Lots of schools were discussed. Where were we sending our girls? The four of us each have a girl in 4th or 5th grade. Middle school is coming. Fiona is probably got things sewn up at our school; Iris maybe not as well--or maybe middle school is but high school isn't: "I think she'd do so well at a big county public school," Tara lamented. That currently isn't one of our choices.
Gretchen lists the two all-girls options for Eliza. I'm confused at first--she left out several good ones--but then she explains. Those two have 7th and 8th grade and the others do not.
Zelda and Travis have probably chosen, with Bree's input, what's coming next. They're surprised at what the choice is, but Zelda sums it up: "There's a net there." And she's not talking about the basketball hoops. I completely understand. Slipping through the cracks, one way or another, is what middle schoolers do. Maybe they make it academically, but not socially. Or socially but not emotionally. Or both of those and then they flunk every core class.
You need a net.
It's a long pause in the play. Our walls are set up and we've traded around already--Charleston is what it's called. I worry about the future, but I remember that it's a day and a year at a time. Moments of choice and crisis, but it doesn't all happen at once. There are hundreds of mah jongg games between here and there.
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