Good News

We received good news about Hardy on Saturday. That was the day we received a thick envelope from the Murfreesboro City Schools, informing us that Hardy had been invited to attend the Discovery School. After we got over our shock, we returned the form indicating that he will attend next year.

We originally applied Hardy to that school due its superior location for us. It is right off campus, on the side of campus where Justin has his office. He could walk to the Discovery School in ten minutes if he wanted a leisurely stroll. With next year up in the air as far as my graduate school plans, we definitely wanted Hardy in a nearby school if possible.

When we applied, I was a bit hesitant at first. The first concern was whether we should put Hardy through the testing process. I think he is wonderful but that does not mean that he is gifted or talented. I have no ability to evaluate my child in an unbiased manner. Why should we test him (2 different tests) if we aren't sure he will get in. And how can you really tell if a 4 or 5 year old is ready for a high achieving school? What do we do if he doesn't get in? Is it right to pull him from his zoned school? One of my concerns about the Discovery School is that is not very diverse, and I do want my child to mix with as many people as possible. I finally decided that I could not let my hang-ups influence my child's education; I had to take myself out of the equation and do everything possible to get him the best possible education.

Now that Hardy knows the school he will be attending, he is ready to start kindergarten. He has started pestering me about when we are going to buy him his own desk and where will he do his homework at. He has started doing "kindergarten work" during some of his play; he sits at his Lightening McQueen table and works on letters very diligently. While he is raring to start, now that the time is rapidly approaching, I find myself feeling a bit emotional. I have a hard time fathoming my son is about to start kindergarten in a matter of months. Sometimes when I look at him I still see the skinny little wrinkly baby I brought home from the hospital. I wonder where all the time has gone. But that is a post for another day.

Thin Envelope

Today I received the thin envelope from Vanderbilt. I am denied entrance into their program; the letter stated the standard "we received more applications than normal so had to turn down qualified applicants." It is fairly cold comfort.

Despite knowing the program only admits 10-12 students a year, I felt I had a good shot at Vanderbilt. I had excellent GRE scores (a 6 out of 6 on the written portion and 740 on the verbal, which was the 99th percentile) as well as a good undergraduate GPA (3.83) and a GPA of 3.95 in my major.

Intellectually I understand why I would not be a good candidate for Vanderbilt. I am an "older" student. I do not already possess a master's degree, although that is not a requirement for admission. I did not attend a prestigious undergraduate institution. I can't help but admit that it stings.

Growing up, my parents have always cheered for the Vanderbilt basketball and football teams. My dad has been a fan since the 1950s. They have supported the "hometown team" (although more Nashvillians support UT athletics than Vanderbilt) for decades. They raised my the same way. I cheered for the teams during decades of losing seasons. Part of why I wanted to attend was to make my parents proud. Although they will never say it, I feel that I let them, and my husband, down.

I am trying to believe that this is not terrible and that it does not mean that I will be denied admission to MTSU. In some ways it will make life easier if I attend graduate school at MTSU. There will be no commute. I will probably be able to maintain some sort of involvement with Hardy's school. We may be able to swing my class schedule so that we won't need after school care for Hardy. The Public History program at MTSU is good, and there is a professor (or two) that I have wanted to take classes from. I am trying to look on the bright side of things, and trying to resist curling into the fetal position.

It is hard to believe that even at my advanced age of 34 that the appearance of the thin envelope (or email, in this case) can be so upsetting. I have a lot of empathy right now for all the high school seniors awaiting their envelopes.

Cupcakes

I signed up last week to bring the dessert to Hardy's preschool Valentine's Day party. I had no idea that this decision would lead me to a solid week of internal wrestling over dessert and its hidden meaning.



The reason I signed up for dessert is that I love to bake. It is something that brings me great joy. There is an indescribable feeling from amalgamating disparate ingredients that are not all yummy (such as flour or salt) and getting an end result that is delicious (yum, brownies). And for me, it has to be totally from scratch. I do not receive the same joy from using a mix or from using store-bought cookie dough. When I make these products, it doesn't feel that the end result belongs to me. Anyone could have made the cake or cookies. They don't speak of me or my likes. It is an impersonal product. They do not speak the same volumes of love to me. Or perhaps I am crazy in that my baked goods seem to have voices and speak to me.

Once I signed up, I dithered over what to make. I had not baked in awhile, so everything I could think of sounded wonderful. I contemplated cut-out cookies, cookies on sticks, candy, mini pies, and cakes before deciding upon cupcakes. If you are a kid, cupcakes are the ultimate dessert. They are individual sizes, have frosting and delicious sprinkles.

Once I decided what to make, I proceeded to make my cupcakes from scratch, mixing up buttercream frosting, decorating the cakes with Hershey kisses and sprinkles. I was glowing as I baked, feeling like supermom for making such clearly superior cupcakes. True, they looked nothing like what Martha would create, but they were homemade and showed lots of love (which is code for they were not decorated by a professional). I boxed them and delivered them to school on Thursday.

While at the party that day, watching the kids eat my delicious creations, I was bowled over by an epiphany. I watched the kids licking the frosting, eating the sprinkles and realized that not a single one of them cared what kind of dessert they were having. The important thing was the party, the time they were spending together, the knowledge that boxes full of Valentine cards and candy awaited them in the hallway. The cupcakes were nice, but they could have been any dessert. The important thing was the experience, the party itself.

I realized that I can get hung up on the details that do not matter at times. Hardy does not care that I made homemade cupcakes. He cared that I sat down with him after the party, patiently reading all his cards to him and exclaiming with him over his candy. He cares that I spend time with him, doing nothing or building a Leggo house or watching Garfield. All the extras do not matter. What matters is our time together.

After this realization I am no longer feeling guilty about wanting to go to grad school in the fall. I trust that Ellie and Hardy both will feel loved and cherished still, as long as I make the effort to do the things that matter to them. Even if it seems silly to me. So I foresee more time playing chase and monster, playing tickle fingers and reading books, and less time stressing over the perfect dessert with the most heartfelt subtext.

An Interesting Life

An interesting person recently died here in Murfreesboro, a person that I regret I never had the chance of meeting. I've read about him a few times since we moved to town, and each time I am struck anew by what his life must have been like.

Mr. Willie Henry Brandon died on January 4, 2010. He was 103 years old. Stop for just a moment and reflect on that. He lived 103 years. Imagine all the things this man witnessed over the course of his life. Widespread (and now ubiquitous) electrification. The PC and the internet. The sinking of the Titanic. World War I, World War II, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, both Iraq wars. Women's Suffrage and the Voting Rights Act of 1964. When he was born, Russia was ruled by a czar and large swaths of Africa were ruled by colonial, imperialistic governments. Theodore Roosevelt was president on the day of his birth. He was alive for the devastating 1913 tornado in Murfreesboro that destroyed downtown and for the 2009 Good Friday tornadoes that struck our city.

One fact about Mr. Brandon that I've learned from the various stories on his life is that his grandfather was sold as a slave on the Rutherford County Courthouse steps. This is the fact that I keep thinking over. There lives (until recently) a man whose grandfather was a slave and sold on our courthouse steps. What were Mr. Brandon's thoughts as he passed the Courthouse? What did he think when he started working as the Courthouse janitor at the age of 72? Did he reflect on the fact that he was now caring for a property that had witnessed such events as slavery?

Another fact that intrigues me about Mr. Brandon is that he lived a very long portion of his life (over half) dealing with the effects of Jim Crow. The very courthouse that he cared for so faithfully until he was 102 was once home to segregated water fountains and toilets. He was unable to vote until he was almost sixty. Can you imagine living over half your life with society (or at least white society) telling you that you were inferior simply due to the color of your skin? Being sent to a separate school than your neighbors? Having to leave Rutherford County in 1918 with your family to go to Illinois in the hopes of actually being able to earn a living?

I wish I had gotten the chance to meet this man. Over the course of his life he worked for a variety of Rutherford County institutions - as a cook for the Polk Hotel (site of the Suntrust Bank on Main Street now), as a cook for the City Cafe (still open on Main Street), as a cook at the Smyrna Air Force Base (closed many decades ago), at the Po Folks on Broad (also closed many years ago), and at the Courthouse, where he began his last career at the age of 72. He worked for the Courthouse until last year at the age of 102 when he could no longer work.

I find Mr. Brandon's life fascinating for many reasons. For the length of his life and the historic events he witnessed. For the hard work he performed in supporting his family. For his faithful care of the Courthouse, a landmark I try to drive past as often as possible. He sounds like a man who did what he had to do to support his family. I hope that when I die that others can say the same of me.


**I am indebted for information from The Murfreesboro Post and from http://www.rutherfordcountytn.gov/brandon/index.html for information regarding Mr. Brandon's life.**