Superkinder

louuniformYesterday Supergirl bounded into her new life: that of an elementary school kid.  She’s now a full fledged kindergartner and never has there been a girl more ready to fly.  I keep watching for signs of insecurity, chinks in her armor.  I don’t want her to feel like she has to keep a stiff upper lip.  I want her to know it’s o.k. to be scared, o.k. to be nervous at least.  Despite my hovering and searching looks and leading questions, I just see a girl powering through, happy to be out there and ready for it all.  I’m not sure how she got to be this way.  I certainly wasn’t like that, which, I think, is why I have a hard time accepting that she’s just that confident.  

I was as anxious and butterfly-bellied as could be on the first day of school.  I had long, long hair which I wore in a barrette on the top of my head.  Only my mother could put the barrette in, or so I believed, because my hair was so thick and heavy and the barrette was too small.  I lived in fear that the barrette would spring open leaving me to survive the rest of my day as a little Latina Cousin It.  Tallish and knock-kneed,  I remember being afraid of the big kids, afraid of the special-ed kids, afraid of riding the bus, afraid of dropping my tray in the cafeteria.  I had a pair of light blue polyester slacks that had a gum stain on the butt and standing for the Pledge of Allegiance was a torture for me.  All for naught, it turns out because no one really picked on me.  I was more likely to be ignored than bullied.  

To this day, one of the most stressful experiences I can remember was spilling Love’s Baby Soft in my desk at Shroeder Elementary.  I remember taking off my socks to soak it up, but the smell, nothing could stop the smell. It was like I had released a genie shrouded in cloying pink fumes and I couldn’t get it back in the bottle.  I was in a cold sweat – my teeth literally chattering.  Mrs. Watson was my teacher and she never noticed – at least I don’t think she did.  Supergirl would never bother to take Love’s Baby Soft to school.  And if she did, and if it spilled, I think she would raise her hand and tell her teacher.  Simple as that.  What was Loves Baby Soft anyway?  A perfume?  Probably a body splash – those were big in those days.  Remember Jean Naté? Friction Pour le Bain!

Another mom sidled up to me after school yesterday with a concerned look on her face and told me that she had been at recess and Supergirl had had a moment of being a “little upset” and had told her she wanted to call me and come home.  I was surprised, but I was all over it, ready to listen, soothe and assuage like only a recovering Nervous-Nellie can.  Later, after the celebratory first day of school Dairy Queen stop, as I gently tried to prod some detail out of Supergirl, the only thing I got was her quick and snappy version of the story:

“I was bored because we couldn’t play on the monkey bars because it was the first graders’ turn, and we were only allowed to play on the driveway and that’s, like, sooooo boring, so I wanted to come home.”

Sounds about right.

Supergirl, may you always run faster than the worries and fretting and don’t turn around – take it from me, you’re better off without them. 

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