Quentin
I had to go to school this morning to "talk" with my classes. My sub called me Monday threatening to leave. Great. Now I'm not the best teacher in the world and I'm definitately not at the best school in the world, but I really like my kids and my job. But when the cat is away.....the mice where acting horribly. That's a whole other story though.
When I was teaching at Greenbrier, Spencer and I had been married only a couple of months when our Vice Principal lost his wife. They had been married 40+ years. That death took on a whole new meaning to me. He lost his spouse. Months earlier that would have touched me, but now that I had a spouse of my own, suddenly, it meant something very different. And if I could feel that way after four months - how multiplied would that feeling be after 40 years?
The same thing happened when Easton was born. Feelings are suddenly intensified. I can't listen to news stories about small children. Yesterday I heard a promo about some kids that were locked in a bathroom for almost five years. I turned the channel quickly. I don't want to know. It's too much.
Back to my band kids. As I was entering school today I saw some kid standing at the front doors of the school trying to get in. (Our doors are kept locked). The only reason a kid would be outside like that is that 1) He was tardy to school and coming in late or 2) He was skipping school outside and his buddy forgot to leave a door propped open so he could get back in. I naturally assumed the second. We were both buzzed in at the same time and I finally took a second to look at him. He had his face covered with a sweatshirt and was crying. And rightly so - because his shirt and pants were both covered with blood. He didn't have any shoes on. And then I noticed his face. It was Quentin. One of my band kids. 7th grade trombone player. Quiet, geeky little kid. Not perfect, but not "bad" by any means. He decided to cut school with some 8th graders that he didn't really know that well. They were out by the HS football field when the kids turned on him and beat him up. I don't know anything other than that. I'm sure there's more to the story. There always is. But that image of quiet, geeky, trombone Quentin won't leave my conscious because I see Easton in 10 years. Will he cut school to hang out with some "cool" kids he barely knows? I pray not.
I know this was meant to be a place where I share cute stories about my kids. But I needed to get this out.
1 comment:
Life lessons come in all shapes and sizes and with varying price tags. I feel certain that Easton will have his share of life lessons as he grows up. The best parents can hope for is that the price paid for these life lessons is not too severe. Anytime there is blood involved that is a pretty hefty price. Hopefully there is someone in Quentin's life, a parent, or a teacher, who can help him turn this event into a profitable learning experience.
Years ago I gleaned a piece of sage advice from a "Dear Abby" column. Her statement was "What a child does not learn at his Mother's knee is usually learned at some other low joint."
Quentin's experience at school today may turn out to be the most important lesson that he has learned all week, or year for that matter.
As for Easton, we can all hope, and prayer definately helps, but be prepared for a few bloody noses along the way.
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