not a cheap stay, but a whole lot cheaper than it otherwise could have been. Hospital stays often come with boredom. Ian's stay was a little more bored than it had to be because our family was without the iPad Ian quite unnecessarily broke the week before. I won't kick a sick boy while he's down, but for a while there it was a wonderful natural consequence for Ian to experience. Until mama grew tired of reading him stories, singing him songs and doing her best Caillou impressions - things an iPad can do when the parent runs out of batteries. To the rescue comes dear friends Rob Smith and family. Rob, upon hearing of Ian's battle with sudden electronics depravation (SED), jumped into his car and drove across town through Mother Nature's "event" to loan Ian a Nook (iPad-like electronic device). A Nook that belonged to his daughter, who was more than happy to lend it to Ian with hopes it would make him feel better. They also brought some coloring books and an extension cord for Katie so it would be easier for her to charge her phone. I must add that my mother-in-law made Rob some homemade biscuits over the weekend to thank him for his efforts. I've had her biscuits, so I know he has unexpectedly been compensated nicely for the trip. Whether it was Rob's visit or grandma and grandpa's, countless phone calls and text messages, well wishes through Facebook and email, cards and gifts delivered from Ian's schoolmates, offers from teachers and friends to look after Elliott while he was out of school during the snow event, and persistent thoughts and prayers, our friends and family made their presence felt in such a strong way last week. Too often we forget how many of these folks we have in our life and how much they mean to us. And then I must confess, with two boys in the house things often get chaotic. And loud. What I wouldn't do some days for quiet. Last week I had plenty of it. While Ian was in the hospital the house couldn't have been any more still. Within the early seconds of having it, though, I found myself begging for the return of chaos, and couldn't have been more grateful when it came knocking at the front door. The quiet wasn't all bad, though. Katie sent me a text message while she was with Ian in the hospital asking me to help Elliott finish up a school project. I discovered it's much easier to finish something up that has actually been started. So we started and then completed the timeline of Elliott's life project. In doing so, Elliott and I spent some time going back through the articles and pictures on this blog to find materials for the project. What a trip down memory lane. What a blessing to discover all along God has been preparing through my blogging the absolute wrong person with the right materials to frantically complete a 1st grade homework assignment. Do you want to know the real irony of the week. My plans for order and predictability last week were disrupted by hospital visits and Mother Nature. And then there was this area in my life last week where I had actually predicted chaos, and up showed just the opposite: unexpected delight. I'm talking about my Upward basketball coaching experience. I previous wrote a blog post about launching my basketball coaching career in sheer panic: Nowhere To Go But Upward. This past Saturday we had our first game, though. The kids were great. They listened. They played hard. They looked out for one another. They treated the other team with respect. And they won. Elliott tried to convince me we actually lost, but it's an argument that will be hard to settle since we don't keep score. So just trust me, the Dragons won. I guess last week was a good reminder that I probably spend way too much time planning for and trying to manufacture predictability in my life, when over and over life makes one thing crystal clear: it is unpredictable if nothing else. There is so much more value in taking time to see the lessons in it all. The stories. And being grateful for each of them. I shared a quote last week that rings more clear in meaning this morning than it did when I shared it: Cultivate the habit of being grateful for all good things that come to you, and to give thanks continually. And because all things have contributed to your advancement, you should include all things in your gratitude. - Ralph Waldo Emerson Earlier this week I announced the beginning of my basketball coaching career. Me leading a bunch of 5-7 year old boys and girls. It's a recipe for disaster. We did have our second practice last night and much like the first, it wasn't so bad. In fact it was pretty good. So who knows. The one thing about disasters is they are all relative. I mean, I should be grateful. I was asked to coach basketball. I very easily could have been recruited to be Ian's martial arts instructor. Don't laugh. If someone out there thinks it's a good idea for me to coach a 1st grade basketball team, it's not unthinkable that someone things I'm the man to build Ian into the next Karate Kid. The Ian and martial arts idea is Katie's. All of it. I personally couldn't picture Ian running around in a white costume - or, as he and Katie have made clear to me - uniform, whipping his arms through the air like runaway fan blades, all the while mimicking the grunts and groans he's picked up from various iPad fighting apps (bloodless, deathless and free of course), and actually have someone think that was a good idea. Then Katie told me a martial arts story about something that happened in our hallway shortly after he started taking the class. Right about now you're waiting for me to tell you about a high leg kick through the wall leaving nothing but a gaping hole and some dangling plaster. But that's not the story. According to Katie, she corrected Ian about something and then asked him if he understood. He shockingly replied, "yes ma'am." I asked Katie if it was her assertion that this miracle had taken place because of martial arts and not Jesus. She confidently responded that's what martial arts is all about. Discipline. Respect. Hmmm.......... (Elliott, my son, the bad news is I've just cut you from my basketball team. The good news is you're now in Ian's martial arts class.) Last night I asked Ian to demonstrate one of the moves he's been working on. He gave me a serious look, silently asking me If I knew the dangers associated with what I was asking. I nearly laughed. Hard. But I stopped myself. Ian's serious moments are infrequent; I didn't want to do anything to discourage this one. With great focus, he lined himself up sideways in front of me. He slowly leaned and shifted all of his weight to the foot furthest away from me, then with a burst, shot the leg closest to me nearly straight out and racing toward me. Fortunately his leg isn't much longer than a McDonald's drink straw or serious damage might have occurred. When Ian finished lowering his leg, he gave me a cocky look like I should be grateful it didn't. So, yes, I'm suddenly ver grateful for my hoops assignment, I very easily could have been put in charge of grooming the next Karate Kid. |