Brilliant … But Bouncy

What Could He Say?

Dear New Media Center Specialist,

I am the parent of an 8th grader, Shane, who was at the morning show meeting yesterday. He came home with information about the many, many changes made to the show. I realize that you weren’t at Wood last year, so I’d like to give you a little background on what the show was like previously.

Both of my kids worked on the morning show. My son, Shane, showed up bright and early every day for two full years. He trained on the technical equipment and learned to use every, single machine in the booth. He was one of only two 8th graders who were coming back to the ‘tech’ side of the morning show this year – and as such, Shane was promoted to the position of Student Director – which was scheduled to start when he started 8th grade.

THIS was going to be Shane’s year to direct the show. He had worked exceptionally hard for the title, and had waited two full years to get there. And every day, while working under other directors, Shane was reminded that 8th grade would be HIS year. The adult leader confirmed it: in 8th grade, Shane would finally have his chance to direct, to be a leader, and to promote the positive feelings that have always been associated with Wake Up Wood.

And the positive feelings in previous years abounded. morning show was a way of life for these kids. They got up early and went to school way before their classmates. They set up the show, made the graphics and video openings, found and played songs, ran cameras, created captions – they produced, anchored, directed.

The feelings of self-esteem that arise from putting together a show like that every day … they can’t be expressed in words. These kids DID SOMETHING GREAT.

And now that is gone. Without warning and without any recognition for the kids who have worked so hard, it was announced in an informal meeting that it’s over. Decades of tradition, plus two years of hard work, were simply erased.

An extra 20 kids or so went to the meeting – students who had never stepped foot in the morning show booth. The whole school was invited and encouraged to join the ‘new’ show. Meanwhile, the kids who spent two years preparing for their time to shine were simply ignored.

Shane, the director, sat among the other students, unable to speak. What could he say? When he came home, he was so upset – not only because he was losing his leadership role, but because the whole show was just … GONE.

Will these 8th graders get any recognition at all? Couldn’t they have some kind of leadership role in the new morning show? They certainly had no choice in the change of format. What do they get for their two years of early morning hard work?

These 8th graders could be your leaders, your assistants, your “directors.” Is there anything – anything – that can be done for the few who worked so hard for so long?

I would really appreciate any feedback on this. And again, I am sorry to meet you under these circumstances. You weren’t here for any of the history. You aren’t responsible for the loss of a decades-long tradition.

But maybe you can do something. I am hoping that you will.

All Of My Teachers Are Great.

The first day of school went off without a hitch. Dylan made it to his bus on time, and Shane got there way early.

Best of all, they came home almost happy.

Shane was thrilled to have a lot of friends in his classes. (Last year, he had one friend in one class.) As he often does, he details his day in chronological order, letting me know about the kids, the teacher, and what they did. By the end of our chat, I almost had Shane’s schedule memorized.

I am thrilled that he has friends in his classes. One of his teachers remembered Shane from sixth grade, and actually chose Shane to run the PowerPoint for the class.

I picked Shane up from school, since it was a special occasion, and he talked all the way home. He went into the office with me and talked to me in the office for half an hour. By the time his dad, and his grandfather, asked him about school, he’d already talked about it so much, he was talked out. He told me about his science teacher, how he really liked him at first. Shane shared an interesting discipline tactic that his science teacher used, one that silenced the whole class. I explained the possible reasoning for the technique. It seems as though Shane’s teacher is subtly gaining respect from his class. Brilliant!

I am just happy that Shane is still talking to me, now that he’s in 8th grade.

We filled out his paperwork together and organized it to send it back to school. He had homework, which he did immediately. Shane may not love school, but he sure knows how to do it successfully.

Meanwhile, I texted Dylan and asked him if he wanted a ride home, but he didn’t respond. I texted him two more times with no response. I called his cell phone – no answer.

Dylan took the bus home.

Finally, I called him on the home phone while I was standing in Shane’s school’s parking lot, and he answered.

“Dylan!” I said gleefully.

“What?” he grumbled.

“Well, I was just wondering about your day,” I said.

“It was fine,” he said. “But now I’m really irritable.”

“Eat a snack,” I told him. “At least, get a drink.” Dylan gets grumpy when he’s hungry, but he doesn’t eat and then wonders why he stays grumpy.

After hearing about Shane’s day, I went up to Dylan’s room where he was electronically chatting with someone.

I plopped onto Dylan’s bed. He looked up from his electronic device. I smiled at him. He looked back at his tablet.

I waited.

He looked at me again. I smiled again.

“What?” he grumbled.

I looked at the clock. I had waited almost eight hours to ask. “How was your first day of school?”

There was a brief pause. Then Dylan said, “All of my teachers are great.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “Really?!”

“Yep,” he said.

“What about your precalculus teacher?”

“Why are you singling out that one?” he asked.

“Because math teachers are notoriously awful,” I said.

“Half of the math teachers at school are the worst teachers ever,” Dylan said. “And the other half are, like, chill. I got a good one.”

Absolute music to my ears.

I asked him a few other questions about his day, and all of his answers were positive. He even said that he introduced himself to his teachers! I’d been asking him to do that since sixth grade, and – perhaps – he finally did.

So everyone is happy.

Mostly me.

But What About These?

On the first day of school for the new school year, Shane got his shower before Dylan got out of bed. Shane had his clothes out the night before, chosen with care weeks ago. He was dressed and brushing his hair before Dylan even got out of the bathroom.

Dylan raced downstairs with only three minutes for breakfast. He scarfed down some oatmeal, put his strawberries in his pocket, grabbed his cell phone and his coffee and headed out the door for the bus stop. I totally forgot to give him his hard-boiled egg.

Shane made his own breakfast, because I wasn’t ready for him when he got downstairs. He was finished eating 15 minutes before we needed to leave. He remembered to wipe the table, put his lunch into his brand new backpack, got his picture taken – then stopped.

“There’s one more thing I have to do before we leave,” he said. Shane went into the office and paged the calendar back to June. “I have to find out what I did all summer, so when people ask me, I can tell them.”

It was quiet in the office for a minute while Shane browsed. We’d spent four days a week with four-hour “no electronics” restrictions – so we’d scheduled things to compensate for our electronics “loss.”

“What are you finding?” I asked.

“I was the mascot a lot,” he said, referring to his many nights dressed as a baseball-loving dog. “And I went to camp, Shakespeare in the park, met Mary Downing Hahn, and hung out with my friends and my cousins. And in the last two weeks, I’ve gone to a water park and an amusement park.”

He didn’t mention our kayaking trip, our hours and hours of family board games, our two trips to upstate New York, his volunteer stints at two different schools, our weekly at-home movie nights, or the Renaissance Festival – which we’d just done the day before school started. And….

“You’ve done a lot of stuff,” I said. “But what about these?”

I took some papers off of our refrigerator, with two dozen pictures of summer activities. Shane and Dylan had specifically chosen the things they wanted to do during vacation – most of which we’d actually accomplished.

In addition to what Shane found on the calendar, we saw five movie matinees, went swimming, went out for ice cream (too many times to count), fed the ducks, visited the grandparents, mini-golfed, went to the park, had a picnic, and visited the Corn Beef King food truck. We had a campout in the backyard, went to the National Zoo, visited an interactive art museum and went tubing down the Shenandoah River.

Dylan also went to music camp, toured D.C. three times (on segways and on foot), started learning to drive, spent a week repairing a house in the Appalachian Mountains, worked as an usher at an outdoor concert venue, and started his fall touring of select colleges.

But Shane didn’t do any of those things – so he saw a few extra movies, mini-golfed again, and went to a ping pong tournament, Adventure Park and the Newseum instead.

I was feeling sad about summer’s ending – until Shane reminded me how much we did.

To say the “no electronics” rule inspired us to do more would be an extreme understatement.

We may have done a little too much.

The Peaceful Deer Was Panicked.

Because we live close to a small patch of woods, and there is nowhere else for them to go, deer live in my yard.

They wander the yard, eating grass and leaves, like the local rabbits do. In spite of the fact that this only happens because humans have taken over their once pristine land, it’s like a little slice of heaven for me to see them out there.

We are fortunate enough that we’ve seen several fawns born over the years, too. We have a little spotted one out there now, just born a month ago, who roams the yard with her mother.

Mother and daughter are often separated by a hundred feet or so, while one munches on a tree and another searches for clover in the open yard. I often think about that hundred feet, and wonder how the deer allows it when the fawn is so incredibly young.

There are predators – foxes, mostly, who don’t stand much of a chance – and people driving by in their deadly cars and trucks. When I was pregnant with Dylan, I was driving home from work one day and saw a tiny fawn dead on the side of the road. I cried for three weeks at the thought of the mother searching for her baby – or worse, finding him there, so young and helpless.

But yesterday was a different story.

Mom and baby were peacefully eating – mom in our front yard, and baby on the other side of the driveway, in the woods. We have a very long driveway. Suddenly, loud and large, a truck roared down the driveway – and the adult deer didn’t have time to check on her baby before it came.

The adult deer was stuck between my house and the truck. And she went crazy, jumping and running across the yard, scared by the noise and size of the vehicle. She looked like a bucking bronco on her way into a rodeo. She wanted to get away from the truck – but I think she also wanted to make sure her baby had gotten away from the “predator.”

And she couldn’t see the other side of the driveway.

The truck took its time turning around, heading down the driveway in reverse, then beeping slowly backwards as it went. It was long and too slow-moving for her liking. She couldn’t do anything except wait, and jump, and run back and forth.

So that’s what she did. The peaceful deer was panicked.

Finally, the truck went out of view – allowing the mother to leap over the driveway and search for her baby. Both were fine, since no one jumped directly into the truck’s path.

From my window, I could see clearly that everything would be okay.

But Mama Deer? She was losing a grip. She nearly put herself into an early grave, she was so terrified.

Where’s my baby? Is my baby okay?

While I watched the deer jumping around, I felt sad. I wanted her to relax and know that her baby was fine, down in the woods, eating leaves. I wanted to go out and pet her, calm her down, let her know it would be okay. But I knew she had to get through it on her own.

I wonder sometimes if that’s how God feels.

Every Week is Plagued by Something Dark.

Once a week, we have Family Movie Night.

This started when I realized that, after having kids, Bill and I no longer enjoyed our Friday nights eating pizza and relaxing, as we’d done previously. So we reclaimed the tradition, and it’s stuck for many years.

Now that the kids are old enough, everyone gets to choose what we watch. We alternate weeks, with each person choosing a movie appropriate for the whole family. Unfortunately, now that Shane is 13, this means that the entire PG and PG-13 world is available to us all.

Being the only female in this new movie world is tough. Here is a sample of what can happen:

Week 1 – Bill’s choice: War Games

Week 2 – Kirsten’s choice: Freaky Friday

Week 3 – Dylan’s choice: The Bye Bye Man

Week 4 – Shane’s choice: Captain America: The Winter Soldier

Week 5 – Bill’s choice: Austin Powers

Week 6 – Kirsten’s choice: The Princess Diaries

Week 7 – Dylan’s choice: The Dark Knight

Week 8 – Shane’s choice: Poltergeist

Note that every week is plagued by something dark, except mine. There is either suspense or dark humor, or downright horror. The Bye Bye Man was particularly awful, but somehow it still kept me up at night for a long time.

Last week, Shane’s choice was Killer Clowns From Outer Space. Does it get any darker than that?

It’s gotten to the point where I’m actually considering forcing the children to watch the Disney movies again, except Bambi which I cannot handle, so that I don’t have to resort to things like Lassie Come Home and Sounder. I’ve actually reached the point where I – briefly – considered Sounder.

Instead, I am slogging forth. This week, it’s my turn and I am deciding between Queen of Katwe and Lion. I always look forward to my week.

But I’m not sure the boys do.

Shane Was Never Deterred.

When Shane was younger, he was a magician. He didn’t just have a kids’ magic kit (like I did) – he actually studied magic. From the time he was eight years old, he was obsessed with learning everything he could about magic. Sleight of hand tricks were his favorites, and he got pretty good at them – for an eight-year-old.

Shane studied and studied, practiced and practiced. We went to dozens of magic shows, everything from birthday party entertainment to Vegas showmen. Shane befriended all the local magicians, many of whom are quite serious about their craft.

As he got older, Shane learned more and more tricks. He did shows at home. I was his volunteer (i.e., guinea pig) for more tricks than I could ever count. He would do a trick, and it would bomb. And then he would do it again, often accidentally explaining how the tricks worked. Sometimes he told me his secrets on purpose, because he thought it was just so cool.

When he was 11 or 12, he started doing appearances at local magic shows. He became a magician’s apprentice and worked as his opening act – and sidekick. They performed together every few weeks at a nearby magic shop, which also featured a stage. Teo, the adult magician, shared his secrets with Shane, who grew rapidly.

Magic isn’t a booming business. In fact, it seems to be rather a dying art.

But Shane was never deterred. He worked and studied and practiced and learned more and more and more.

Then one day, when Shane was supposed to do his apprentice act on stage, Teo got into a car accident on his way to the show.

I wasn’t even with Shane – I’d seen him perform so many times – but Teo called me from the hospital.

“Could Shane could do an entire show alone?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said. “He’d love that.”

So, at barely 11 years old, Shane got up on that stage and did an entire show. It was a short show, with a limited audience that included mostly friends and family. But Shane did a fine job of entertaining.

Then Shane went home, slept, woke up – and never did magic again. After three years, he just stopped.

Until now.

Years have gone by and, quite suddenly and without warning, Shane is learning new card tricks at an alarming rate.

And he’s good. The tricks are good. He’s older, and wiser, and quicker, and more able to “wow” people.

I don’t know what to do.

I guess I have a magician in the family again.

I’ll Help Out and Pay For Stuff.

It isn’t often that we get a chance to impart a life lesson on our kids about money. But now, we have that chance.

We are not well-off, but we are not suffering through poverty. (I did that in my youth; I know what it’s like.) Our kids, however, get to do a lot and they pay for very little. Dylan, in particular, believes he is very careful with his money because he rarely spends anything – and when he does buy something, it’s usually cheap.

Dylan is so careful with money, in fact, that he’s saved a ton of money just by not spending anything.

Then he got a real job.

This summer, working part-time, he made about $700. He went to the mall a few times, but his grand total spent at the mall (all summer) was probably less than $100. However, he bought two concert tickets in June, which cost more than $100. Then he bought two more concert tickets for $130.

So his net profit for working all summer isn’t that high.

Now, just before school starts and without any upcoming work, Dylan’s friends are coming into town for a few days.

These friends are online friends – a couple of sisters who Dylan has never met in person. They got some cheap plane tickets and are flying in from Louisiana.

“It would really help them out if we could pick them up from the airport,” he said – notifying us for the first time of the concrete plans that were forming around him.

“What?” I said. “You want me to do what?” He didn’t seem to understand the enormity of what was about to happen.

These girls bought plane tickets with no intention of renting a car when they got here – and Dylan expected us to pick up the slack for their five-day vacation.

Dylan told them, “I’ll help out and pay for stuff.” He said maybe he could help pay for the hotel.

This did not go over well with us, since we know how expensive “stuff” can be.

The girls decided to stay in a cheap hotel room nowhere near the airport or near our house. When we explained the hazards of drug deals gone bad in that city, I was able to find them a place to stay that is equally cheap – but much nicer – on AirBnB. (This site is a Godsend; who knew?)

Then we talked about the things we were planning to do for the weekend. The state fair and the Renaissance Festival – admissions costs alone are upwards of $50. We decided that we will not be doing anything fun while Dylan’s friends are in town.

Even without planned activities, people need to eat. No one had even considered food. Coming from a rural area in Louisiana, these teens are going to have extreme sticker shock.

Bill tossed $100 at the problem, changed their airplane tickets to something more manageable, and directed them to stay three days (cheaper) instead of five. We worked with them to get the plane tickets changed and the AirBnB room reserved.

Still, Dylan has volunteered to “help you with whatever you need.” If only he knew how much that “help” is going to cost him. What’s left of his summer earnings is as good as gone.

He has to learn sometime. It may as well be now.

Maybe next summer, he’ll be able to earn some more money. And maybe at the end of next summer, it won’t all be gone.

I Thought a Summer’s Worth of Practice Would Be Helpful.

I made the mistake of mentioning “school” to Dylan. It doesn’t start for two more weeks.

Since 10th grade finished, Dylan has been on a quest to show me how responsible he is. He’s been great with letting me know when he’s ready for work – and being ready on time. He’s planned ahead with friends and asked in advance when he wanted to spend time with them. And he’s done his work around the house, mostly without being reminded.

And we’ve rewarded him by letting him do nearly everything he wants to do, whenever he wants to do it. He’s even learning to drive.

But also on his list of responsibilities were two things: summer homework and SAT practice. Those things have somehow slipped his mind.

So this week, it rained a lot and we didn’t have much to do. So I told him to finish his summer homework, and to do some SAT practice. You’d have thought I was asking him to pull out his toenails with a tweezer.

Eventually, though, after repeated arguments about how I only care about his future and not his present, Dylan finally buckled down and did the work.

Somehow I thought this responsibility thing would translate to the school year. I thought a summer’s worth of practice would be helpful.

But it’s not going to translate. I thought he’d wake up earlier in the mornings, make himself a healthy breakfast, remember his vitamins and coffee, and head out the door with a grin because he’s finally making all A’s and maybe one B.

But that’s not going to happen. He absolutely detests going to school. It doesn’t matter how much it means for his future to do well this year.

The only thing that matters to Dylan is how he feels right now. It is the classic characteristic of immaturity and irresponsibility.

I’ll be surprised if Dylan actually gets all the way through 11th grade. And it hasn’t even started yet.

He’s Actually Joking.

All summer, I have been wondering if I’ve misjudged Shane. Maybe “disorder” doesn’t suit him at all.

While many characteristics of a nonverbal learning disorder still fit him, they are all positive attributes. He has a fantastic memory with exact recall in many instances. He’s highly skilled in reading and writing. And he’s got a tendency to take things very, very literally.

He takes things literally even when common sense dictates otherwise. That’s what worried me.

I keep thinking about the time that Shane was “helping” Bill change a light bulb in the garage. Bill handed Shane the old light bulb and said, “Just toss that over there.” And Shane tossed the light bulb in that general direction, causing the light bulb to shatter into a billion pieces on the garage floor.

When someone takes something that literally, doesn’t that mean there’s a problem? Nonverbal Learning Disorder seemed to nail it – a minor issue, but one that explained Shane’s inability to discern for himself that the light bulb would break if he “tossed” it.

However…

I’ve spent a ton of time with Shane this summer, and we’ve talked a lot. He is incredibly funny with a very dry wit. Lately, he’s also started memorizing very bad jokes – and sharing them in spite of my resistance. (This isn’t why he’s funny.)

Most interesting, Shane has been starting to figure out things that, in the past, would have completely baffled him. And he’s admitted to me that he knows more than I thought.

Shane recently said, “Whenever I say things that sound like I don’t know what I’m talking about, that’s when I’m kidding.”

Just the fact that he can identify and tell me when he’s kidding is new. He used to say, “I don’t really mean to be funny.” But now he is recognizing how his sense of humor is making others laugh.

For example, I might say, “I’ve been on the computer since 8:00. It’s the only thing I’ve done all day.”

And Shane might respond with, “You did a lot more than that today, Mom. You sat on a chair, too.”

A year ago, I would have explained to Shane that the word “only” in my sentence wasn’t meant to be taken literally. And he would have said, “But you did sit on a chair.” It would have required additional explanation about how sitting was implied in my original statement.

But some time has passed, and Shane now admits that these kinds of statements are just jokes. And he admits it honestly – not as if he’s trying to cover his tracks. He’s actually joking. It’s just in such a dry-witted way that many people might miss the joke.

In fact, many people do miss the joke. And the “why” of that is very hard to explain to Shane. But he is starting to understand that, too.

He’s still concerned that I don’t always use verbatim quotes in my blog posts. When I explained the nature of “creative nonfiction,” Shane surprised me again.

Shane said, “Actually, as soon as we hear something, our brains take the words and filter them. So no one can remember exactly what people say, just the way they said it.”

He’s right, of course.

But just his knowing the difference between exact and vague, and his knowing the difference between literal and figurative… This is new, and something I haven’t seen from Shane in years past.

He’s figuring out the way words work, and responding appropriately, and putting it all together into a cohesive, manageable format in his head.

He’s doing it – and it’s awesome.