Isabelle got her high school course recommendations today.
Ninth grade. It still sounds impossible that we’re here already.
She forwarded the email to both of us—me and her mom.
All of her core classes were recommended as Honors. One AP class too.
That’s a strong schedule. Something to be proud of.
But her note said this:
“Guess I’m not smart enough for AP Biology.”
I stared at the screen for a while.
This is a kid who has straight A’s. High A’s.
She finishes her work without reminders. She studies. She asks questions.
She barely complains. She shows up. Again and again.
And still—somewhere in her—there’s that voice.
That quiet self-doubt.
That way of turning one line in an email into a mirror that reflects back every insecurity.
I talked to her later. She said she was kidding.
But I don’t think it was just a joke.
Because right after, she told me she kind of believes it too.
And maybe that’s just part of this age.
That tug-of-war between pride and doubt.
Between the girl who knows she’s capable—and the one who isn’t always sure.
It’s not something I can fix.
But it’s something I can be here for.
So that’s what I’ll do.
Whether she feels smart or doesn’t. Whether she jokes about it or doesn’t.
Whether it’s AP Biology or Honors Biology or something else entirely.
Because she is smart enough.
And even when she forgets, I’ll keep reminding her—until the voice in her head says it too.
