Elisa's Journal

Unbelievable. My 4th oldest son is headed for middle school next year. Of course, his being in 5th grade, this should come as no surprise, but I have been the ol' ostrich (why the heck isn't that spelled "ostrige," I'll never know.) with its head buried in the sand. No make that concrete. Lukas is so innocent. He's barely getting over his obsession with rainbows, still loves "twirlies" (meaning he loves twirling around til I vomit from the spectators' stands) and believes fervently in Santa and the Tooth Fairy. On the latter, I'll have to say he's been testing the situation, trying to slip me up, but either I'm a hell of a good liar or he's alittle slow. But recently, he's talked about the visits of various middle schools to his grade school and that infamous "sex talk" that they all look forward to with delight and disgust. (When Erik was in 5th grade, he spoke about how gross sex ed was. About that same time, Michelle was in Driver's Ed. So, Lukas, after a stint in deep cerebral space, asked, "Who is this Ed guy, anyway?" Hmmm. See what I mean.

Sure he asserts himself really well, thanks to the mental kickboxing sessions he's had with four sibs, but he still may be a bully magnet on the basis of his innocent thought processes and his (and I use the term loosely) fashions (you know, same shorts and shirt 24/7 until they have their own personalities and the government sends them their own social security card.) Is "Lukas Hunting Season" just around the corner. Will he have the metaphorical target rings on his forehead after coming home the first day? Will he have "kick me, I'm a pussy" post-its on his back?

That's not the worst of it--yep, you heard me. The guy is totally disorganized. He focuses only on things that inspire him. He forgets to bring materials to class, neglects to turn in assignments, and, well, basically lives in La-La Land from the opening bell to the closing bell. He's too busy thinking about how things work, why things are, and so on. Again, trapped in deep cerebral space. So how the hell is he going to manage several classes, long term assignments, managing a student planner, and so on? His mental file cabinet has all the appearance of a paper factory in a windstorm as it is. And teachers won't baby the guy, nor should they. I guess I'll be there to help lick his wounds, but part of me wants to move away to Outer Mongolia for the next three years and return only when it's all over. Wish him (and me) luck, people!!!