Mason started junior kindergarten this past week. You may be asking yourself what junior kindergarten is. Let me tell you. Junior kindergarten is basically for all 4-year-old boys who are actually old enough in the district's eyes to go to kindergarten, but their mothers know better. So they enroll in a private kindergarten with a bunch of other little brilliant but immature boys who have yet to sit still for 23 consecutive minutes.
It's the perfect option, in my opinion, for families who hope their boys will be academically challenged while preserving the spotless nature of their permanent record. It's still scary, though. No junior nerves as it turns out. Mason was so serious that morning I feared he'd toss his cheerios before we got there.
Unlike Cooper's fist day of first grade and first day of kindergarten, I was prepared and calm. Mason mechanically readied himself, got his picture taken, and walked into class. One moment of melancholy especially melted my heart. When the teacher asked him to print his name on a handwriting strip I believe Mason sent us all a message. These are generally 2-inches high and about 8 inches long. Most juniors and kindergartners take up all 2 inches as they scrawl their sprawling names as big as John Hancock. But Mason's name, both first and last, could have fit inside the width of a penny. A precise measure of how he felt that day, I think. And that makes me sad and worried for a boy with a big big heart, but a very little voice.
Dear world, listen to Mason. He is smart. He is kind. He is good. But he's not loud.