The Eight-Ball

This past Friday night was the eighth-grade dance, known to all at South County Middle School as the "Eight-Ball," which I always thought was a very clever name for it, having once been an eighth-grade boy at a dance and feeling very, very much behind the eight-ball when it came right down to it.

Here are some pictures of our Sarah and her friends getting ready for the dance.

Our beautiful young lady descending the stairs. Sharp eyes will note the broken finger on the left hand...

Saying goodbye to Fergie, who, on the whole, really wasn't impressed.

Preparing to board her coach for the ball. Note the footwear: in her words, "I'm going to dance, and I'm going to be comfortable." She commented afterward that within 15 minutes, there was a huge pile of heels by the side of the cafeteria, and there she was, still comfy.

Before the ball, one of Sarah's friends hosted a pre-party for everyone; there were over 20 kids there getting ready for the night.

Sarah and a few of her closest friends before the ball.

The ladies of SCMS eighth grade before the ball.

I'd like to report that she had a beautiful time at the ball, but she and her friends lasted all of an hour there before returning to the house of the pre-party. Reports are that the dance was in the cafeteria, with the full lights up brightly, and the DJ playing goofy music like the "Dora the Explorer" theme and the Chicken Dance. Not at all what a sophisticated group of young ladies wished to have for their evening. And as there were no sightings of any princes along with my princess, well, I'm fine with that too. But somehow I don't think this will be the last set of pictures like this in the next four years, as our young lady continues to grow and blossom.

The Next Adventure: Driving

As I've said before, the theme of this year is "adolescence," and one of the most significant adolescent rites of passage is learning to drive. We've now begun that phase of life, with David passing his learner's permit test last week, so there is now a new driver in the Commonwealth of Virginia.

I took him by on Tuesday in the early afternoon, and the Lorton DMV station was practically empty. He was immediately called up to the window, and began the initial processing, including the charming DMV photo. After a brief wait, he was called up to go on in to the computer testing lab, and my waiting began.

There was another boy there, who was called into the testing room moments after David. The minutes ticked by, and I have to confess, I didn't look to see how long it was--maybe five minutes? But it felt much longer. Then the other boy emerged, beaming--but not David, not yet. He took a little while longer, then I saw him come out, trying to motion me over as cooly and nonchalantly as possible, but I knew, just knew, that he had passed it--he couldn't hold it in, he was so happy.

I told him how proud I was of him, and after collecting the final paperwork, headed out. He refused to take a celebratory photo outside the DMV, naturally. We then headed home.

Entering our neighborhood, I drove up about a block and a half, so we would be pretty much alone, and pulled to the curb. "Switch with me," I said, and he did, to drive the last block and a half home. He learned in a hurry that it doesn't take a lot of pressure on the accelerator to make a car go, nor does it take a lot of pressure on the brake to make it stop. But he stopped at the stop sign well, and he drove right down the center of the street, making doubly sure he wouldn't hit anything. We turned onto our street, and he spotted neighbor Mark's car parked on the street next to our driveway.

"I'm gonna hit him," he said, and instead from an abundance of caution came to a stop at the entrance to the cul-de-sac proper. I told him he needed just to turn into the driveway, but he took the long way around the cul-de-sac, avoiding hitting anything except the brake pedal in the driveway, leaving two very short skid marks on the blacktop.

Our first chance to drive, and I liked what I saw: he brought a very healthy about of fear to it. There was no bravado, instead just a very, very cautious approach to piloting a car for the first time. He wanted me, when I bragged about it on social media, to use #beafraid or #beveryafraid to describe the fact that he was now on the road. But y'know, I won't. We have a lot to do over the next 45 hours of driving together, but if he can keep that healthy respect for what he's embarked upon, then I think people won't have anything to be afraid about when he's behind the wheel. If anything, the fear I have is more the fear of the idiots out there driving in NoVA who pose the greater risk to him. And so as I posted on Facebook, "To my son, I am very proud of you, and I look forward to this new adventure. To all the yutzes driving badly in NoVA, I love my boy, and if you hurt him I shall hurt you. That is all."

Off To A Solid Start

Congratulations to Sarah, who finished seventh grade with a great, strong kick: for her first time ever, her quarter report card was "straight As"!  (Her previous close call was Q3 of fifth grade; the only "B" then was in music.  Music!  Come ON!)

After a rocky start to the year in Algebra I and science, Sarah really buckled down and worked tremendously hard in order to improve her grades, and her hard work was justly rewarded with her first set of straight As this quarter.  In fact, only a "B+" in science kept her from straight As in final year-end grades as well.

Sarah with her Q3 Honor Roll certificate: a proud, accomplished scholar!

Sarah has really blossomed this year; seventh grade was a great experience for her.  And scarily enough, her A- final grade, and Pass Advanced on her SOL, in Algebra I Honors means she starts 8th grade with one of her requirements for high school graduation already neatly in the bag, and (with the bump for taking an honors class) she starts 8th grade with a 4.2 GPA…yes, higher than Dad's, although Dad will quickly point out South Burlington didn't offer bonus points for honors or AP classes.

This…is an amazing Sarah.  She works so very hard at schoolwork, and is reaping the benefits now.  She'll be able to write her own ticket to so many great adventures as a result, and it'll be a pleasure watching to see where those adventures take her.  For now, though, we give her warm congratulations, and hugs from a proud Mom and Dad, on her excellent 7th grade year.

Stepping Out, First Onto A Limb...

This Saturday, one of my children took a first, and big, step into the world of dating.  To avoid embarrassment, I won't name him, apart from saying he is an "avid" fan of the Patriots' "D."

But seriously: he had come to know this young lady through the youth group at church, and over the last few months had developed a pretty serious texting relationship.  (Fortunately texting is on the unlimited plan for us.)  They're both sophomores, although attending two different high schools; his South County green and blue clashes a bit with her West Springfield orange and blue.  But they're both in youth group and church, they both are active behind the scenes in their respective drama departments, and I would have to be even denser than I already am to miss how they look at each other sometimes.

This weekend, though, he made a big step, one reportedly required in her family, and asked her father for permission to date his oldest daughter.  Mind you, that entailed asking a Fairfax County Deputy Sheriff--and a very healthy and fit one at that, think Mr Clean with a weapon--in public, outside church, with any number of witnesses to a potential embarrassment.  Fortunately, however, her dad was quick to offer his approval; having known David now several years and figuring someone from youth group can't be all bad, I suppose.  His bravery earned him a handshake from dad, and a hug from the daughter.  And now we begin thinking of movies or events, and saving up our (non-Costa-Rica-mission-trip-spending-money) cash for a new set of activities in our world.

I had begun this year saying how the theme for the year seems to be adolescence; I smile a little thinking how one more bit of adolescence is coming to pass.  And so let a whole 'nother set of games begin….

Senior Patrol Leader

When I was in Boy Scouts, back when dinosaurs roamed the savannah plains, I was awkward, not beloved, and so never even got elected to Patrol Leader; I remember being upset at not being named an Assistant Patrol Leader even.  The Senior Patrol Leader, the SPL, the chief Scout--that, I knew, was never to be me.  More likely John Hagen or one of the other really good Scouts.  I'm sure that fed into my decision to step out of Scouting as a freshman, having made only First Class.

Last Monday, when picking up David (the Life Scout) from his Troop meeting, he announced he'd thrown his name into contention to be SPL for his Troop at their elections.  He was one of four candidates, including his best-friend John; the top vote getter this week would be SPL, and the #s 2 and 3 would be Assistant SPLs; the fourth-place finisher was out of a job.  I remember being a little cautious: after all, his attendance over the fall hadn't been stellar, would folks want to elect him if his commitment wasn't there?

This week, he climbed into the car and said he had one of the jobs, but didn't know which yet.  They announced one boy had lost, but since the Scoutmaster himself wasn't there, they were going to let Mr Sciacca announce the name when he returned.  I was relieved; at least he wasn't fourth.  On the strength of that alone, we got Dairy Queen for the family on the way home, to celebrate.

Tuesday morning came the e-mail from Mr Sciacca: David had won.  He will be responsible for leading his Troop of 90-some Scouts, including welcoming this year's crop of Brownseas as the new boys rise from Cub Scouts in the later winter.  His pride was palpable last night.  When I came home, he came upstairs without being called, to show me the message from Mr Sciacca.  We hugged and I told him how happy I was and proud I was.

He immediately started settling into his new role.  Mr Sciacca said there were two boys who needed staff jobs; David jumped right in and gave them each a call to offer them the job.  He's started thinking of meetings he can have, and activities to do, and how he wants to go to each of the Cub Scout crossing-over ceremonies to welcome his new Scouts personally.  If he can keep up this level of commitment, I think he'll do a great job.

I'm beginning to see a theme for the year--the meaning of adolescence, the one-foot-in-one-foot-out aspect of this stage of life.  Here he is, honored and elected and chosen by his Troop as the one they want to see him as a leader for the next six months; here I am awash in pride for what he's been able to earn, in terms of respect and trust, over the past nearly five years in the Troop.  And in the next minute, as we try to salvage the wreckage of homework and prepare for the Geometry midterm today (oy…), we see the, um, still-developing nature of his maturity.  I suppose I had my own similar stage.  I suppose his sister will have hers, in her own unique way.

Today, though, is all about David and the honor he's achieved.  This coming Monday he goes to a merit badge day to earn two more of the last badges he needs for Eagle; at the winter court of honor he could earn as many as four of them, leaving only two to go (one of which he's in the middle of).  This could be a truly great year for him; I hope and pray the one-foot-in nature prevails.

Maturing Pride

Over the summer, when we replaced the carpet in the house, David laid claim to the computer desk that had been in the study; we moved it into his room in place of the one he'd had from Mary from when she was a girl.  As summer ended, we helped him clear it off and make a study spot for him in his room, so he had a place (other than in front of the Xbox) to do homework.

I am shocked to report that for the first two weeks, it has worked!

David's laptop and AP World History texts live up there, and each night we see signs that he's using them both--and taking notes, and writing, and reading.  He seems to have started the year by making a conscious, concerted effort to tend to his homework.

Moreover, he has volunteered (!) to give up several of his Saturdays for a project, organized through the school, called "Capturing the Voices of WWII."  He and some of his friends will be trained, then spend their days at the World War II memorial downtown conducting oral history interviews of surviving WWII veterans who come to the memorial.  He is really looking forward to an opportunity to capture the voices, and video, of the last survivors of the Greatest Generation--conducting interviews, learning their stories, and capturing them for the ages to come, so others can remember the sacrifices they made and what it was like to serve 70 years ago in the hell of WWII.

The boy is maturing.  He is more willing than ever before to set aside the immediate pleasures and to think of his responsibilities, and of something larger than himself. Oh, sure, we have our moments of teenage attitude, but on the whole, this has been a tremendous start to his sophomore year.  He is maturing, and he is taking pride in his work and in what he can bring to the world.

And as a father I find myself experiencing my own maturing pride in the young man he is becoming.  I can probably count on one hand the number of times my dad said he was proud of me.  In looking at these first couple of weeks of school, I can see multiple reasons for pride in my son, and it reminds me of the need to let him know how proud I am of the man he's emerging into.