I was brushing my younger daughter's hair in her room after a bath when, from across the hall, I heard my older daughter in the bathroom tell Belle matter-of-factly, "Some girls in my class are getting their periods."
But I had already seen the past and future of girlhood thanks in part to Girls on the Run, an after-school program my oldest is in that I helped coached last school year. Twice a week, girls in third through fifth grades met to build life skills and run, culminating in 5K races at the end of each semester.
My daughter participated last year as a third grader, and I only knew of the program whatever she told me when she came home from practice. In August, she was on the wait list and upset she wouldn't be on the team with a bunch of her friends. When we found out the child of a coach automatically is on the team, I realized I could help out once a week. So, without knowing exactly what I was getting myself into, I volunteered to coach.
I was one of two dad-coaches during the winter program and the only dad coach in the spring program. But the only time I felt out of place was when the other coaches were sharing childbirth stories prior to practice one day. "I had an ingrown toenail removed once," I said in a moment of silence. I'm thankful they didn't make me run laps.
The two lead coaches had been in their roles for a few years and created a well-oiled machine. Each practice involved a lesson on effective communication or self-confidence, for example, with group activities and time for self-reflection, followed by some running. I largely kept quiet and observed, figuring the lessons would resonate more coming from women, plus I didn't want to teach the girls any lessons in mansplaining.
Once school dismissed for the day, the girls stampeded toward our meeting area, releasing their pent-up energy and searching for food, with lots of giggling and loud talking. Some days, the giggling and talking would last for the entire practice but I was impressed with how insightful their answers could be, how wise beyond their years they occasionally sounded.
I say "occasionally" because this still was, at its core, a gaggle of 8-to-11-year-old girls. The group dynamics make for a great anthropological study. Most of the girls congregated with the other girls in their grade, although there was never any hesitation to work with girls in different grades during group activities. There was friendly roughhousing but also lots of cartwheels, dance routines and singing. Elementary school girls are just as silly elementary school boys, minus the constant fear of one randomly hitting the other with whatever object is nearby.
Having a fourth grader also allowed me to see where my daughter came from and where she was going. It was an evolutionary chart in real-time. There were some days where I could not imagine her as a fifth grader, others where it was hard to remember her as a third grader. Time, like the girls during practice, moves slowly before suddenly speeding up.
The Girls on the Run program culminates with all of the teams in the county gathering for a 5K run. Each girl runs with a parent or adult, and the course is lined with cheering supporters. My daughter and I were bundled up and walking more than I wanted to in December. In June, we were sweating and trying to keep to a two-minute run, one-minute walk routine for her, and a two-minute run, one-minute-run-a-little-slower-because-stopping-and-starting-was-not-good-for-my-legs routine for me.
The last meeting of the semester was a party, where parents are invited and the girls receive their certificate for completing the program. As the coaches congratulated each girl, my daughter gave me a big hug. She's asked me to coach again next year. I've already started working on my childbirth story.
