Starting Sixth Grade
A new school year started last week, the day after Labor Day. This was the first day of sixth grade. My little love finds transitions very hard. He has been dreading this day, and we’re all trying to support him through it.
Asher is clever, kind, smart, empathetic, sensitive, loving, funny, and brave. He may not seem brave when you see his sad face, but this is evidence of his courage: He suits up and faces his fear and deep discomfort. I have tremendous faith in him and his abilities. I am so very proud of this boy. I love him. I grok him.
The first day went OK, in part because it was a half-day. Over the next three school days he gradually got used to it again. His nervousness manifested in early rising and he was getting ready and making his lunch long before it was time to go to school. He is cautiously optimistic about his new class teacher, and sad to see his movement teacher go.
I told him that there would be a few days of discomfort, and those feelings are big and real and valid. But that after a few days, that uncomfortable feeling would lessen and soon he would be all right again.
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