Walsh Family Universe V2

The alarm went off at 6:30 AM on a Wednesday in February. Ash hit snooze once—a luxury he allowed himself—then dragged himself out of bed at 6:37.

Fifth grade started at 8:00, but he needed time for his morning routine. Shower (mandatory since puberty made him disgusting if he skipped), deodorant, cologne, getting dressed. The whole production took forty-five minutes now instead of the ten it had taken when he was younger.

He pulled on jeans and a t-shirt from his baseball team, checked himself in the mirror. 5'7" now, still growing. His face was changing, losing the last softness of childhood. He looked less like a little kid and more like a tween on the edge of adolescence.

Downstairs, Mom had breakfast ready—scrambled eggs, toast, orange juice.

"Big day?" she asked.

"Just Wednesday. We're starting fractions in math. Again."

"Again?"

"We did fractions in third grade and fourth grade. Now we're doing them in fifth grade but 'more complex.'" Ash made air quotes. "It's still fractions."

"Well, at least it's easy for you."

That was the problem. It was all easy. Had been easy since kindergarten.

Dad appeared, already dressed for work. "Don't forget, you have practice after school. Mom will pick you up at 5:30."

"I know."

"And homework before screens tonight."

"I know, Dad."

The drive to St. Catherine's took fifteen minutes. Ash stared out the window, watching houses pass by, thinking about the fact that this was his last year here. Next year—sixth grade—he'd move to middle school with Marcus and Tyler and the rest of his class.

A new building, new teachers, lockers, changing classes. The beginning of actually being a teenager, even if he'd mentally been an adult for over three decades.

"Have a good day," Mom said as he got out of the car.

"You too."

St. Catherine's Elementary was smaller than he remembered from when he'd started eight years ago. The hallways that had seemed massive when he was two now felt cramped. The desks that had swallowed him whole now seemed tiny.

He was one of the oldest kids in the building. Fifth graders were the top of the hierarchy, the big kids that kindergarteners looked up to with awe.

It felt weird. He'd been here for nine years. Nine years of the same building, the same playground, watching himself grow on that doorframe at home from three feet tall to nearly 5'8".

"Noam! Wait up!" Alex jogged to catch up with him, their purple-streaked hair newly dyed, wearing a hoodie with a rainbow patch.

"Hey. New hair looks good."

"Thanks! I did it myself last night." Alex fell into step beside him. "Ready for another thrilling day of elementary school?"

"Can't wait. I heard we're learning about the Oregon Trail in social studies."

"Again? Didn't we do that in fourth grade?"

"Yep. But this time we'll learn about it more 'in-depth.'" More air quotes.

They walked into Mrs. Anderson's classroom together. The room was decorated with motivational posters and student work. Their desks were arranged in clusters of four—Ash shared his cluster with Alex, Marcus, and Emma.

"Morning!" Emma was already at her desk, working on something in her notebook. "Did you guys do the reading homework?"

"What reading homework?" Marcus asked, dropping his backpack with a thud.

"The chapter about the Oregon Trail. We were supposed to read it and answer questions."

"Oh. That homework." Marcus pulled out a crumpled paper. "I did it in the car this morning."

Mrs. Anderson called the class to attention at 8:05. "Good morning, fifth graders! Let's start with our morning meeting. Who has something to share?"

Morning meeting was a fifth-grade institution—time for students to share news, discuss feelings, practice public speaking. Ash found it simultaneously infantilizing and necessary, given that most of his classmates were actually eleven-year-olds who needed practice with social-emotional skills.

A girl named Sarah shared about her dog having puppies. A boy named Kevin talked about his upcoming birthday party. Mrs. Anderson guided the discussion, asking follow-up questions, encouraging participation.

"Noam, would you like to share anything?"

"Not really."

"Come on, there must be something interesting happening in your life."

"I have a baseball game this weekend."

"That's great! Where is it?"

"At the community fields. Against Riverside."

"Well, good luck with that. Anyone else?"

After morning meeting came Language Arts. Mrs. Anderson projected a paragraph on the smart board.

"Today we're working on identifying the main idea and supporting details. Who can tell me what the main idea of this paragraph is?"

Ash scanned the paragraph in two seconds. It was about the water cycle. The main idea was obviously how water moves through different states.

Several hands went up. Mrs. Anderson called on someone who gave a long, rambling answer that eventually got to the right idea. The teacher praised them enthusiastically, then had the class copy the paragraph into their notebooks and underline the main idea and circle the supporting details.

Busy work. Ash finished in three minutes, then sat waiting while other students laboriously worked through it.

"Noam, if you're done, you can read your independent reading book," Mrs. Anderson said.

He pulled out the book he was reading—some science fiction novel he'd found at the library. It was above the fifth-grade reading level, but Mrs. Anderson let him read whatever he wanted as long as he completed the work.

Around him, students were still circling details, asking questions, discussing with their table groups.

This was his life now. Finish everything quickly, then wait or read while everyone else caught up.

Math was next. Mrs. Anderson wrote on the board: Adding and Subtracting Fractions with Unlike Denominators

"Who remembers what we need to do when fractions have different denominators?"

"Find a common denominator!" several students called out.

"Exactly! Let's work through an example together. What's 1/3 + 1/4?"

Ash knew it was 7/12. Could do it instantly in his head. But he dutifully copied down the steps Mrs. Anderson wrote on the board:

1/3 + 1/4
Find LCD: 12
1/3 = 4/12
1/4 = 3/12
4/12 + 3/12 = 7/12

They worked through five examples as a class. Then Mrs. Anderson handed out worksheets with twenty more problems.

"Work independently. If you finish early, check your answers with a partner."

Ash finished in eight minutes. Checked his work. All correct.

Marcus was on problem four, carefully finding common denominators, showing all his work.

"Want help?" Ash offered quietly.

"Nah, I got it. It's just slow."

Ash pulled out his book again.

When Mrs. Anderson collected the worksheets, she glanced at Ash's. "All correct, as usual. Nice work."

"Thanks."

"Have you thought about the advanced math program at the middle school? I think you'd be a good fit."

"Maybe. I'll think about it."

He wouldn't think about it. Advanced math meant more homework, more pressure, standing out even more than he already did. He'd rather coast through regular math and focus on sports.

Recess was at 10:30. The fifth graders had the playground to themselves for twenty minutes before the younger grades came out.

Ash, Marcus, Tyler, and a few other boys immediately claimed the basketball court. They played a quick game—Ash's height and coordination giving him an advantage but not enough to dominate completely.

Alex sat on the sidelines with Emma and a few other kids, drawing in their sketchbook.

"You ever going to play sports?" Tyler called to them during a break.

"Not my thing," Alex replied. "I'd rather draw."

"That's fair."

After basketball, they had ten minutes to just hang out. Some kids played on the swings, some clustered in groups talking, some played tag.

Ash found himself standing by the fence, looking at the playground equipment he'd used for nine years. The slides he'd gone down thousands of times. The monkey bars he'd learned to traverse. The tetherball pole with his name carved in it (from third grade, when he and Marcus had gotten in trouble for defacing school property).

"Weird, right?" Emma appeared beside him. "Knowing this is our last year here."

"Yeah."

"I've been here since kindergarten. I can't imagine not coming here every day."

"Middle school's going to be different."

"Scary different or exciting different?"

"Both, probably."

They watched the younger kids pour onto the playground—second and third graders shrieking with energy.

"We used to be that small," Emma said.

"Hard to believe."

"You especially. You're like, actually tall now. I remember when you were shorter than me."

"That was a long time ago."

"Third grade. Not that long ago." Emma smiled. "But yeah, you've grown like a foot since then."

The bell rang, ending recess. They filed back inside.

After recess came Social Studies. The Oregon Trail unit, as promised.

Mrs. Anderson pulled up a documentary about pioneers heading west. Ash had seen similar documentaries at least three times in previous grades.

He took notes anyway, because that was what you did. Copied down key facts about wagon trains and the journey west and the challenges pioneers faced.

"For your project," Mrs. Anderson announced, "you'll be working in groups to create a presentation about life on the Oregon Trail. You can make a poster, a diorama, a video, or a performance. Be creative!"

Group projects. Ash suppressed a sigh.

Mrs. Anderson assigned the groups. Ash ended up with Marcus, a girl named Jessica, and a boy named Thomas.

"Let's do a video!" Thomas said immediately.

"I think a diorama would be cooler," Jessica argued.

"Poster is easiest," Marcus suggested.

They debated for the rest of the period, not actually deciding anything. This was how group projects always went—lots of discussion, minimal actual work.

Lunch was at noon. The fifth graders ate in the cafeteria with the fourth and sixth graders. Ash went through the line—today's options were chicken nuggets or grilled cheese—and found their usual table.

Marcus, Tyler, Daniel, Emma, Alex, and a rotating cast of other kids. Their friend group had solidified over the years into this core group.

"Who has basketball today?" Tyler asked.

"Me," Marcus and Daniel said in unison.

"Baseball practice," Ash said.

"Art club," Alex added.

"I have nothing," Emma said. "Just homework and watching TV."

"Living the dream," Tyler joked.

They talked about the Oregon Trail project, about upcoming sports games, about a movie they wanted to see. Normal fifth-grade conversation.

Ash listened and participated and felt both completely part of it and slightly removed from it. He was here. He was present. He was genuinely friends with these kids.

But he was also thirty-two, watching eleven-year-olds discuss things that felt simultaneously important and trivial.

Both things. Always both things.

After lunch came Science. They were studying ecosystems—food chains, producers and consumers, energy transfer.

Mrs. Anderson set up an experiment where students had to create a model ecosystem in a jar. Soil, plants, insects, sealed up to see what would happen over the next few weeks.

"This is actually kind of cool," Alex said as they added soil to their jar.

"Yeah, better than worksheets," Ash agreed.

They worked together, carefully layering their ecosystem, adding plants and small insects, sealing it up.

"Do you think it'll survive?" Alex asked.

"If we balanced it right, yeah. The plants produce oxygen, the insects consume it and produce CO2, the plants use the CO2. It's a cycle."

"You're like a walking science textbook."

"I just pay attention."

"No, you're smart. Like, actually smart. Not just good-at-school smart." Alex positioned a plant carefully. "Why do you hide it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you could be in all advanced classes. You could be the kid who wins science fairs and gets straight A's and makes everyone else look bad. But you don't. You coast. Why?"

Ash thought about how to answer. "Because being the smart kid isn't fun. Being the athlete is more fun. People like you more when you're good at sports than when you're good at school."

"That's kind of sad."

"That's reality."

"Still sad." Alex sealed their jar. "For what it's worth, I think you could do both. Be the athlete and the smart kid."

"Maybe. But then I'd have to work hard in school, and right now it's easy enough that I don't have to."

"Fair enough."

The last period of the day was P.E. They were playing dodgeball—a fifth-grade favorite despite Mrs. Anderson's concerns about it being too aggressive.

Ash was good at dodgeball. Fast reflexes, good arm, strategic thinking. He was always one of the last standing.

Today's game came down to him and Tyler on one side, three kids on the other. They won eventually, Tyler landing the final shot.

"Nice!" Ash high-fived him.

"We make a good team," Tyler said, grinning.

After P.E., they had ten minutes to pack up before dismissal. Ash shoved his homework into his backpack—a math worksheet, reading a chapter for Language Arts, working on the Oregon Trail project.

"See you tomorrow!" Emma called as they filed out to the pickup area.

"Later!"

Mom was waiting in the car line. "How was your day?"

"Fine. Normal."

"Any homework?"

"Some. I'll do it before practice."

At home, Ash spread his homework across the kitchen table. The math worksheet took five minutes. Reading the chapter would take fifteen. The Oregon Trail stuff could wait until they had a group meeting.

He finished everything by 4:00, giving him an hour and a half before Mom would drive him to practice.

He spent it painting with the supplies Sophie had left him. Working on a landscape, experimenting with color mixing, letting his mind go quiet in a way that only art allowed.

At 5:15, Mom called up the stairs. "Time to go!"

Ash changed into his practice clothes, grabbed his baseball bag, headed downstairs.

"Ready for practice?" Mom asked as they drove.

"Yeah. Coach said we're doing batting drills today."

"Your game this weekend is against Riverside, right?"

"Yeah. They're good. We beat them last time but it was close."

At practice, Ash fell into the familiar rhythm. Warm-ups, drills, scrimmage. His body knowing what to do, his mind able to focus completely on the physical.

This was where he belonged. Not in a classroom doing fractions he'd mastered years ago. Here. Moving, competing, being part of a team.

By the time Mom picked him up at 7:30, he was exhausted in the good way. Muscles sore, mind quiet, ready to eat dinner and maybe watch TV before bed.

"How was practice?" Mom asked.

"Good. Really good."

At home, he showered, ate dinner with his parents, watched half an hour of TV before Mom said it was time for bed.

In his room, Ash looked at the day's evidence. Homework completed. Art partially finished. Baseball uniform in the laundry.

Tomorrow would be the same. Thursday's schedule: math, language arts, social studies, science, P.E. Homework, practice, home.

Friday would be similar. Then the weekend with games and more homework and hanging out with friends.

Every day basically the same. The routine of fifth grade. His last year of elementary school.

"My name is Ash," he whispered to the dark. "I'm thirty-two years old. I'm eleven years old. Today I did fractions I've already learned twice, worked on a group project about the Oregon Trail, played dodgeball, and went to baseball practice. Tomorrow I'll do it again."

Four thousand, eight hundred and ten days to go.

But today had been fine. Not exciting, not terrible. Just normal fifth grade in his last year at St. Catherine's Elementary.

Next year would be different. Middle school, new building, new expectations.

But for now, for these last few months, this was his life. Morning meetings and recess and group projects. Basketball at lunch and science experiments and dodgeball in P.E.

The simplicity of elementary school. The routine. The familiarity.

His last year of being a big kid instead of the youngest teenager.

He'd make the most of it.

One normal Wednesday at a time.