My children start third grade today.

I'm hoping all goes well.

I remember third grade. I have memories from before that time period, sure, bits and pieces, but third grade is when my recollection focuses sharply and is still crystal clear today.

I'm blessed/cursed with a vivid memory. I remember my teacher that year and how she ate grapes every day. She was pregnant and miserable. She hated me.

My mother remembers things differently.

"She didn't hate you, Catherine. She was just the first person who didn't want you to be the star of the classroom. Your family and previous teachers thought everything you did was terrific. We didn't properly prepare you, I suppose, for the inevitable disappointment when you realized you weren't the center of everyone's world."

I knew I blamed them for something.

My third grade teacher was the first, but not the last, to call home and speak with my parents. Mom answered the phone. Teacher told her that I'd been mean (to the class bully) and wouldn't apologize (because I wasn't sorry).

Teacher: So I told Catherine she wouldn't be able to play at recess until she said she was sorry.

Mom: That sounds reasonable.

Teacher: I thought so, too, but that was three weeks ago.

I sat on the bench every day for three weeks with my arms crossed and refused to say a word. Then Mom threatened to take away my favorite book or something.

I apologized the next day. With my fingers crossed.

Where was I? Oh yeah, I'm hoping it goes well for them. My boys. My third graders.

What're the odds?