Back in my day, surviving sixth grade didn’t earn you a yard sign and a catered party. It earned you a C in penmanship, a half-day of freedom, and a reminder to water the tomatoes before playing ball.
There are signs popping up all over my neighborhood. Signs for students graduating from high school. Signs for the upcoming run-off elections, and signs for graduating from grade school. Whoa, did I just say grade school? When did getting through sixth grade become a big deal? I tried to recall my transition from sixth grade to seventh grade. It was just another day in the neighborhood. I went to school. There was a lot of recess and games and at the end of day, usually a half day, we received our report cards. I opened mine right away. I wanted to see the words, “Promoted to 7th grade.” Ah, those sweet words, Then the bell rang, and I was a free kid for the summer, “No more pencils, no more books, no more teachers, dirty looks,” ran through my mind as I ran home holding on to my report card. It was my passport out of the elementary jail and into the world of the big guys.
That evening when my dad got home from work, he looked at my report card and said, “You got a C in penmanship.”
I answered, “but I got an A in math.”
My dad said, “If they can’t read what you are writing what good is that?”
I knew I wasn’t going to win this argument, and it would only get worse for me if I resisted so I nodded.
My dad said, “Make sure you water the tomato plants before you play ball.”
That was my graduation day from grade school.