I am ten.

I am sitting on the ladder of the monkey-bars at my elementary school's Little Kids' playground. My foot trails in the tanbark below me and my cheek rests against the cool metal of the pole on one side of the ladder up.

It's not recess, it's not lunchtime, and it's not afternoon recess. It's not a weekend. There are no other kids around and the silence and lack of activity is strange to me in this place that I'm used to constant company. I've been here on weekends before with families of friends, and my friends and their siblings and I have run obstacle courses, raced each other, and showed off moves on the vertical bars together. During recess, we would sit atop the "rainbow" (the arched metal structure to climb or swing beneath) and gossip and practice new dismounts. Today, there is no one to show off for, or discuss the name for a dismount with, or tag and scurry away from, because I am alone on the playground.

I'm sitting in the Little Kids' playground even though I'm now a Big Kid, in fourth grade. I'm here instead of at the Big Kids' playground because the Big Kids' playground is just not as fun as the Little Kids' one. This wasn't always the case; in fact, just the year before, when I was in third grade and eagerly anticipating my promotion to the next wing and playground at the school, the Big Kids had the far superior playground. There was a huge wooden structure roughly in the shape of a ship. There were different levels to climb on and run through, bridges to race across, gangplanks to walk, and a crow's nest to climb. We Little Kids were not allowed over there at recess or lunch, but sometimes, if we were Really Good, (or perhaps just Really Rowdy), our teachers would allow us out in the middle of the day to play for a little while. I loved those times, and eagerly anticipated the day when I would be a Big Kid and could have this ship in my home playground. Alas, that day would never come. I do not know if it was a lawsuit after an injury, or if it was just that the structure was getting older and more unsafe, but it was torn down the summer between my third and fourth grade school years, and replaced with a very mundane set of monkey bars and parallel bars. The Little Kids' playground had those, and kept its rainbow and climbing structures, and besides, it is closest to the room where my parents were meeting with my teacher, and I'm not supposed to go too far, so I sit here.

I'm tired of sitting here, though, and I think that maybe I should get even closer to where my parents are, so I walk over to the picnic table directly outside the classroom and sit there. I really don't know why they are meeting with Mr. L, my teacher, because I'm a good kid. I don't talk during class (not more than anyone else anyway); I have never been in a fight; I know that I'm smart; I feel that I contribute a lot to class. I must have done something wrong, but I don't know what it is, and it makes me nervous and sad to think about it, so I try to think about something else.

I wonder what's going on with my parents. That's a good thing to think about instead, although it also scares me and makes me sad. Something is going on, that's for sure, because not long ago, C, my sister, and I, were in our bedroom and our parents were yelling at each other so loud that we heard them. It scared us, and C became so agitated that she decided to make them stop. She picked up a coat hanger, and brandished it above her head, and ran into the room they were arguing in, and ran between them. She shook the wire hanger at them and said, "I know this looks like a coat hanger, but it is not. It is a sword, and I am going to use it if you do not stop fighting right now." My parents were so shocked that they did stop for a little while, but they started again later. I think that sometimes one or the other doesn't spend the night at home. I'm not sure.

This is a very worrisome topic. I've read about divorce in books, but I always thought, "That could never happen to my family." I always know that you're supposed to be nice to other kids whose parents get divorced, but that's not going to happen to my family. It couldn't. Could it?

My mother comes to the door of the classroom and asks me to come inside. I walk in and see that Mr. L has moved the desks so that his big teacher's desk is next to my desk, and my parents are sitting at the desks of some of my classmates next to my desk. Mr. L motions me to sit at my desk, and I do.

"Do you know why you're here?" he asks me.

I indicate that I do not.

"Your parents and I have been coming up with a plan. We want to help you. It's very important for you to do your homework, so we've created this check-up system for you. Here is a blank book. Every night, you must write your homework assignments for the evening in it, and then sign it once you have completed them. Then, your parents must sign next to your signature, and then you need to turn in this book to me each morning. I will return it to you by afternoon for you to write your assignments in again for the evening. Do you understand?"

I'm embarrassed. I blush, and I nod. I'm also surprised. I didn't think that I had any issues with homework, and in fact, I wasn't really aware that I had been missing any.

My parents seem serious as they agree to uphold their end of the bargain, and we leave.

In the car, my father asks me why I haven't been doing my homework. I don't know, and I tell him this. He says that I need to make sure that I do my homework, that it's very important. How am I ever going to get into college someday if I have a bad habit of not doing homework starting in fourth grade?!

I don't know how I'm going to get into college. I don't want to think about it yet. I can't even get it together to do my homework consistently at age ten, probably because I'm stressed out, maybe because I'm depressed, though I wouldn't know how to use these words to describe what I'm feeling yet. I just want to be a little kid and not worry about adult things, like divorce and college.

Maybe I should go back to the Little Kids' playground.