Brett Buckner: So, tell me something I don’t know
Mar 24, 2013 | 1116 views |  0 comments | 5 5 recommendations | email to a friend | print
Something I’ve long believed has finally been proven true … twice.

My two daughters are indeed the smartest, most well-rounded, most well-spoken, caring, insightful, motivated, socially adjusted, socially conscious, academically prepared students in their respective grades.

They’re also the prettiest girls with the sweetest personalities and dispositions (granted, that wasn’t exactly spelled out in black and white, but as a journalist one learns to read between the lines).

And this isn’t just some doting father bragging about his pride and joys — prides and joy? … prides and joys? — whatever, I’m not just making this stuff up. This comes directly from the Powers That Be in charge of higher learning at their school.

My girls are more awesome than the Garbage Pail Kids were gross (and also kinda awesome). But enough of the hyperbole; here’s the proof.

People in Columbus are crazy-mad competitive when it comes to school. There’s less stress about choosing a college than there is with ending up at the right high school, and zoning means nothing.

The Diva is the academic equivalent of a monster truck; she crushes everything in her path. So we knew she needed a good school; one that would challenge her (read: keep her busy). After much research and nagging we went with Hardaway, because it had an international baccalaureate program that she could start as a freshman.

It’s been tough. This is a child who has never made less than an A in her entire life and was actually terrified of anything less. We wanted her to be pushed — mission accomplished. She’s pulled a few B’s and even the occasional C, but she never quit. There was some whining, but she always pushed harder.

Yesterday, we found out she was in the top 10 percent of all sophomore international baccalaureate students.

BOO-YA!

In honor of her accomplishment, we’re taking The Diva out for sushi. It’s a reward for her, a punishment for me. The Diva can put away California rolls the way Kobayashi scarfs down Nathan’s hot dogs, but given as hard as she’s worked, it’s well worth the extra weight on my Wells Fargo card.

Not to be outdone, Jellybean’s making her own mark, though given she’s only 5 years old and in pre-K, her area isn’t strictly academic. And getting into a good pre-K is every bit as cut throat as getting into high school.

It’s totally normal for parents to sleep outside of an elementary school — like geeks hanging out in front of Best Buy to get the latest iPhone — just to ensure their kid gets a slot. And these aren’t those loony helicopter moms who treat finger painting like a Rorschach test into their children’s souls. Rather these are normal, work-a-day mothers who, like Norman Bates, “go a little mad sometimes.”

Jellybean’s in a great pre-K program. It’s not pre-Harvard or pre-Columbia, but it’s got a solid curriculum and teachers who remember not only her name, but mine (which is better than I can do with theirs). And last week we received Jellybean’s assessment as she prepares to enter kindergarten.

“She is one of the sweetest students I’ve ever had,” her teacher said. “She … listens … plays well with others … manages her feelings … engages in conversation … follows direction.”

And she loves books. Her teacher reads stories before naptime and while all the other kids are settling down and going to sleep, Jellybean’s sitting on the edge of her cot, riveted.

“She is just a pleasure to teach.”

The pleasure’s been all mine … and that goes double.
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