Two's Firsts

All across the country, students awakened to a school day. Some eagerly anticipate this annual ritual. Others probably prefer to enjoy summer indefinitely. Younger children seem to embrace the academic calendar with more enthusiasm than their elder counterparts. By middle school, the lure of school days is nearly completely focused on one's social life. In high school, each succeeding year brings a bit more freedom until that magical day arrives when the much desired driver's license, or even the learner's permit, is in hand.

Next door to us are six-year-olds who began a new chapter in their lives this morning. Transferring to a neighborhood school, they were almost equally excited and anxious. Depending on which girl to whom you spoke, this change was greeted with enthusiasm or resignation, sometimes both.



Adding to the angst is the fact that for the very first time ever, the girls will be assigned to different teachers. Most likely it is time for the separation but its actual implemention includes a bit of unease. Henry and I stressed the incredible opportunity to meet twice as many new friends and to share all those people between them. That idea had definite appeal. Being able to discuss their individual teachers and compare them also brought a glimmer of interest.

Of course all these conversations are theoretical. It is the first day of first grade for two special little girls. They will have fresh memories to share this evening. We'll be listening and are absolutely sure that the day was totally successful.

After all, they are the most socially adept six-year-olds that we know. Their manners are impeccable. They're cute, funny, incredibly smart and consistently inquisitive. What teachers wouldn't want to have a classroom filled with such students?

One girl has lovely long, silky blonde hair and fair skin. Her sister sports perfect springy curls that frame a face delicately sprinkled with freckles. They are separate, distinct with personalities that are unique. Yet they are devoted siblings who share easily, support each other continually, and are lifelong playmates.

Yesterday afternoon, while we were in the car on the way for ice cream, Henry mentioned a friend of his whom he met when both of them were seven years old. He went on to say that we'd had dinner with this friend just last month, a mere 57 years later. He suggested that each of the girls could meet new friends today and stay in touch with them for many years, just as he had.

The girls listened politely, as they always do. I believe, however, Henry may have lost them when he remarked that 57 years from now will be 2068. That number makes me pause as it is really too extraordinary to contemplate. In that very distant year, the girls will be 64 and they may be talking to their own grandchildren about making friends at school. There's something comforting about such a scenario.

Happy firsts, Hanna and Jessy.