Letter to my son

Dear Son,

Last year was a milestone—your leap from elementary into a school that houses both middle and high school. It felt enormous at first. Before 6th grade began, you volunteered to help teachers set up their classrooms, a gift of service that also helped you learn the campus. I still remember “picnic day,” the day we walked your schedule together, searching for classes in a maze of oddly numbered rooms. We were both nervous, trying to imagine how it would all unfold.

This year, at the 7th grade picnic day, I saw the change. You walked the halls with ease, guiding me instead of the other way around. You greeted classmates with a smile, carried yourself with confidence, and showed me where everything was—even though your classes were new. That shift, from nerves to quiet pride, is something I will never forget.

6th grade was no small adjustment. At Haynes Advanced Academy, there’s no easing in—homework is heavy, expectations are high, and playtime is gone. But you had already learned an important lesson back in 5th grade: never wait to start a project. That habit carried you through. By the end of the year, you not only managed the challenge—you thrived. You grew to like your teachers, and they spoke so highly of you. And now, 7th grade already looks promising.

Your teachers sparked more than just grades—they inspired adventures. Social studies led us to the Grand Canyon, where you stood in awe of the land you’d read about. Later, lessons in history brought us to Maryland and D.C., where you walked through places you had only seen in books. Both trips were unforgettable, each deepening your love of learning.

Not everything was easy. Last year brought the sting of bullying, a harsh reality no parent wants for their child. But you spoke up, the dean and teachers listened, and things improved. This year, thankfully, you’re not in class with those students, and I hope immaturity has given way to kindness.

And then—your leap test scores. Advanced in every subject, with math a perfect 850. Straight A’s all year. My heart swells just writing this. Can you keep it going? I know you can. I know you care. School is your “job” right now, and you give it your all. More than grades, though, you’re growing into a compassionate, giving young man, and that is what makes me most proud.

Another highlight: your journey into music. Two auditions for the LMEA Middle School All-State Choir, competing against older students from across Louisiana. Waiting for results wasn’t easy, but you did it—you made it! The youngest from Haynes, the only 6th grader chosen. Four days of nonstop rehearsals and performances, singing alongside 120 peers, guided by professionals—you shone. That experience will always be a part of you.

Now, as a 7th grader, you’re preparing to audition again. The competition will be even tougher, but I know you’ll give your best. And that, truly, is what matters most.

You’re still at the Louisiana Academy of Performing Arts, learning voice, piano, and guitar, while keeping clarinet in band. Your curiosity and passion for learning can’t be taught—it’s something rare and precious, something I hope you’ll carry all your life.

I’m proud of the student you are, but even more, of the young man you’re becoming.

With all my love,

Mom