Jenn Callaghan, 13, leans back in the dentist's chair. She has been looking forward to this day -- May 12 -- "for four days short of two-and-a-half years," she says.
Today Jenn's braces come off.
"I cannot wait," says Jenn, an eighth grader at Knotty Oak Middle School in Coventry. "The first thing I want to eat is a Tootsie Roll."
Her parents, Alan Callaghan and Pamela C. Greshan, are in the waiting room. Though they divorced when Jenn was 5 and her sister, Julianne, was 1, they remain close. Alan still takes vacations with the girls, Pamela and her husband, Sam "Scott" Greshan.
"It's a big day for her," says Alan, who took the day off from his job as an engineer and plans to bring Jenn to the movie Mission Impossible III in the afternoon. Pamela, a real estate agent in Cranston, will go to work late.
Both agree that Alan is stricter with the two girls; Pamela says she tries to balance being their mother with being their friend.
"In this day and age, with MySpace and everything else, you have to watch them like a hawk," Pamela says. "At the same time, you don't want to ride them too hard and lose them."
Alan and Pamela say that despite their different parenting styles, they agree on key things. Nothing is more important than family, they say, and the girls' grandparents are central figures in their lives.
"There's no such thing as a good divorce," says Jenn's father, Alan Callaghan. "But you can still have a good family."
Alan and Pamela also say that while they remain close to their own parents, they are more open minded with their girls than their parents were with them.
"Getting my braces off, this wouldn't have happened," Alan says, referring to himself and Pamela waiting for Jenn. "I probably would have just been dropped off."
Inside the examination room, things are going smoothly.
"This is my favorite kind of day, when I take off the braces," says Jenn's pediatric dentist, Dr. Craig Elice, as he leans over Jenn and begins snipping brace wires. "I get to see the smile."
JENN CALLAGHAN, Gigi DeBarros of Pawtucket, David Dennis of Middletown and Adam Littlefield of South Kingstown are 4 of the 12,471 eighth graders in Rhode Island who are approaching the end of middle school.
The four are very different. Jenn is a self-described tomboy who enjoys computer games. Gigi is a cheerleader and one of six sisters. David is an artist and passionate fan of car racing. Adam Littlefield is a musician, athlete and honor student.
Although they have distinct backgrounds and personalities, they share a common bond. All come from close-knit families. Each can identify a caring adult -- a parent, grandparent, mentor or favorite teacher -- who has encouraged and influenced them.
DAVID DENNIS' favorite place at home isn't his bedroom, a favorite retreat for teenagers, or the basement, where he fixes bicycles and paints. Instead, it's his family's two-story garage, located behind their Middletown home.
There, David, who turned 14 last month, his 12-year-old brother, Daniel, and their father, Dave, spend hours rebuilding race cars, repairing go-carts and paging through the latest issue of Hot Rod or Mopar Muscle.
The garage even has a large flat-screen TV, where the Dennis family and assorted relatives gather to watch the Daytona 500 and other NASCAR races on Sunday afternoons.
The family, including David's paternal grandfather, his uncles and numerous cousins, are all car nuts.
At least the men are.
"There's no stopping them," says Claudette Dennis, David's mother, as she watches three generations of David Dennises -- grandfather, father and son -- tinker with David's new go-cart one recent afternoon. "I do get nervous, but . . . ," she says with a shrug. "I know they make the effort to be safe."
Still, when David's father races in "hill climbing" events in Vermont -- a type of mountain racing -- or even when David test drives his go-cart in the driveway, Claudette winces. "I close my eyes a lot," she says.
Still, being around cars is where David is happiest.
He says he loves the excitement and speed of racing, the feel of tools in his hands and the challenge of figuring out how the moving parts work.
"I don't think he had a choice," David's grandfather says. "It was in his blood."
But the best part of car racing isn't about the cars.
Three generations of the Dennis family go on weekend camping trips to Vermont to race up hills. David and Daniel check their dad's tires in between runs. His grandfather cooks for groups of friends and family as large as 80, making fried-egg sandwiches and "garbage" soup. Even Claudette, who can't keep from worrying, enjoys these mini-vacations.
"It's just a more relaxing environment," she says. "It's nice to all be together."
As a kid, David's father went on similar family camping trips, and the tradition continues. Claudette made David a small sleeping bag for his first camping trip. He was six weeks old.
"It was the first time he slept through the night," his father recalls. "We heated up his bottles on the exhaust manifold."
GIGI DeBARROS' science class is finishing a map project. The eighth graders have drawn crustal plate models of the Earth, including mountain ranges, fault lines, volcanoes and country boundaries.
But not everyone got it right.
"We have American mountains in Canada, class," says Laureen Buonaccorsi, as she weaves her way through the desks. "We have a mid-ocean ridge where there isn't one."
She passes by one girl's map. "I think we need to reevaluate the Himalayas, Alyssa."
Science is last period, and on this May afternoon, Gigi's class is restless. Teachers have started to break apart boys and girls who are suddenly holding hands in the hallway. Spring fever has hit Slater Junior High in Pawtucket.
Gigi, 13, is restless, too. She is waiting to hear about her application to Lincoln School, a private, all-girls Quaker school on Providence's East Side. Considered one of the best schools in the state, Lincoln School is also one of the most expensive, at $21,450 a year. One of Gigi's friends attends Lincoln School and loves the small classes and friendly atmosphere.
Even if she gets into Lincoln School, she will be unable to attend unless the school also offers her a hefty scholarship.
Gigi's mother picks her up in a minivan, and they head home to the family's three-story white house. Gigi's parents, Laura and Aristedes DeBarros, who emigrated from Cape Verde, have raised their six girls, ages 9 through 16, in the first floor and basement. The top floors are rented out. Aristides is a truck driver. Laura is taking refresher courses in math and English and hopes to go to the Community College of Rhode Island this fall to become a medical assistant.
The six sisters share one bedroom, sleeping in bunk beds; their parents are in the other bedroom.
"I like having them close to me," Laura says. "But the older girls are asking when they can have their own room."
But Gigi's parents need the money from the rental units.
Gigi, 13, heads downstairs when she comes home from school and flops on the sofa in the den, next to her younger sister Yadira, 12. They still enjoy watching cartoons, such as SpongeBob SquarePants. Vianis, 15, and Andrea, 14, are on the den's two computers, doing homework. Itati, 9, chats with her mother.
"You have mail today, Gigi," Laura says.
Gigi wanders over, and Laura hands her an envelope.
Gigi's eyes widen. "It's from Lincoln School," she says.
ADAM LITTLEFIELD, 14, races from his last class at Curtis Corner Middle School in South Kingstown to the boy's locker room, where he throws on shorts and a T-shirt.
It's mid-May, the last week of track and Adam has to practice hurdles before next week's middle school state track championship. He's also in a relay race.
He runs over to David Pope, his favorite teacher and his wrestling coach for the past three years. This year, Mr. Pope is also helping to coach track.
They watch Adam's teammates hand off the baton for the first 100 meters of the 400-meter relay.
"That was their best one," Adam says, as the runners smoothly pass the baton.
"That's because I'm a good coach, Adam," Mr. Pope jokes.
When the relay practice is over, Mr. Pope gathers the runners.
"The last exchange wasn't clean," Mr. Pope says. "If you want to settle for mediocrity, we can end right now."
"No," Adam says.
The students head back out to the track.
"They've been working so hard all season, I don't want practice to end on that note," Mr. Pope says.
GIGI DeBARROS takes the envelope from her mother's hand and rips it open. Tiny stars cascade out and land on the linoleum.
"OOOHHHHH," Gigi says, her eyes racing across the page. "I got in!"
She begins reading the letter. "We are delighted to be able to offer Giovanna a place in our ninth grade class at Lincoln School. . . . " She breaks off. "And look, they gave me stars."
Gigi's mother leans over to read the letter, too.
"The admissions committee enjoyed reviewing her application for admission. We are confident that Giovanni will find Lincoln to be a place where she will develop a true love of and excitement for learning."
Gigi and Itati giggle. Itati begins collecting the fallen stars as the other sisters come into the kitchen to hear the rest of the letter.
"We ask that you sign and return . . . along with a $500 reservation deposit . . . " Gigi reads, frowning.
But Laura says, "Yes, yes," and urges Gigi to read on.
"Whoa, there's more. It's the financial aid letter."
Laura takes it from Gigi.
The letter says Gigi has been offered a full scholarship -- $21,450 for the coming school year.
JENN CALLAGHAN was in kindergarten when her parents divorced.
Teachers told her parents, Alan and Pamela, that Jenn would often cry in class. "We were very concerned about her," Alan says. "It was very hard, especially in the beginning."
Jenn switched schools a couple of times. When both her parents moved to Coventry, she began second grade at Hopkins Hill Elementary School. A speech and language pathologist, Sally Hubbard, was assigned to look out for Jenn and be her mentor. Every day, they would play a game or do an art project. If Jenn became upset, she was allowed to go to Sally's room and be with her.
The closeness between Sally and Jenn initially hurt Pamela, who felt threatened by another woman becoming so important in her daughter's life at such a difficult time.
But over time, both Alan and Pamela grew close to Sally.
"A lot of parents wouldn't have done that," says Sally. "But what they care about most is their children, and so they gave me space to be in Jenn's life. I have never seen a family do a better job [with a divorce] than they have done. The parents, the grandparents, everyone. These people know how to love."
When Jenn was in fifth grade, Sally asked Alan and Pamela whether Jenn could talk to a 7-year-old girl whose parents were splitting up. Sally later told Jenn's parents what advice their daughter had given the girl.
"Jenn was telling her, 'It's going to get better.' She was explaining, 'It's not your fault,' " Alan says. "Those are the things that make us proud."
CAR RACING is not cheap.
The used engine David Dennis bought for his go-cart cost $350. "He paid for it himself," his father says.
Dave Dennis is a contractor and David frequently helps him on jobs. David saves the money he earns.
"It took me a whole summer of working to pay for the engine," David says.
Besides learning the value of money, David's parents think his car hobby helps in other ways.
"I think it's great for him, because his love of cars probably made him interested in engineering," Claudette says.
David, an honor student at Gaudet Middle School, says he wants to go to Northeastern University and become a mechanical engineer.
Claudette earned a bachelor's degree in early childhood education -- knowledge that helped her when her sons were younger. But it hasn't been as useful since they entered adolescence, she says with a laugh. "Sometimes I feel like I'm in a whole new realm, out there in the dark," she says.
She doesn't have to push David and Daniel, who are both expected to go to college, to do their homework every night. "We've been lucky with that, honestly," she says.
But recognizing the boys' need for more independence and her reluctance to let go has been difficult. "I think we get frustrated with each other more," Claudette says. "I look forward to the day when we can both be adults, and more like friends."
Claudette says she has learned to back off -- at least a little. If David wants to go to a friend's house after school, sometimes she says yes, instead of the automatic no.
She's had less success with making David get regular haircuts. This spring, it has grown past his ears and into his eyes.
"This is one of those things where you just have to pick your battles," she says as she leans over to muss his hair.
"Mom, don't," David says as they both laugh.
ADAM LITTLEFIELD'S mother, Maureen, picks him up after track practice. He has just a few minutes to have a snack, then it's off to his piano lesson. The nights he has a baseball game, he changes into his uniform in the backseat of the family minivan, which is littered with tennis rackets and golf clubs.
Maureen says she is used to her two sons' hectic schedules. She spends most afternoons in her car, dropping off and picking up Adam or Tim, 17, from sporting activities, after she gets off work as an emergency room nurse at South County Hospital. Adam's father, Robert, is principal of Portsmouth High School.
Maureen drives Adam to a pizza parlor near Curtis Corner and he orders a slice of cheese pizza and a coke.
They talk about the last episode of Grey's Anatomy, which aired the night before.
"I fell asleep at 10:30," Adam says. "They had to wake me up and tell me what happened."
The Littlefields are allowing Adam to go to the local high school this fall, after considering sending him to Bishop Hendricken.
"As long as he keeps his grades up, he can go," Maureen says. "Adam has to work hard for his grades. It's a bone of contention, because with my oldest one, everything comes easily for him."
In late May, Adam was inducted into the National Junior Honor Society, just as Tim was when he was at Curtis Corner.
Adam is also hoping to go to Europe next year with the high school band; he plays trumpet and trombone, as well as piano. He has to earn half of the $4,500 cost, and is already thinking about saving money he makes from baby-sitting and from his summer job as a bus boy.
Adam's parents say they didn't push their sons to take on so many activities. "The music, that was all them," Maureen says. The family enjoys taking ski trips together in the winter, and because they live close to the beach, it is not surprising Adam and Tim enjoy swimming. Last year, Adam bought a boat and he and Maureen took Coast Guard safety classes together.
When Adam arrives at his family's home in Matunuck that evening, his Pomeranian greets him. "Hi Murphy," Adam says, scratching the dog's ears. Then he heads up to the bedroom he shares with Tim.
Adam's side of the room has a twin bed. His dresser is full of swimming trophies, a yo-yo rack that got more use when Adam was in elementary school, and bottles of cologne he splashes on before school dances.
Stuffed into the bottom shelf of the night table is a worn Winnie the Pooh bear.
"I got him the day I was born," Adam says. "I'll keep him. I'll probably take him to college with me."
AT FIRST, Gigi DeBarros floated when she found out she had gotten into Lincoln School.
Then she got nervous.
The girls there would be more advanced, Gigi thought. Maybe she wouldn't be able to keep up.
Worst of all, she wouldn't be with her closest friends in Pawtucket -- Brigid Fonseca, Sarah Estrela and Allison Logan.
She called her friend Amanda Frias, who started Lincoln School last year and encouraged Gigi to apply.
"I asked her stuff like, 'Am I that far behind? How will I catch up?' " Gigi says.
Amanda reassured her.
"She said I will be fine and I don't have to worry," Gigi says. "The teachers will help me."
She finally told her closest friends, most of whom will be going to Shea High School.
"They were really excited for me and they all want me to go," she says. "That made me want to go to Lincoln even more."
Gigi says she and her mother will go to Lincoln School in the next couple of weeks to sort out her schedule for the fall.
"It's all about my future," Gigi says. "I know that Lincoln will help me later on."
THE DENTIST snips off the last of the brace wires and Jenn Callaghan runs her tongue over her teeth.
"Oh, it feels weird," she says. Glancing over at her dentist, Jenn says, "Good job."
Dr. Craig Elice tells her to brush off the remnants of the glue at a sink and mirror in the hallway. Jenn keeps leaning into the mirror, checking out her teeth as adults talk around her.
"Try not to lose your retainer," cautions dental assistant Jean Verrier. "I know you want to have your Tootsie Roll today, and it should be fine, just chew on your back teeth."
Alan and Pamela walk down the hallway from the waiting room, and stop at the sink.
"Oh, wow. Beautiful, honey," Pamelaela says, leaning in to hold Jenn's face in her hands.
"It's a big difference," Alan says. "It's hard to get used to it."
The dentist rattles off directions.
"For the next six months, she needs to wear her retainer day and night, and only take it out to eat," he says.
After the movie, Alan and Jenn will stop by Hopkins Hill School to pick up Julianne. Alan says Jenn usually goes in to find Sally and say hello. Today, Jenn can show her old mentor her new metal-free smile.
When the family stops at the front desk to set up a followup appointment, the dental assistant hands Jenn a bright green plastic container.
"That's an extra retainer case," she tells Jenn.
She knows Jenn will need one for Pamela's house and one for Alan's.
Jenn smiles. "Thanks," she says, as she walks out the door with her parents.
jjordan@projo.com / (401) 277-7254
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