the boy | matching tracksuits

Conestee Sunday

Sunday 17 September 2023

"Let's go for a walk at Conestee this afternoon," K suggested after lunch. She and the Boy had gone to church while I stayed home and did school work and the Girl headed off to work, so we hadn't spent any time together as a family. Yet as is often the case these days, "time with the family" really only means K and I with the Boy.

The Girl, almost 17 now, has her own life: she hangs out with friends, meets them at football games, goes to dances with them, drives them here and there. She has volleyball and work along with her heavy load of AP classes (all four classes she's taking this semester), which means when she's home, she's usually doing homework. Or sleeping.

Soccer

Saturday 16 September 2023

Water Portrait

Friday 08 September 2023

Lake Day

Sunday 03 September 2023

First Day of Soccer

Saturday 26 August 2023

The Boy played his first two games today: tied the first one.

And in the meantime, two idiots proved themselves to be such.

Fight

Thursday 17 August 2023

The Boy told me about it the moment I walked into the house. "There was a fight at school today. A big fight." Apparently, two boys got into it during lunch, and it happened right in front of the Boy.

"Were you scared?" I asked.

"Yes!" he replied without hesitation or self-awareness of the fact that such a response would definitely mark him at some schools among some kids. One of those involved was someone E knows, and he was a little worried about what was happening to his friend and a little worried about what might happen him.

"I'm definitely in middle school now," he concluded.

Saturday

Saturday 12 August 2023

Such was the day -- working in the yard, working in the house -- that I took one photo the entire day, of the Boy doing his part.

The rest stays in my head -- and in my legs, arms, and exhausted body.

School Year’s Eve

Monday 07 August 2023

Tomorrow, I begin my twenty-fifth year teaching, my sixteenth with Greenville County Schools. Am I ready? I've reviewed and signed all my IEPs and 504 plans. I've worked with other eighth-grade teachers to create this week's lesson plans (and of course, the administration tweaked the lesson plan template, as they do every single year). I've spoken to teachers and administrators about which students I need to focus on early in order to form a good relationship so that when things sour, I have that good relationship to appeal to. I've spoken to my co-teacher in my inclusion class about what we'll be doing and had a fruitful discussion about how we will work together. I've watched (almost) all my safety training videos (the same ones, year after year after year after year after year...). I've done everything I'm supposed to do, and I still don't feel ready for tomorrow.

Part of that is because of what I've heard about this year's group of kids. "They're the toughest bunch we've ever had" was the common assessment of most seventh-grade teachers. I'm not looking forward to a year like that. Yet they always mature some over the summer, so I'm hopeful that will mitigate things a bit.

The Boy, though, feels even less prepared than I do. "I just want to go back to elementary school" has been his mantra. New starts always make him nervous, but K pointed out to him all the new things he's thrived in this summer: a new scouting troop; summer camp with a different scouting troop; band camp with a group of strangers. Still, he's reticent. I can understand that.

The Girl is just ready to go. She's got so many AP classes this year that it's troubling (seven out of her eight classes are AP: four the first semester, three the second semester), but she's stubborn and resilient. She'll make it.

K is not looking forward to the morning rush, but she and I will slip back into it.

Only the animals are calm about it...