Teacher assignment letters have arrived ...

Last year when Little Chickadee got her first-grade teacher assignment letter, she cried. We handed her the letter to read and she cried, then said, with a very determined voice and look: "You're homeschooling me."

This year went better.

THIS year, the teacher who she was hoping would move along with her to first grade ended up this year skipping up from kindergarten to second grade. Little (ok, not so little) Chickadee is ecastatic beyond belief. Life is fabulous. The letter is a blessing. She's jumping up and down. This will be the best year ever. Yada yada yada. I get it. She's excited. And we're very happy ... as we've been lucky to get fabulous Tacoma teachers across the board so far. I don't know what I'll do when my winning streak hits a bump.

(Side note: Little Chickadee ended up loving her first-grade teacher, too. But for awhile there, we were fearful. But the second she met the first-grade teacher -- blonde and pretty and sweet and new *sigh, really?* -- she was in love. Mind you, first-grade teacher was a GOOD teacher, too ... but sheesh, my darling girl, "pretty" is not a teacher qualifier.)

The Boy enters public school this year, and has been awarded the same class as his best, best, bestest buddy from preschool. Did I mention best, best, BESTest buddy?!?!?!? This should be a good thing. And it likely will be. I'm just worried those two giggle-butts will distract each other.

Luckily those two giggle-butt buddy boys get one of Tacoma's rarities: A male kindergarten teacher. A pretty damn good one at that. This dude has been a legend, and the reason many folks tried to talk me into putting Little Chickadee into full-day kindergarten back when there was a choice. We didn't, and she did fabulously in the half-day. (Mind you: I'm am not advocating for one over the other. The darling would have adjusted within the month had she been in full-day, but we did have the choice and the flexibility at the time, so we took it and stuck with half-day. With the boy: Thank God they have free full-day now.)

Oh, and I think The Boy can read and has been hiding it. When reading clicked for Little Chickadee there was no doubt. She'd shout out every sign we drove by. Every thing that went in front of her face. She read every word that flew by. Not so with The Boy. I suspect he can read, in part because I know his preschool rocks, and we've been working on it bits and pieces too -- but I wasn't at home during his prime learning-to-read years, as I was with his sis. But he'll randomly read words like "Kuwait." Seriously. I don't know if I was online or reading the paper, but he looked over my shoulder and clumsily said "Kuwait." (And with that word, there's not much option but clumsy.) And then today, when I handed him his teacher letter, not thinking he could read it that well, well ... within a few minutes he was jumping up and down asking if he could go to the start-of-school BBQ. It made me start ... where did he hear about that? I hadn't mentioned it ... I hadn't heard Little Chickadee mention it ... and it was definitely in the letter. Did he READ it?

You see, when queried, he gets quiet. He's tricky. He won't read the words that I ask him to try to read. (Except occasionally.) But I think he trickily can read a LOT LOT LOT more than I think he can. And luckily, he has a teacher I know will push him. And a buddy with whom I hope they'll push each other. And I think I'll soon discover that that boy can read a freakin' ton more than I realize he can.

Sweet.

Oh, and since Baby Girl has been asking about HER letter and HER teacher -- despite the fact that they don't give letters for preschool -- I will share that the little one starts preschool this year, the same place her siblings went before her. She's been anticipating it for ages. She's so ready. And I know she'll have a great time. But it's SO WEIRD that they'll all -- finally -- be "of age." Well, the first "of age" notes in a long list of such mentions. And in two years, they'll all actually be in the same school for two whole years. Weird.

Bring it on.