When I picked up Elena from her second day of first grade, she showed me her library books: One was all about poisonous snakes, the other  about prehistoric animals!

Elena's Elena-ness is such an spectacular thing to observe.  As similar as we are in some ways, the differences fascinate me even more:

She chooses books on animals over storybooks every time; I would never have picked either of those books but would have filled my book satchel with as many books of fiction as it would hold.

As we were walking to the car holding hands, I recalled my own first week of first grade and told her this story:

After school, the teacher led us from the classroom to the bus stop at the corner.  All the girls wore skirts and saddle oxfords--no light up shoes, no tights.  

Just when we passed the marble Confederate monument in the school yard,   I remembered that I had one of those fat pencils in my hand that the teacher had cautioned us not to take out of the room, ever ever, for any reason.  

For the entire distance from the marble Confederate monument to the corner, I squat-walked to hide the pencil under my skirt! 

"What are you doing, Linda?" the teacher asked.

"Just playing like I'm a duck," I said.

Elena looked amused and confused.

"Why didn't you just tell her you took the pencil by mistake or run in and put it back on your desk?"

That option, I told Elena, had never occurred to me at the time.

"Were kids like more dumb back then?"

"Not exactly dumb.  I was just the kind of kid who was afraid of doing the wrong thing or getting into trouble.  You're not that kind of girl,  are you?"

"No way!" she said.