By Krystal Sieben 
To the fifth-grade parents in my community:
How are we here already? The end of fifth grade. The end of elementary school.
It feels like yesterday we saw each other at kindergarten drop off, some of us through the tears of sending our first baby to school, some seasoned pros, and a small group of us with a touch of extra worry in our mama hearts—the special ed mamas.
Among the many things I worried about sending my kindergarten son to school was how your children would treat him. Would they laugh at him like they did at his Montessori when he used echolalia to process words and thoughts? Would they think it was strange that he didn’t talk? Maybe a few words but definitely not a conversation. Would my son with autism have a friend? I prayed he would.
Kindergarten went by far better than I expected. A few times I noticed a kind little girl who wore a big bow in her hair interacting with my son when I nervously volunteered for classroom events. At the end of the year, he was even invited to a birthday party. I returned the RSVP with a “no” (thinking it may have been a mistake). It wasn’t.
First and second grades blew by, mostly due to COVID and distance learning. We had birthday parties with friends, kind teachers, and happiness. Third grade made me nervous again. The comfort and routine of the K-2 setting was gone and now we were in the 3-5 school. These are the grades when kids get mean. I braced myself. Once again, I was the new special ed mama at drop-off; the fears bubbled back up.
As third grade began, the little girl with the bow and the birthday party boy from kindergarten were solid friends in our lives now. With play dates and fun parents and comfort. I knew at least when they were around, he’d be safe. He’d be looked after.
Fourth grade flew by, and I realized those awful scenarios I imagined—fears of bullying, worries about teasing or being left out. None of these things that kept me up so many nights ever happened.
As fifth grade wraps up, I’ve realized something. Something only your children could teach me. Kids today are better than we were. Not just a little better . . . night and day better.
Maybe your fifth grader is sassy to you. Maybe they fight with their sibling. Maybe they didn’t make the team. Maybe you worry they spend too much time playing video games. Maybe they refuse to wear a jacket in the dead of winter. Maybe they don’t clean their room. Maybe they fight with friends and say swear words or tell the occasional lie. Maybe they struggle academically. Maybe you worry other things about your fifth grader.
But I can tell you one thing. One simple thing that is the truth about every fifth grader at my son’s school. One thing I know for certain about your child . . . your child is kind.
When my son didn’t speak in kindergarten, your child was kind. When my son cried about missing his brother in first grade, your child was kind. When my son needed a little help remembering his boots or where to go, your child was kind. When my son was a little different during the fourth-grade recorder concert, your child was kind.
In thousands of situations I didn’t see, couldn’t be there for, couldn’t protect him from, couldn’t watch . . . your child did that for me.
From a mother to a mother. A parent to a parent. Hug your fifth grader tonight. From me. From my son. Because in a situation when they could be anything, your child was truly kind. Your child changed the trajectory of my family’s life, and I will always be grateful.
To the kindest fifth graders there ever were, thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Teddy’s mom.
by Melissa Aiuppy 
