Stuck with muggles
plea to Dumbledore
In case you are not au fait with first grade writing, it says “Dear Dumbledore, I’m stuck at a school for Muggles. I need your help. Send me an owl when you get this. Thanks, Helena.”
This resonated with me because I used to feel like that all the time. Like I was stuck at a school, in a house, in a world for Muggles and that I just wasn’t one of them and some day I would find out what made me different and then I would go off and be different and everything would be much much better.
Thing is, I was kinda right. That’s what growing up has given me — passage out of a school overrun by deeply muggle-ish Muggles and into a world where I fit in. No more must I lie and say that yes, I was allowed to stay up and watch SNL when I really wasn’t and even if I had been allowed, I’d have fallen asleep long before it was on and I probably wouldn’t have understood it anyway. No more do I have to feel wrong and out of place because I don’t wear designer jeans or day-glo socks. (Yes I was at middle school in the early 80’s; how did you guess?) No more do I have to pretend that I’m not that smart really and no, I don’t really like to read. Bah.
Now I watch what I like (GLEE!) and read what I want (just read a whole bunch of Andrew Clement taken from Daniel’s bookshelf) and go to bed when I want (now) and eat what I want (mostly) and wear what I want (pajamas! and Doc Martens!) and no one looks down her nose at me and tells me “That’s just not cool.” Or if someone does, I don’t care. Who cares about being cool? I care about being kind and interesting and interested and fed in body and mind and heart.
And not about doing or being or saying what anyone else thinks I ought to.
That is absolutely ADORABLE!
Isn’t it? But it also broke my heart in that motherhood kind of way because what I really want for her is to find herself at her own Hogwarts, for her to feel at home and special and chosen. And finding out that the real world is so much less magical than we want it to be — and that really, no one chooses us for wonderful journeys, but we choose ourselves — is one of the hardest lessons of growing up.
Hi, Francesca – I’ve been thinking about you lately. Found your blog and there you are! Can you write back to me through this? Sorry I’vd been out of touch… Jen
Jen! How lovely to hear from you — I think there’s an email address lurking around the top of the blog somewhere but anyway — fmamendolia a.t. gmail dot com. I was thinking about you recently as we traveled through your bit of NJ on the way to the beach.
Francesca, I watch Glee too. Please don’t tell all my cool friends.
I never did find a world where I fitted comfortably. From a city in England through a variety of countries, I’ve kept on looking. I now live on a mountaintop in Australia, with my wife and dog, surrounded by bushland. Most of the people I know these days live on the Internet. Between the bush and the ‘net, I may have finally worked out a compromise with the world.
Reading this made my day. (I love Glee too) and your daughter is just fabulous and certainly found herself in the right family to discover all those *good* things.
That letter is one of the most touching things I’ve read in a long time. And you’re response to it touched me as well. I hope Helena finds that as well – with you guiding her, I’m sure she will. Thanks for sharing this.
She may not get the owl but she’s got a mom who’s sensitive and empathetic so she’s got a leg-up on most of the other muggle-bound kids.
Dear Francesca,
I am stuck in a house full of smelly boys. I am really glad I found you again. Please send *me* an owl!
Alto2
Oh that note is just too cute! Bless her heart!
I could relate to soo much of what you wrote, but didn’t even pretend to be cool. For some reason the statment: “I care about being kind and interesting and interested and fed in body and mind and heart” has left me immensely cheered this morning. In fact, I expect it’s just the thing Dumbledore would tell her. I think your daughter will benefit far more from her mother’s insight than ever fitting in with muggles.
Wow. That’s it exactly, isn’t it? We know we live in a magic world, but we’re surrounded by Muggles.
Your little girl just showed me exactly why I didn’t fit in at her age, and frankly what most of my struggles are now. I know your heart must break a little, but I think she’ll find her magic places just fine. E. Nesbit, that grove in the woods where the sun falls perfectly on the moss, that pen-friend who likes Harry Potter just as much.
If she’s alert enough to see that there is magic, even if it’s not the Dumbledorian type she’d love, she’ll do just fine.
She sounds like the sort of kid I’d like to know.