2nd Grade Angst

Way back when I was in second grade, we didn't go down to the cafeteria for lunch. The lunch lady brought our trays/drinks to us. I know, it was A LONG TIME AGO.

The school I attended housed kindergarten through 12th grade. The elementary was in a separate wing from the jr./sr. high but we shared a cafeteria.

I am not a milk drinker. Never was. Can't stand the stuff. Ugh!

So I got to drink Jungle Juice when I happened to eat the lunch provided by the school. It was an orange kool-aid type drink. Not good but not nearly as bad as milk, as far as my seven year old self was concerned.

One day the lunch lady, Mrs. Fee, forgot my Jungle Juice. I'd always felt this woman thought I was a spoiled brat for not liking milk and for getting my mom to write me a note saying I didn't have to drink it. That day, I was sure she'd forgotten on purpose.

She told me if I wanted the juice, I'd have to go down to the high school cafeteria and get it myself. She didn't have time to go back down there herself. She had other lunches to deliver, she snotted at my second-grade self.

So off I went.

But I was sort of scared because I'd never been to the high school part of the school before and I wasn't sure where I was going or what I'd find. I did find the cafeteria and the Jungle Juice and headed back to my classroom.

As I walked quickly (but didn't run! I loved rules at that age and running in the halls was against the rules.) back toward the safety of the elementary wing, a wing with which I was very familiar, having spend the better part of almost three years of my life, I was accosted by three high schoolers.

Now, looking back, I realize they never touched me, they weren't in any way threatening. But the scared the shit out of little seven-year-old me.

They stood in front of me, blocking my way. They made a semi-circle and stood there, saying things like, "Ohh, she's so cute." "Look how little she is!" "I just want to take her home with me."

I was terrified. I couldn't get past them and I was sure they were going to keep me there in that hallway forever.

I don't even remember them finally letting me go but I do remember crying in bed that night, begging my mom not to make me go to school.

She kept asking me what was wrong.

I wouldn't tell her at first. I told her she'd laugh.

She persisted and so I spilled the entire story.

And...she laughed. I was horrified. She laughed at the most terrifying experience of my life.

I begged her to promise me I'd never have to go to high school.

She reassured me that by the time I was ready for the high school part of that school, I'd be five years older and much bigger than I was now.

I ended up doing just fine in that very high school.

Now, I've told this story because, well, for one thing, I'm an over-sharer and so I share, but also because last night was a parenting win for me and Alyssa.

When we got home, she announced that she was hungry.

I started to prepare food when she suddenly announced she wasn't hungry after all.

Then she told me her tummy hurt.

I asked her if she had to go to the bathroom. What? It's what we moms ask.

She said no. She said it just felt funny.

I asked if her tummy felt like she was nervous about something.

She shook her head but said, "Maybe."

Uh oh, I knew something was up.

I knelt down before her and asked her what was wrong. What had happened at school that day to make her feel bad.

She explained that during recess, she'd stayed in to finish her journal but couldn't find her journal in the pile of unfinished journals.

Through tears, she explained that first thing in the morning, the students write in their journals and she couldn't find hers and she was sure she was going to get into trouble.

I offered to write her teacher a note explaining the missing journal but she cried that sometimes a student takes all the notes to the office before the teacher reads them.

In the end, I called my boss, left a voice mail explaining that I'd be about a half hour late and when I dropped Alyssa off at school today, I went in with her and talked to her teacher.

And what do you know, the teacher had the journal because she wanted to share it with me during our conference this very evening. She was very apologetic to Alyssa for not telling her that she'd taken her journal. Alyssa cried with relief that she wasn't in trouble for having 'lost' her journal.

And...they weren't even going to be writing in their journals today.

Yet I came through for my girl. She got that I was there for her, no matter how trivial I might have thought the journal issue was, I took her seriously and helped her through her angst.

It's tough to be seven, even when you have an awesome mom.