|T in front of her new high school!|
After a bit of tossing and turning, T finally got to sleep the night before her oral exams to graduate middle school. Then she made it through until about half past three in the afternoon the following day, when she walked over to school with Natasha to give some emotional support to her classmate Ginevra whose exam was scheduled third for the afternoon session. And then she waited, and waited, and waited until almost eight at night for her turn to arrive. She had expected to be called at least an hour earlier. They had told her to come for five o'clock and she was fourth in line. When she finally got called she wasn't really nervous anymore, as it is hard to hold on to the butterflies for five hours. She was calm, cool, and collected even though they made her play Beethoven's Ode to Joy on her flauto/recorder. All of the professors loved her power point presentations. They didn't get what an amazing job she did with the gifs because they thought they didn't understand the difference between gifs and videos, but they appreciated the imagery all the same. Her Spanish professor refused to let her speak any Spanish, even though T had prepared the given text thoroughly. It turned out that the professor had brought her eight year old son with his adorable pug nose and bowl haircut to the exams after the babysitter couldn't make it, and she had promised him that the girl from New York would speak English for him.
Yesterday before work, I dropped off a present I have been wanting to give the math professor all year, but couldn't because it would have looked like a bribe. But now that the grades were all in, I gave her a lovely over sized journal and we dropped off F's famous Gorgonzola bread for the rest of the professors. T's math professor had gone out of her way to make sure there was a line of communication between the school and T's doctors. We appreciated that she also made sure that T didn't get any special treatment, yet was treated fairly throughout the year and took into account T's blood sugar levels when it was necessary. Plus she really is a great teacher of math, which is a great quality to have in that line of work.
During her oral exam, the professors told T that she did more than sufficient work on all of her written exams. They told her she did molto bene in Italian and in English and bene in math and Spanish and that her state exams went well. I was ecstatic and she was very relieved.
This morning a mother of one of T's classmates called me to say that she, poor thing, had to go to her daughter's high school to learn the policy because she was, sigh, rather certain that he daughter had received a high grade of nine or ten and she didn't want to have to pay the full admission price of 72 euro if she could profit from the policy that high ranking children only have to pay 45 euro for the admission fee. Insert eye roll here. T's dream grade and goal this whole year was to end up with an eight. Eight is great.
T went over to the school bulletin board where they post the numeric grades and the overall grade on a scale from one to ten with ten being the highest. This overall score is necessary for admission to high school. Wait for it . . . T got a NINE! That is a 9 out of 10. Did you hear? A NINE! Did I mention that this whole middle school is in ITALIAN? It was the fifth highest grade in the class. Four people got tens and T was the only nine. And the best news of all? She never has to do middle school ever, ever again in this lifetime. (Except if you count living through it vicariously over again with your children which is only slightly better, but at least you don't have to wear the braces or do the homework.)
|That's a nove!|