Today I filled in the last grade of my school memories book. I feel so old. But as I flipped through its pages I was reminded of the things about me that changed, and the things that stayed exactly the same. It was like taking a mini journey through some of the most important times of my life thus far. Each year has some good memories, and each year has some not so good memories. Let's take a look at where the journey begins.
Kindergarten: In a nutshell I was a nerd. Big round glasses and short statured, wearing a pair of super classy overalls. haha. I lived a pretty care-free life. I watched Arthur, Cut and Paste, and ate pizza pops (all of which I still occasionally do) We went on a field trip to the Besborough Hotel. Ironically, part of my graduation takes place in the exact same hotel.
Grade 1: I guess I was your average first grader. I still had the glasses, and was missing a front tooth. I had lots of friends and still loved Pizza Pops. What struck me the most when looking back on this page was how I viewed myself. I loved myself. I had no feelings of self-hatred and I had never struggled with the infamous body image that every teenage girl does. I was so innocent. I was learning, and I suppose you could say, preparing myself for the rest of my life.
Grade 4: This is the year when I begin to see my true character developing. I loved reading, writing and my precious piano. I excelled in english and loved laughing. I noted that my best friends in this grade are the same best friends that I have in the 12th grade, although we were hardly friends for the 8 years in between.
Grade 5: This year is this year when I began to conform to the world. I think that it's something every child does at some point, but I find that it seems hardly worth it. If only I had spent those precious middle school years concentrating on becoming who I want to be, and not who everyone else wanted me to be.
Grade 6: This was my gymnastics year. I can remember having so much self-confidence in myself. I never more beautiful than when I was spinning, flipping or balancing. It was my passion and it made me happy. I didn't care if I didn't achieve perfection, I simply desired to make myself happy.
Grade 7: The year where everything changed. This was the year when I had to start fresh. Not because I changed schools or moved, but because I realized that my childhood was slipping away from me, faster than I wanted it to. Part of me wanted to grow up, to date, to graduate, to work. But I still wanted to run home to my mom and give her a big hug. Finding true friends was overwhelming and painful. But looking back I realize that despite how painful this year was, it developed so much character and emotions that have carried me through much harder times.
Grade 8: This is the year when I had a best friend again. After a difficult year I loved having someone to have sleepovers with, to talk to and to laugh with. I found joy in the smallest of things. I was so happy. With this joy came boldness. I began to shed my shell and open up to people. It was a good year.
Grade 9: This year can be grouped with the 7th grade as my best friend moved half way across the world I had never had to say good-bye to anyone before she left and it was so hard for me. I remember the last time I saw her and hugged her. I said good-bye and was forced to go back to school without a best friend. She's moving back here in a month. I wonder if our friendship will pick up where it left off, or if we've both changed too much to rekindle a relationship on the same level it used to be at.
Grade 12: Here I am. This is me. I've developed a feisty character, but I'm still quiet. I'm still shorter than most people in my class and I still eat pizza pops. I've got best friends, favourite teachers and very special people in my life. My life goals continue to change because I"m still indecisive. I've loved. I've laughed. I've lived. I've learned. And as I'm on the verge of jumping from the safety of my childhood nest look back at all that school has taught me. It has been so much more than adding and dividing or reading and writing. It's the other bits and pieces that have moulded me and shaped me into a character that will carry me beyond my childhood and into the rest of my life.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Honey, Please Don't Grow
When I was a baby, just learning to walk, I clung desperately to my mothers arms, too afraid to let go. In her arm's I was safe, I could not fall and hurt myself, I could not fail, I could not disappoint her by toppling over into a heap of baby on the carpet. But there came a point when I had to depend on my own two feet and let go.
Going to school was an adventure. Everything began to change. I thought kindergarten was excellent because I got to paint, draw, play on the playground and invite lots of friends over to birthday parties. I remember eagerly running down the street to the school bus while holding my best friends hand. (Except of course on those early summer days when the ground was dry as a bone and my mother would make me wear rubber boots and finger mittens...than i wasn't so happy). But I was growing up. I spent 5 days a week at school, away from my family. I started to become independent and feisty, even at a young age. But my mom and dad were always there to keep me grounded. And by grounded I mean those long summer evenings spent in my bedroom sulking whilst I heard my friends playing outside. It was those days when I craved the most to be an adult. To listen to no one, to have no one hold me back and tell me what was best. I just wanted to Grow Up.
And grow up I did. As painfully slow as it often seemed, over the years I began to gain the independence I so greatly desired. Cooking Kraft Dinner without an adult present in the kitchen, going for bike rides without telling anyone (which always ended up getting me in trouble by the way), or shopping for my own clothes. I was determined to grow up. At first my endeavours ended up in failure. Messy kitchens that resulted in punishments, the shameful ride home from the park in the family car because you stayed out too late and weren't allowed to bike back home in the dark, and those darn extra-large shirts that you 'forgot' to try on in the store. I remember how frustrating it was. How stuck I felt. I thought I was ready to let go of my dependance on my family. But I wasn't. Not yet.
I remember when suddenly life became real. Almost a little too real. The realization that I was finally becoming an adult wasn't nearly as pleasant as I had hoped. I thought that growing up meant I could stay up late and eat at McDonalds everyday for lunch. It didn't take me long to realize that no bedtime meant no sleep. I began to regret those nights when I was young and would keep my parents up all night because I wasn't tired and could sleep all morning. Because now I was on the other end of things. Now I was the one slowly drifting off to sleep at 1 am, only to be awoken 5 hours later to an alarm that did not sound like mom's voice and did not tickle my feet or find me clothes to wear or brush my hair for me. If I'm tired, I wake up anyways, if I don't feel like going to work, I get dressed and drag my butt over there anyways and earn the money that I need to pay for all of the things that my parents used to buy for me. Back when my only concern was the boys at school chasing me with earthworms. Now I have to concern myself with phone bills, car payments, buying deoderant BEFORE I run out of it completely, finishing my homework without being prompted, keeping track of curfews, going to the doctor alone, making appointments, remembering appointments, feeding the cat, feeding myself.
Life is getting so real for me now and some days I can't help but imagine that I'm three years old again.That I don't have any stress or worries. That I'm safe in my mommy's arms and that I don't have to pretend to be brave. I used to want nothing more than to grow up, but now that it's happening I'm beginning to realize that with greater independence comes greater responsibility. Even though sometimes I just want to hide in the clothing racks at work until all of the people leave and when I have those mornings when I want to lie in my bed all day instead of waking up for school, I have to remind myself that this is what I wanted. This is what I asked for. So ready or not, here I grow.
Going to school was an adventure. Everything began to change. I thought kindergarten was excellent because I got to paint, draw, play on the playground and invite lots of friends over to birthday parties. I remember eagerly running down the street to the school bus while holding my best friends hand. (Except of course on those early summer days when the ground was dry as a bone and my mother would make me wear rubber boots and finger mittens...than i wasn't so happy). But I was growing up. I spent 5 days a week at school, away from my family. I started to become independent and feisty, even at a young age. But my mom and dad were always there to keep me grounded. And by grounded I mean those long summer evenings spent in my bedroom sulking whilst I heard my friends playing outside. It was those days when I craved the most to be an adult. To listen to no one, to have no one hold me back and tell me what was best. I just wanted to Grow Up.
And grow up I did. As painfully slow as it often seemed, over the years I began to gain the independence I so greatly desired. Cooking Kraft Dinner without an adult present in the kitchen, going for bike rides without telling anyone (which always ended up getting me in trouble by the way), or shopping for my own clothes. I was determined to grow up. At first my endeavours ended up in failure. Messy kitchens that resulted in punishments, the shameful ride home from the park in the family car because you stayed out too late and weren't allowed to bike back home in the dark, and those darn extra-large shirts that you 'forgot' to try on in the store. I remember how frustrating it was. How stuck I felt. I thought I was ready to let go of my dependance on my family. But I wasn't. Not yet.
I remember when suddenly life became real. Almost a little too real. The realization that I was finally becoming an adult wasn't nearly as pleasant as I had hoped. I thought that growing up meant I could stay up late and eat at McDonalds everyday for lunch. It didn't take me long to realize that no bedtime meant no sleep. I began to regret those nights when I was young and would keep my parents up all night because I wasn't tired and could sleep all morning. Because now I was on the other end of things. Now I was the one slowly drifting off to sleep at 1 am, only to be awoken 5 hours later to an alarm that did not sound like mom's voice and did not tickle my feet or find me clothes to wear or brush my hair for me. If I'm tired, I wake up anyways, if I don't feel like going to work, I get dressed and drag my butt over there anyways and earn the money that I need to pay for all of the things that my parents used to buy for me. Back when my only concern was the boys at school chasing me with earthworms. Now I have to concern myself with phone bills, car payments, buying deoderant BEFORE I run out of it completely, finishing my homework without being prompted, keeping track of curfews, going to the doctor alone, making appointments, remembering appointments, feeding the cat, feeding myself.
Life is getting so real for me now and some days I can't help but imagine that I'm three years old again.That I don't have any stress or worries. That I'm safe in my mommy's arms and that I don't have to pretend to be brave. I used to want nothing more than to grow up, but now that it's happening I'm beginning to realize that with greater independence comes greater responsibility. Even though sometimes I just want to hide in the clothing racks at work until all of the people leave and when I have those mornings when I want to lie in my bed all day instead of waking up for school, I have to remind myself that this is what I wanted. This is what I asked for. So ready or not, here I grow.
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