What a year.
If you had asked me back in August to describe my vision for Education Plan 2020, I would have predicted two words.
Colossal catastrophe.
I was essentially making gravestones in my head to place over each of our children’s grade school years and imagining their conversations with colleagues and cohorts later in life.
“Oh, addition and subtraction? Yeah, I don’t do that thang. That was a 2020 skip-over. My mommy now balances my checkbook.”
“What, super smart college classmate, you just made a super snarky remark about international events that occurred in the 1900s that went right over my head? Not my fault, dude. World History was a 2020 wash.”
I was mentally preparing myself for my children to learn exactly zero things with four children at three schools on two different schooling plans initially attending a physical building between zero and two times per week and learning the rest of the time on Chromebooks and iPads that the kindergartner was tossing around like confetti on the day of its issue.
(Why yes, school system, I absolutely think my 7-year-old is responsible enough to possess a device that will cost me hundreds of dollars to replace when he repeatedly drops it on the tile floor and essentially uses it only to take selfies and play Starfall while his teacher is trying to read him a virtual book. Thank you for this beautiful opportunity to dump our money directly down the drain.)
What is wild to me is that our God doesn’t do total washouts.
There is no mess that can’t be made into a masterpiece in His book.
For Him, brokenness is the backdrop for beauty and wrecks, the recipe for REDEMPTION.
And in His hands, even a school year that should have been the most epic of failures, thanks to the uncompromising efforts of terrific teachers and TAs and administrators and educational volunteers, transformed before our eyes into what has become our favorite year for these four superheroes yet.
As a kiddo with multiple superpowers who hadn’t even heard a word of English for the first three and a half years of his life, Superhero 4 started the school year a bit behind his peers. He received OT, PT and speech both inside the school and out, and he struggled with sight words and sounds and letter formations and reversals. He fell asleep minutes after entering the car each day because he just didn’t have the stamina, physically or emotionally, for a full day of learning, and that sweet and spicy superhero could not social distance to save his life. (He’d already conned the teacher at pick-up to CARRY him to the car each day. By Day 2.)
But by our IEP meeting the last week of school, this superhero who has fallen in love with books and gymnastics and fun with friends has just began to THRIVE.
He was playing with playground equipment without his walker, getting around the classroom at times without canes, writing short sentences with proper letter formation and READING both 75/100 class sight words and an entire front-and-back list of short books he daily brought home.
(Watch Superhero 4 walk device-free through the grocery store: https://youtu.be/5PxSwToP6XY.)
He’d developed beautiful relationships with classmates he talked about incessantly at home, and he and his hilarious sense of humor had won over about every human in the school.
What’s more, by the last day of school, thanks to the most incredible teaching team and a whole slew of professionals who poured into him all year long, HE WAS ON GRADE LEVEL IN EVERY CATEGORY … and yesterday, brought home both an animal research project he had written and illustrated himself and a report card with all 3s.
(Watch Superhero 4 read: https://youtu.be/leAS0X3IUq8.)
He still might not have a filter (if you want to know how you REALLY look in the morning, this guy is your man), but one year into elementary life, his head and heart are thriving and the source of absolute sunshine and belly-rolling laughter inside our home.
Unlike Superhero 4, Superman started the school year on the all-virtual option. In a blessing straight from God himself, he was able to continue third grade virtually with the absolute BEST teacher we just adored in second.
But a virtual setting was a STRUGGLE for this tactile learner, and by the end of the first semester, after nearly daily tears and assignments that took from 7 a.m. until 5 p.m. straight to complete for a perfectionistic superhero who uses four fingers to type what takes me five, he needed a different option. So we moved him to in-person learning. And we signed him back up for his much-missed soccer.
And how this social butterfly who loves soccer and recess and running with and learning beside friends has just blossomed.
By week two back to in-person school, he no longer asked for our help with homework, and by week three, he was completing everything, including entire spelling packets for the week, by Monday and Tuesday nights.
Because he was heading to an in-person setting where he could enjoy the social interaction he craved, he was excited for school and transformed before our eyes into this incredibly responsible kid who began setting his own alarm for reading time, diligently reading without reminding his morning devotional and packing his own lunch the night before.
He graciously (on most days) became his baby brother’s school-side Sherpa, daily delivering Superhero 4’s bag, lunchbox and canes to his kinder classroom before walking to the other side of the elementary building to his own, and this servant-hearted and sensitive sweetheart began again to SPARKLE.
A few weeks ago, he came home from school with a letter and stories about testing.
“What testing?” we asked him, knowing end of year testing was still a few weeks away.
“Oh, just AIG testing,” he replied in his trademark understated and nonchalant way.
“Wait, you’re testing for the talented and gifted program?!” we asked, completely unaware [like really attentive parents] of our most quiet and subtle child’s abilities or needs.
When his test results for the Iowa assessment came in, we opened the envelope of the boy who had STRUGGLED through his entire first semester of third grade to complete assignments that daily brought him to tears and arrays that he just didn’t understand … to see a kid who scored in the 96th national percentile in his favorite subject of math.
When we told him that our love for him was not based on test scores or performance but that we were SO incredibly proud of how hard he had obviously worked on that test, he barely head nodded his success and, in true, laid-back Superhero 4 style, simply asked if this meant he could play with his friends when he went to AIG.
It has melted my heart into a million pieces to watch our awesome and capable God move this sensitive superhero who reads me “Dad jokes” every day and still asks if we can snuggle up on the couch every night from a place of uncertainty and self-consciousness to a place of courage and confidence this year.
Although Superhero 4 and Superman adored their in-person time in school, especially in January when they were able to move back to five-days-per-week in-person instruction, Superhero 2 likely had the *best* school year.
In fact, according to him and his six best friends who joined him for a 28-hours-per-week co-op this year, it was the best year of his entire life.
Last summer, Superhero 2 and his former Odyssey of the Mind team, along with their families, formed the Juvenile Educated Fun Friends (also known as J.E.F.F.) co-op. They enrolled in all-virtual school and then, three days per week, rotated among three houses to do virtual school together.
Between four daily Google classroom meets, they took Spanish and robotics and band (Superhero 2 plays clarinet, mostly for dogs who don’t appreciate his talent) and art; they learned embryology and rocketry and higher level math and writing. They planned and executed quarterly service projects around the community, and, between writing five-paragraph essays and preparing entries for robotics competitions, they took turns giving passion presentations on their areas of interest and leading P.E. class once per week.
And of course, they played as hard as they worked, tent camping with parents together on weekends and hanging skateboards to use as swings over creeks.
Yesterday, the incredible parent volunteer who has taught these seven superheroes Spanish three days per week all year long took them on a field trip to a Mexican restaurant, where she forced them to order completely in Spanish and answer all the waiter’s questions in Espanol alone.
I was BLOWN AWAY by the abilities of these kids who had, through a parent volunteer and DuoLingo alone, essentially completed in nine months what I learned in two semesters of college Spanish. (See Superhero 2’s final Spanish video project HERE.)
In an environment where he spends 28 hours per week playing with the people he loves the most in this life (and the fellow dog lovers who were instrumental in convincing his parents to allow him to get a dog — read all about Carolina, the 1-year-old rescue who is now Alaska’s new baby sister, on our Facebook announcement HERE), and with plenty of margin for his favorite activity of tae kwon do, our loquacious and outgoing little extrovert has just flourished … and so have we.
These kids have become OUR kids, their families, some of our sweetest friends. And meeting with them three days per week has opened Tuesday and Thursday pre-class mornings for Superhero 2 and I to enjoy quality one-on-one time running both dogs two miles around the local reservoir and stopping for bacon, egg and cheese bagels each week on the way home.
(A few months ago, Superhero 2, who is my fellow feelings-and-physical-touch-lover, gave me the hugest hug and said, “When I come back home from college someday, this is what I want to do with you, Mom. Go on a run and come to OUR coffee shop together.” And then I just never let him LEAVE …)
Problematically, after getting to attend class from home in a onesie while snuggling with his dog two days per week and playing with his best friends between classes the other three, this passionate and compassionate boy has no desire to return to real school ever again.
Good thing we’re too selfish and mean to make that an option.
Although we were concerned about Superhero 1’s freshman debut in high school happening during Covid, it turns out that Covid created an introvert’s educational dream.
No touching, no talking, no standing within six feet, and study from home for most of the school year three entire days per week.
In a rare and beautiful opportunity, this responsible old man in a young man’s body had the blessing of largely stewarding his time the way he best saw fit … and in the ways that lit up this little hard worker’s heart.
So after in-person classes on Mondays and Tuesdays, he largely spent Wednesdays and Thursdays finishing all assignments and projects for the week. That opened Fridays to take the Dave Ramsey high school financial class and plenty of margin for Chinese (which is not offered at our high school) through our state’s virtual academy and youth group on the weekends.
He continued trumpet lessons, was able to sneak in two practice sessions per day instead of just one and even made time to gift lessons to a sweet beginner just learning the instrument, all of which, by the end of the year, somehow led to a first chair place in the All-District 9th/10th grade band and a fifth chair place in our state’s All-State Honors Band!
(Watch Superhero 1 perform in the Virtual All-State Honors Band Clinic here: https://youtu.be/OCgDyZtIQrs.)
Even though this servant-hearted sweetheart whose hourly mantra is, “Hey, Mom, what can I do to help?” (ANSWER: Please prepare exactly every meal I offered to bring this week that I no longer have time to make — and also wheat pumpkin apple muffins for two birthdays and a weekly Bible study, please and thank you) can be awkward and totally socially unaware, by God’s grace alone, he has also made the BEST and most BEAUTIFUL of high school friends, largely through his passions of trumpet and track.
He and his favorite running buddies joined both the cross country and track teams, where ALL of them have just soared this school year.
In an incredible feat that no Theis gene ever saw coming, this more-hardworking-than-naturally-talented runner made the varsity cross country team with a season PR of 17:03, won the Cross Country Rookie of the Year award and, by the last conference track meet last week, secured PRs of 10:13 in the 3200 and 4:48 in the mile.
The best part?
Watching the sweetest and most supportive high schoolers I’ve ever seen constantly and relentlessly spurring one another on, no matter their times, no matter their talents, no matter their personal bests in this running life.
Getting the privilege of developing relationships with these kind, caring, compassionate high schoolers is absolutely one of my very favorite things about big kid life. They are amazing, and I tell Superhero 1 all the time that of all the judgement calls he’s made thus far, his choice in friends is among the best.
This diligent and dedicated superhero finished up his freshman year last week, and he’ll tie up this Covid-delayed track season this month. And then I’ll have a sophomore on my hands … and I’m pretty sure I’m just going to cry.
Years ago, when Super-Spouse was deployed and little kid days were long and exhausting and I wondered if I would ever live long enough to see a superhero land in high school (and wipe his own batooty), a wise woman once whispered in my ear, “The days are long, honey, but the years — they are short.”
These days, they seem to just screech by.
I have three to four summers left with this truly special superhero (who is already 25 driving hours into his learner’s permit!). Depending on his post-high school plans, possibly more.
But I don’t want to waste a single second of this summer documenting life with these four super sweet superheroes when I could instead be LIVING it.
So I’m breaking from the blog and the Facebook page for the summer so I can train more eyes on superheroes than on screens.
God willing, I’ll be back next fall when four superheroes will supposedly be in full-time, non-Covid-restricted school.
Until then, I’ll be fighting for presence with the five people who mean the most to me in this life and incessantly thanking God for these precious, priceless gifts.
