This year, my youngest child, Clyde, is starting fourth grade. I have to say that this has hit me rather hard—or, at least, much harder than I expected it to. Really—I didn’t realize that you could experience “empty nest” syndrome when one of your kids is still in elementary school, but, apparently, you can. Or at least I can.
I didn’t have this feeling before, when my daughter Clementine started fourth grade. But then again, that was also the same year that Clyde started kindergarten, so I was a little preoccupied. For one thing, I was hoping that between starting kindergarten and moving to a new school Clyde would finally be able to shed the nickname he had picked up during his previous five years at daycare: “Walk-Clyde-Walk.” Okay, to be honest it wasn’t exactly a nickname—it was what the other kids thought his name actually was. (This might have had something to do with the fact that whenever the teachers said his name they always needed to include the admonishment “Walk, Clyde, walk.”)
So, yeah, when Clementine started fourth grade four years ago I had other things to worry about (Walk, Clyde). I had other fish (or rather, children) to fry. (Yes, that is a fairly horrifying image, but I think you get the idea: I was busy.) But now? Now I have all the time in the world, and I’m moderately freaking out.
You’re probably thinking: what’s the big deal about fourth grade? Why not fifth, or even, now that it’s a part of the middle schools, sixth? Why freak out about fourth? I don’t know—maybe it’s because I have such clear memories of my own time in fourth grade (if you’re reading this, Mr. Williamson—hey!), but I know that fourth grade is the year that everything starts to change. I’m not saying that it’s the beginning of the end, but it is certainly the end of the beginning.
Think I’m being crazy? Think about it: fourth grade is when the characters in all our favorite books went from being the sidekicks to being the stars of the show. It’s not called Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing for nothing: Fudge may be the causative agent, but it is Peter who is the protagonist. And what about Encyclopedia Brown? And the Spiderwick twins?
I’m telling you, it all starts happening in fourth grade. Forty might be the new thirty, but fourth grade is still middle-aged in the elementary world. It’s riding your bike to school by yourself, packing your own lunch, getting picked first (or at least not last) for kickball. It’s having the school bully start to notice you, and the girls start to (pretend) to ignore you. It’s bringing home textbooks instead of worksheets, and protractors instead of art projects. Really, when you think about it, there’s not much time between the fourth grade science project and the college entrance essay.
Okay, maybe I am freaking out a little bit more than moderately. And I’m sure it seems silly to be thinking about about these things now, but let me tell you, you would be thinking about it, too, if people kept coming up to you and asking you what you’re going to do (or rather, what you’re going to write) when your kids grow up and leave. (That happens to me at least once a week. Have no fear on that score, though: I’m sure my kids will be doing entertainingly bizarre things well into their twenties and beyond. Hopefully, though, they’ll be doing it in their own houses.)
I guess, in the end, there’s really no point in freaking out: fourth grade is going to happen regardless. It’s inevitable: even the most entertaining sidekick must eventually become the star of their own show. Maybe even a show called “Walk, Clyde, walk.”