Dear Tobin,

Third grade is done, and you’re proud to be a fourth-grader. Your tenth birthday will be upon us by the end of the summer, too. You don’t have any camps this year, because you’re still unvaccinated, but you’ve been having outdoor taekwondo, park and creek playdates with friends, and you just set up a standing online Minecraft session with a friend. I’m glad you’re such a naturally social person, because it makes me feel less bad about not having anything scheduled for you. While both your brothers would probably be happy playing video games all day, you require more action and changes of scenery. You’re always up for a walk around the neighborhood, a trip to the park, or a water squirter battle.

A couple of days ago, we went out for a walk, and we started brainstorming about your eleventh-year trip. We picked that age because when Miles turned eleven, we went to Universal Studios, mostly for Harry Potter World. That’s how old Harry was when he started at Hogwarts, so it seemed like a good moment to celebrate. You, of course, don’t want to be left out of the action (even though you went along to Orlando), but your plans are a little more elaborate that the three-day weekend we spent in Florida. You have a whole scheme planned out in which we rent an RV and drive westward. We’ll stop in Ft. Collins, Colorado, because we had a fun night there on our way to Estes Park a couple of summers ago. After that we’ll venture to Rocky Mountain National Park, then up to Yellowstone. We don’t have all the details sorted out yet, and you may well change your mind in the next year-plus, but it sounds like an interesting experience. It also sounds like a whole lot of driving, which is not my favorite, but you assure me that RV life is luxurious. You can even get ones with showers and kitchens, you’re certain of it.

Maybe in order to hone your skills for RV life, you’ve been interested in helping in our kitchen lately. I made a family favorite for dinner a couple of nights ago, a dual-dish stir fry (beef with snow peas and chicken with cashews). It’s one of your favorite dinners, and you take pride in helping make it, too. Previously, you’d just helped with stirring the ingredients in the wok, but this time you cut vegetables and did most of the sauce-making. I hope you can attend some kind of cooking camp next summer. It’s fun having you in the kitchen with me, especially now that we have extra space (much more than in an RV, but who’s counting?).

It’s hard to know what the upcoming school year will be like. We imagine that most families will choose in-person school for the fall, because COVID rates in our community have gotten a lot lower, and we have hope that a vaccine will be available for your age group in the fall. I truly wish the governor had not eliminated our community’s ability to have a mask mandate, because mask requirements in school made me feel a lot better about sending you back in person, but at this point it’s a calculated risk. It’s hard to ever feel safe, with news of more contagious variants that cause more severe illness in the news, but I guess I take a risk every time you leave the house. And, frankly, you take a fair amount of risks in the house. Who knew you could climbs so high up our walls? It’s on our list to get the interior walls painted this summer, and we won’t be able to put it off much longer with all those footprints on them. The hardest part for you will be waiting for the walls to dry before you ascend them again.

I think third grade went reasonably well for you, despite all the challenges. You seem to have done well academically, though I feel like I have the loosest grasp on your school performance out of all the kids. With Callum, I sat with him through every lesson, so I always knew what he was doing. With Miles, he required so much help managing his homework tasks and deadlines that I felt very connected to his work. You just sailed through, barely needing any help except with the occasional science experiment. One fun extra activity you did was an after-school writing class. The inspiration for the class was the new fish statues outside Hancher Auditorium, and kids from local schools who participated in various sessions of the class got to nominate names for the fish. You were very proud that your suggestion was selected in your group, so we’re definitely going to have to take a trip out there to see Fin some time soon.

I’ve been thinking about how much you enjoy live theater, and it will be so great to get back to it. If you’re vaccinated this fall, I could potentially see theater tickets under the Christmas tree for us again. It’s a tradition we had to skip last year, which was a shame, and I would love to get back to it. I have no idea what kind of events will be happening onstage, but half the fun is the adventure. You always manage to talk me into treats at intermission, too. I’m kind of a sucker for you. Something tells me that if you checked my browser history, you might find some searches for local RV rentals. What can I say? You’re irresistible. Your enthusiasm, joy, and energy make you magnetic. I want to treasure these years while you still like me and want to spend a week or more in a tin can with me. You’ll be a grumpy teenager soon enough.

Your current favorites: listening to audiobooks, playing Minecraft, watching YouTube videos, pizza, barbecue chips (ideally kettle-cooked), being outside, swinging from monkey bars, and Starbursts. You’ve also learned to scoop your own ice cream, so that’s handy (though bad for our ice cream supply).

I would say it’s going to be a lazy summer, but nothing about you is lazy. I love you, you little fireball.

Love,

Mom

Dear Callum,

As of yesterday, you are a kindergarten graduate. I’ve already reflected on all the learning you’ve done over the last school year in this space, but it seems like a good time to say it again: you really learned a lot. I’ve always had faith in our neighborhood school, because Miles and Tobin had good experiences there, but I was nervous about how things would go online. It was definitely a team effort. For probably the first half of the year, you needed me by your side for every minute of classwork. You tended to space out and not engage with the teacher or your classmates, and I had to be there to keep you on track. As the year progressed, though, you got more and more involved, and by the end, I sometimes had to rein you in so you wouldn’t dominate class discussions.

The asynchronous work still required a lot of guidance from me, but we got it done, and you absolutely made academic progress. With your two big brothers, the learning process was a bit mysterious. Obviously they both learned to read and do math and all the other things kindergartners do, but I didn’t really witness the process. This year, I saw you build basic skills, expand on them, take some risks, make some mistakes, and try again.

Yesterday you went to school in person for the first time this whole year in order to attend an end-of-year party. I was afraid you’d be shy, but you were so excited about the activities that you dived right in. You had fun with water squirters, bubbles, bouncy balls, and popsicles. You even got to see your old friend Ms. Dee. You were happy to see her, but I think she was even happier to see you. At bedtime last night, you told me, “Ms. Dee hugged me so hard I almost threw up.” Things are still a little unsettled in the school community. There were many staffing changes this year in order to address the needs of both the in-person and online programs, and I anticipate just as many changes next year as most students move back to the in-person model. That means I’m not sure who the first grade teachers will be at your school. Unfortunately, the gem of teacher Tobin had for first grade is now working in another school district, so we can’t pin our hopes on her. I really hope you have a good first grade experience to help reestablish you as a regular student.

After much hang-wringing, I’m pretty sure we’ve decided that you will go to school in-person next fall. The vaccine for your age group is unlikely to be approved until September, and unfortunately our local mask mandates were rendered invalid by a governor who thinks basic safety measures are a major threat to freedom. All I can really do is establish the expectation that you will wear a mask when near others (though I’m not sure how that will work at lunch time in the crowded cafeteria), even though masks work best when all parties wear them. You and Tobin will be first in line for the vaccine once it’s approved, that’s for sure.

Whatever blooms in late April and early May has now done its job and withered, which means you’re past the puffy, itchy eye stage of spring. You still have allergies, but our regular regimen of Zyrtec and Benadryl can handle them effectively enough that you don’t suffer too much. That means more outside playtime, including lots of time in the park (when it’s not too hot, which it has been lately). You like playing with your friends Marian and Sebastian, and you and your dad and brothers have been playing baseball a lot lately. In a normal year, you and Tobin would probably be on a baseball team right now. Tobin has been doing taekwondo in the park, and maybe you’d enjoy that too. For now, you like going with him and playing with the other taekwondo students and siblings.

You’ve missed the last couple of taekwondo nights because you had two very similar, very weird bouts of illness. You got some kind of stomach bug that gave you intense but short-lived rounds of nausea and vomiting. It reminded me of a time I had food poisoning—lots of stomach cramps and frequent vomiting even after your stomach was empty, so it was just stomach acid and the few sips of water or Sprite you managed to get down. Both times, it ended as abruptly as it came on, just 12 hours or so after its onset. We can’t pinpoint anything you ate that no one else in the family had, and nobody else got your bug. One theory is that you’d been playing in the creek the night before, and maybe you splashed some creek water into your mouth or put your fingers in your mouth when they had creek water on them. But that only addresses one of the times it happened, because the first time, we’d been in a rainy spell and you hadn’t been playing outside. It’s all confusing, but mostly I just wish you’d keep your hands out of your mouth.

One very good development you’ve made is that your obsession with keeping things seems to have faded. You bought a fancy new water bottle with your own money, and you really like it, but what surprised me most was that you’ve suggested several times that we give away your old one to Goodwill. A month or two ago, you would not have thought that was a good idea at all. I’m glad to know that it was just a phase and not the start of a life-long hoarding issue.

While you’re getting better at saying goodbye to excess items, it was hard on you to say goodbye to your teachers. As the countdown of your Zoom sessions got lower and lower, you got a little tearful at the end of each one. Two of your specials teachers emailed me to make sure you were okay. I am especially grateful to your specials teachers, notably your music, guidance, and library teachers. Despite seeing the students only once a week on Zoom, they really made the effort to forge connections and treat you kindly. For the online school year, they were assigned from all over the district, but you were happy to know that you’ll still see Ms. Hallie sometimes, because she usually works at your school. You were also proud to note that you’ll definitely still see your art teacher, because she’s not just your art teacher, she’s also our family friend. Those consistencies will help the transition, I’m sure.

Your current favorites: reading out loud (especially Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You?); strawberries; ice cream; your school-issued Chromebook that you get to keep for four years, including during breaks; playing with water squirters; helping me water the garden; and going on adventures. This summer’s adventures will probably be mostly outdoor, but the library has some nice activities happening in local parks, and we’ve got some plans to go strawberry picking at a local farm. We also need a new sprinkler, which I’m sure you’ll be happy to help select and test.

I’m so proud of all your growth this year, Callum. Despite the unusual circumstances, you learned all kinds of things, and I’m honored to have been there to guide you. As long as you can learn to keep your hands out of your mouth, I think you’re right on track. We’re going to have a fun summer.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Miles,

You have now completed the seventh grade. You actually went to school today for a last-day party, and you seemed to have a good time. You hung out with old friends and connected with some new ones whom you had only met online before. You ate a snow cone and were cheerful when I picked you up. You insisted on wearing a hooded sweatshirt even though it’s ninety degrees outside.

What a year it’s been. I never expected you to spend less than your full K-12 experience in anything but a traditional public school environment, but here we are. It hasn’t been easy on you. Because you only had a Zoom with each class every other day, you were expected to do a lot of work that would ordinarily be completed during classtime during “asynchronous” time. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you used most of your asynchronous study time sleeping. That made for a lot of late-night work, which was mostly okay, except we realized a couple of weeks ago that you were far behind in a couple of subjects. I did some  asking around to other parents of online junior high students, and it’s a very common situation. It was pretty frustrating, though, because I kept thinking you were on track. Every night before bed, I’d stick my head in your room and ask you if you’d finished your homework. You always said yes, and I didn’t think to double-check whether you actually had or not. I don’t know if it was an honesty issue or a confusion about how to do things coupled with reluctance to ask for help, but it became a substantial problem.

Fortunately, we caught it in time that you were able to rally and get your work made up. You ended the semester with very good grades, and I hope you’ve learned enough this year that next year will go okay. It was a year that gave you many opportunities to learn about topics far beyond the course content: you were challenged beyond your limits in terms of personal organization and responsibility, and it’s a really good thing your teachers were mostly understanding and flexible about letting you make up work.

It will be interesting to compare online seventh grade to in-person eighth grade, in terms of your academic and social development. It’s such a time of change, and I hope you navigate it okay. As I was waiting for you at school today, I saw you leave the building next to a very tall kid. It’s obvious that this life stage is one of great variation, and you looked so little next to him. I couldn’t tell for sure if you were hanging out with him or if you were just leaving at the same time, so when you got to the car, I asked if you knew him. “You mean Jacob?” you asked, referring to your long-time best friend.

Apparently Jacob has gone through some personal development over the last year that I missed. I’ve heard his voice through your computer plenty of times, as he’s part of the group you often chat with. I noticed his voice had gotten lower, but I didn’t realize his looks had changed so drastically. It makes me wonder what else is happening with your friends that’s completely off my radar.

You seem very relieved to be done with the school year. You have most of June free, then you have a couple of camps in July and August. A big piece of news for you is that you got both your doses of the Pfizer vaccine this month, and in another week, you will have reached fully-vaccinated status. That’s what made us feel confident signing you up for in-person camps. This may be the last year you’re eligible for your favorite FilmScene animation camp, and I’m really glad you’ll be able to do it. You’ve also chosen to attend Audition Bootcamp, a preparatory class for future auditions. You really wanted to try out for the teen musical a local theater puts on most summers, but the pandemic derailed this year’s and last year’s. Maybe with this audition workshop under your belt, you’ll be in better shape for the summer of 2022.

Though you would prefer to be in your room at all times, we’ve managed to drag you outside a few times to enjoy cocktail hour on the balcony. It’s been too hot to be out much lately, but maybe we’ll get a few moderate days before the full blast of summer hits us. I enjoy taking walks with you, and even though you grumble a lot through the process of putting on shoes and leaving the house, once we’re out, we often have good talks. I hope to get us all to the pool a few times before the season is out as well.

I’ve been doing a few things with Family Folk Machine lately, and it’s not quite the same without you. You’ve been by my side, sometimes literally and sometimes elsewhere in the room, the entire time I’ve been involved with FFM. Maybe this fall you’ll be able to get involved again. We did a virtual session this spring, and considering how much of your week you already spent on Zoom sessions, I felt it was too much to ask for you to join in on those. We expect to practice outdoors this fall, and I hope you will attend. I don’t think I would want your unvaccinated little brothers there, and in some ways it would be nice for it to be just the two of us, like the old days.

Your current favorites: Minecraft, pasta, staying up late, sleeping in late, texting with your friends, going to bed with wet hair, and Honey Nut Cheerios.

I’m tired, you’re tired, but we’ve made it through the school year. Let’s take some time to rest, because before we know it, we’ll be psyching ourselves up for the next challenge. It never really ends, does it? It just changes.

I love you, and that won’t change. Happy summer, Miles.

Love,

Mom