Saturday, March 11, 2006


Mom called late Thursday evening to tell me of her night out with the girls. They went to see Brokeback Mountain. This was definitely not an issue I wanted to discuss at the moment.

"What's wrong? Why so quiet?"

And then I explained the series of events that led to the "boohoo-for-me" episode.

This was followed by a prolonged silence. I'm not a crying-type of guy. In fact, I can't even recall the last time I have cried. Middle school, maybe? Twenty plus years ago?

"Why the silence?" I asked.

I held my breath waiting for the response.

"I don't know what to say."

I have never heard my mother say those words... in my entire life.

After a bit more silence, I was basically "told" that I would be joining her for drinks, dinner, and a movie on Friday night. And reluctantly, I complied.

When I arrived at the house, exhausted, I was given a quick "no talking about work" lecture and then we were off for a fantastic dinner followed by seeing Capote. Ah. So nice to finally be distracted from school.

At this point, I'm pretty much fed up with the school and my students. I'm fed up with graduate school and all of their nonsense. I'm finished with the parents. You wanna bitch-n-whine when I call to tell you about the problems your child is experiencing? Fine. Let these problems grow and intensify. In a couple of more years, you'll be lucky to have someone keeping such a close eye on your kid. Stop giving me that odd "who is this little white guy look" when I call you in for a meeting to tell you that your boys is covered in gang colors every morning. Really, what do I know? You want to know about how many young men I watched get sentenced to prison when I practiced law? Or do you want to hear about my student from last year who got his faced slashed from his forehead to his chin as he was walking to school, late, and wearing his fucking colors? But, hey. At least he's not dead. So, all is cool. Right?

But guess what? I am going to keep calling. And sending you notes. And holding your boy for detention (all ten minutes of it, so says the DOE). Because maybe, just maybe, you or your kid will wise the fuck up.

*ending this post abruptly before I implode*


Anonymous said...

Your desire to help these children is admirable. Unfortunately, we cannot help those who do not want it. The way the children and their parents choose to live their lives is beyond your control.

You are not alone. Thousands of us feel as you do. We just have to keep fighting.

glenn said...

Don't implode. Things are at their absolute worst in March. I don't know why, but they are. I started reading your blog, and I can see from my super-professional perspective that you are helping your kids.

Kamika J said...

Amen to this post!