Fifth Grade

My oldest daughter will be eleven in nine weeks. Elven. Years. Old. I understand that time goes fast, but somehow I thought perhaps I would be exempt. Turns out I'm not.

As I ponder the fact that my biggest little girl is in fifth grade this year, my mind lingers back to 1987. When I was in fifth grade. Fifth grade was kind of a defining year for me. It was the year that I was transferred from private school to public school. Funds were low for tuition, so after much hesitation, my sister and I were placed in the local school system.

The "world" welcomed me with open arms.

It greeted me with language I had never heard before. Words that were never on my spelling or vocab homework. Words that I really had no idea how to use, or what they meant. But they sure sounded awfully cool. Especially if you said them loud enough. People always laughed when I did that. I attempted to repeat some of what I'd learned at home, but mom had a complete lack of appreciation for my new vocabulary.

I met a whole new set of friends...and some that wanted to be more. Fifth grade was when I actually was asked out on my first date. Fifth grade. I was so horrified and embarrassed. Not to mention that I had no clue that fifth grade dating even existed. Or dating at all, for that matter. (I was pretty naive still.) I just happen to find a note in my desk one day. After I read it, I felt a pair of eyes burrowing through the back of my head. I turned around and sure enough, chubby Chris was sitting there, smiling at me with these spooktastic googly eyes. Within the privacy of the bathroom walls I confided in my girl friends. I believe that I responded in my true sarcastic nature, "What? Is he going to have his mom drive us to the movies?" It just seemed pure nonsense to me. At first. But I secretly had my pre-pubescent ego stroked by the fact that spiky-haired little Chris kept stalking me for that date over the next school year. He was creepy and rebellious, but at least he wasn't the smelly kid. (That was Todd, and he liked me the following year, in sixth grade.)

I was also introduced to the world of secular music in fifth grade. It was a rather scandalous time for me. We weren't allowed to listen to secular music, or go to dances, or places in which the music pumped loudly from speakers. I always thought this was unfair, ridiculous and a hindrance to my freedom of expression. Until I grew older and actually found out what the words to those George Michael and Tone Loc songs really were all about. I would lay in bed at night with my pink boom box volume turned low, it's speaker cradled closely to my ear. I would sing along with the words, even though I got ninety-eight percent of them wrong. That's rather embarrassing when you and your friends host a sing-a-long party on the school bus. I always told them I was just being funny. But I never really did know all the words. Now that I do, I'm rather appalled. Scandalous, I tell you.

I gained all sorts of knowledge in fifth grade. And I'm not speaking of science, math or history. I couldn't even begin to remember what I learned about Asia, oceans or photosynthesis. It's all rattling around up there somewhere....forever lost in the little file folder of memory labeled, "Things I Once Used to Know." The knowledge I remember learning is in regards to the birds and the bees. More knowledge than I knew what to do with, and most of it being misinformation. Thankfully I was still in the "Ewww...that's disgusting stage". I think the things my friends shared with me pushed me even further over the disgusting edge. I'm pretty sure they had no idea what they were talking about, either. But George Michael filled in the gaps where I had questions. He was my primary physical health educator. I think he's still quite unaware of this. All this new knowledge did however help me better understand a few things that I was wondering about at home. Because while I was in fifth grade, my mom was pregnant....again.

Clothing was never an issue for me....until I reached fifth grade. It came to my attention that children put a lot of stock in style, and those whom weren't "in style" were outcasts. To be mocked and made fun of every day until summer break. I was determined not to be one of those kids. I remember one day I wore my favorite blue Smurf t-shirt to school. Unbenounced to me, Smurf's were completely "out". The kids proceeded to fill me in. Rather tactlessly, might I add. Even though it was a warm fall day, I opted to leave my coat on for the remainder of it. Mrs. Eckhert wasn't fond of that idea. She asked me to remove my coat. I informed her I was cold, and absolutely needed it to stay on. She didn't care for my obstinate attitude. The coat came off. I remember smelling hideous for the rest of the day...I was so nervous about being made fun of for the shirt, that sweaty armpits flared up, giving all the more reason for attention to be drawn to me. Oh, the humiliation of it all. A young girl just can't win.

As I ponder these things, I can't help but giggle. Seems so foolish now, but when I was young these things were huge. They were relevant to me and the choices I would make, thus pertaining to the future that would come. Isn't it amazing the things that impact us when we're young?

As I watch my fifth grader sit and quietly do her homework I just can't help but smile, remembering my experiences as a fifth grader. And be thankful. I kind of like how her fifth grade year is going.