Picture about 30 kids sitting on benches outside. One by one they run through an obstacle course that includes benches, a jump rope, a hoolahoop, some climing, digging sand, throwing and catching a ball, that sort of thing. The first boy goes and does a creditable job. The entire course takes several minutes. Then the next child. Then the next. A hot sun. A smattering of polite clapping.
I've had high school on the brain lately and found myself picturing these 5- and 6-year-olds in high school. I could see it all: The jock. The dork. The fattie. The spaz. The rich bitch. The gawky girl. The cheerleader. The undersized hottie. The class clown. The normal kid. The good egg. And K, who is not so easy for me to place, although if I had to I'd say she's mostly normal, a little gawky and definitely a good egg.
Kind of like me.
K went toward the end, which turned out to be a good thing since my seat was stolen by another mommy the second I stood up to watch her do her stuff. She performed each task adequately, without embarassment, distinction or flair. Unlike the girl right before her who stopped and waived at the audience after each step. Or the skinny little boy who tripped over his own feet. Or the chubby little girl that someone had unkindly dressed in dirty white spandex shorts.
K was surprisingly good at hoolahoop. I myself was school hoolahoop champion by the age of 8 so it would appear that there is a hoolahoop gene.
All in all K didn't seem to take the obstacle course too seriously. She went through the motions and waited for refreshments to be offered.
A lot like me, really.