Half n' Half

"Heeeey wait a minute." She said, hand on hip, head tilted. Her image calls to mind a cartoon character, the tiny pixie body with more hair than any one child should have swishing around just below the waistband of her cropped pants. "The language workbook says level 4, and that other book says level D which must just mean level 4, too."

"Yeah. So." I responded in mock patience, she was supposed to be studying her spelling list.

"But I should be a second grader, right?" There was a long pause as I tried to figure out what she might be getting at, tried to decide what to tell her. She pushed on, "Because I skipped first grade maybe I'm a third grader, but really I'm a second grader. These are fourth grader books! Did you know you're giving me fourth grader work?" She began giggling wildly and added "I'm seven!!"

If my daughter had a blog the theme would be: I'm smarter than my Mama. Each post would be another adventure in the life of a brilliant little girl who would rather be a boy and the traumas of growing up with a silly, crazy, and hopelessly foolish mama.

"Do you feel the work is too challenging?" I asked her.

"No!"

"Well, then let's not worry what number is on the text book, let's just make sure you're learning, okay?" She nodded but she wasn't satisfied yet.

"But, what grade am I in?"

"It's really not important what grade a person is in. Schools have so many students they have to find a way to divide them up, that's the only reason they even have grades."  I looked her in the eye "It's not some kind of competition or prize, you know. It's just a way to find challenging material to learn about at a level you can understand." I paused again, finally realizing there would be no way around this, and there was no guarantee she was going to get the message I wanted, anyway. She loves points as much as I do. "You have some course work that was designed for third graders and some that would normally be for fourth graders."

"Can I tell The Man?" she asked excitedly.

"Yeah." I said. She dashed into the house, shouting loudly.

"Daddy! I'm half third grader and half fourth grader!"

"Whoaaa!" The man exclaimed. "Which half is the fourth grader?" He flipped her upside down, shaking her a little. "Don't worry! I'll get that fourth grader out of you!"

"DADDY!!" she squealed and sputtered with laughter. "NOOOooooOO! Not like thaaat!"

It was good to hear that there's still plenty of second grader in there.