So, kids are… inefficient communicators.
ZoomBoy got a note that said he should be at the awards ceremony tonight. “Oh, you’re getting an award?”
“I don’t know.”
“What in?”
“I don’t know.”
Mate and I had eyeball conversations. “He’s getting an award?”
“I don’t know.”
“What in?”
“I don’t know.”
But we went, right?
We’re thinking, “Well, his grades weren’t great, but he’s good in English? No. Hm. He did that thing in drama… But he didn’t get a medal. God, whatever. He’s getting an award. Yay, ZoomBoy!”
So I told my stepmom. I said, “Yes, you should see him dance, too. He loves being on stage so much–he looks so grown up. It’s freaky how disciplined he is with his body when he dances.”
“That’s impressive… he’s, uh… you know…”
“Made of elbows?”
“Right?”
So, anyway. Mate, me, Squish (because she had a feeling there would be food afterwards and she didn’t want takeout), and ZoomBoy. And we’re looking at the screen which tells us which kids should walk up in small groups for which awards.
And there’s his name.
Sophomore. PE.
Mate and I look at each other. “Really? He’s made of elbows! Our kid? I mean… OUR kid?”
But apparently he had a GREAT attitude and worked hard to do what the teacher told him to and only lost two points in March because he was cracking too many jokes.
He was the only 10th grader NOT to piss off his PE teacher, and we couldn’t be prouder.
“You like that medal?” we asked.
“Yeah.”
“You want to earn another one?”
“Yeah.”
“So… about that 2.8 GPA. Got ANY IDEAS HOW TO FIX THAT?”
“mmmm…aybe….”
Well, it’s a start.
It was, after all, a very important award.
