ENJOYING FIRST GRADE AGAIN

MAY 15, 2023 – For a half hour today, I slowed down the merry-go-round and savored time with our first grade granddaughter. It was my turn to pick up Illiana from school, and when she slipped into the car, she asked if we could go to a playground.

“Sure,” I said. “Which one?”

“How about the school playground?” she said. “We’re allowed to play there after school as long as a parent or guardian is with us.” She sure knows the rules—and can repeat them verbatim.

“That’s convenient,” I said, as I pulled into a parking slot a few feet ahead of the school exit.

The playground is around back, and with Illiana in the lead, we found a couple dozen kids at play in the warm, late afternoon sun. Judging by the three or four late-teen/early 20s supervisors wearing name-tag lanyards, I surmised that all the kids were part of an after-school program. Illiana seemed to be the only free-lancer.

When we drew closer to the swing section, a school acquaintance called out Illiana’s name. Illiana ran over, and the two hugged each other. The other girl was quite a bit bigger than “Li’l Illi” and lifted her right off her feet. How nice that a girl several years older would be willing to hang out with a first-grader, I thought. It turned out the other girl was a first-grader too.

The two kinda, sorta played together. For a while I’d see them climbing the same rope-net, side by side, but then they’d go off in opposite directions and play wholly independently of each other. Next thing I knew, they were back to the slide area, trying to navigate their way up the slide like peas being squeezed along a pod.

I stood off to the side, observing kids happily engaged learning social skills. With limited success, I put my own concerns and anxieties aside and found happiness in the carefree spirit of those children.

All this time, I’d been holding a collection of story books that Illiana had handed me as she’d alighted from the car. I recalled the days 20, 25 years ago when I’d served as coatrack and bookshelf for Illiana’s dad and uncle. “Here, Dad. Hold these,” they’d say, as they piled their schoolbooks and overcoats into my hands while I gabbed with another parent after soccer or basketball practice and the boys joined their friends for a few more goal kicks or free throws.

Eventually, Illiana returned for her books. She then carried them off in search of her friend, who was now on the monkey-bars, then—uh!—back to the slide, now on to the climbing rig. Illiana got plenty of exercise playing catch-up. I was amused by the scene, especially since Illiana was the only kid in sight who was running around with a set of books.

In time, she caught up with her friend long enough to ask if she “wanted to read.” The friend acquiesced, and a moment later the two first-graders were seated on a grassy incline in the shade on the outskirts of the play equipment area. After presenting her friend with some choices, Illiana handed the girl a Cat and Cat book, while Illiana opened another of the same series. I stood a little ways off to the side to observe the proceedings.

“Okay, now you read a page from your book, and I’ll read a page from mine,” said Illiana. It soon became apparent that if they were playing school, Illiana would have to assume the role of teacher. She kindly helped the girl with vocabulary, and to her credit, the friend showed patience—to a point: before long, the lure of the nearby playground equipment beat out the reading session.

Anyway, it was time for us to go. Once buckled in, Illiana asked, “Grandpa, when we get to your house, can we make smoothies out of watermelon and strawberries?”

“Sure,” I said, “as long as I can talk you into some bananas too.”

“Okay,” said Illiana, “as long as I can talk you into putting some whipped cream on top.”

“It’s a deal,” I said.

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© 2023 by Eric Nilsson