She Crosses

Since September, I've been working on rebuilding a bridge.

A figurative bridge, it feels as real as any made of steel and brick and mortar.

But it's really a plan of action held together by communication.

For six years, my daughter has attended a school that we love, and she has been taught by capable, intelligent, loving teachers. But in early fall, it became clear that the time had come for her to move on.

Rather than simply pushing her out the door, my daughter's teachers and I worked out a plan for where she should go next, and for how to keep her appropriately challenged in the interim. We were not governed by legal documents -- rather, we were motivated by an earnestness to do do right by this child whom we all knew and loved so well. So we got together, talked about what we should do and could do, and decided on a plan through mutual agreement. Then we just did it.

In the meantime, I contacted the appropriate personnel at her future new school. Guided by legal requirements, formal meetings, and paperwork, we would develop a new plan for my daughter. But one member of the team and I had "had words" a year ago, and neither of us forgot it, though we did our best to set it aside. I resented the process, the formality and legality of the whole thing. Why couldn't we just take a look at this child, agree on what was best for her, put a plan into action, and then tweak it as necessary? I liked the warm, friendly, old way of doing things, and I didn't really want any part of this new, colder negotiation with (who I perceived as) one adversary and several strangers.

But for her sake, I proceeded.

Through the fall, we began rebuilding our educational relationship. In the winter, we began the long stretch from the firm foundations erected solidly on each side of the schism, with the intention of meeting somewhere in the middle.

As we reached across the expanse, it became clear that our bridge would not be the usual straight, smooth type. No, ours had zig-zags, temporary roadblocks, bumps, and dips. Some sections were smooth as glass. Others were pebbly and rough. Our bridge was completed way past the deadline.

By the end of last week, however, we'd finished. I'd done my part to rebuild a bridge that had been smoldering amid hard feelings, stubbornness, and frustration (mainly mine). With the completed bridge, we now had an understanding and a path to follow.

On Tuesday, my daughter took her first step on that bridge we built her. After just one hesitant step and a glance back, she proceeded to skip across!

Without her twin, without her parents beside her, she crossed it alone. She's on the other side now, and loves it there. And now that I know the people better on the other side, the ones whose hands my daughter is in for 7 hours a day, I couldn't be happier. These are good, kind teachers. They like my daughter and they want to see her succeed. They have gone out of their way to make her and me feel comfortable.

To my daughter: Anything for you, my love! This is my gift to you.