But I can't help it. I'm proud. Channer, my youngest son, has given me a pleasant surprise, and I can't help but share it. Allow me to back up a bit...
Channer has always had difficulty in school (saying mean things, breaking rules, talking out of turn, threatening others---you name it, he's done it). While all of these things have caused each of us our grief over the years, what's always bothered me most is that Channer is really a smart boy. In fact, I believe a part of him knows that, but then another part shouts him out onto some ledge, where he becomes paralyzed or angry or prideful or all of the above, and he won't even try in school because anything less than perfect is a complete reflection of himself. And he can't be less than perfect. He has an image, you know.
In any case, this year -- in 6th grade of all grades -- he seems to be trying. He wants to do well. I have no idea why or what happened or how this change came about. I'm just glad. Anyway, yesterday he needed my computer to type up a "stupid poem" he wrote.
While he was typing it, if I even walked around my desk, he'd cover the screen. It took a bit, but finally I convinced him to let me read it. This was what I found:
I Am Poem
I am a boy who is good at skateboarding and eating.
I wonder what happens after you die.
I hear my dead dog breathing.
I don’t know where I see myself when I’m older.
I want a Lamborghini.
I am a boy who is good at skateboarding and eating.
I don’t pretend.
I feel like going to sleep all the time.
I don’t touch imaginary things.
I worry about my grandpa.
I don’t cry.
I am a boy who is good at skateboarding and eating.
I understand who I am.
I believe in skateboarding.
I dream about skateboarding in hot sauce.
I try to skateboard.
I hope to become a pro skater.
I am a boy who is good at skateboarding and eating.
*****
I couldn't resist posting it on Facebook, as well -- hence the doubling-up.
Maybe...well, I won't say any maybes just yet. But I'm pretty stoked. You might say I'm a bit whacked for finding hope in this seemingly dark poem, but I'm stoked because I know that even in darkness there's a light inside of him...hope. If there was no hope, he wouldn't write this kind of poem. And some of the lines? Wow. That's my kid.
7 comments:
I always knew you were a better mother than you give yourself credit for and knew someday your boys would begin to realize it as well.
Well, thank you, Kevin. I suppose parenting is like writing; once we start to think we're doing everytihng right, we stop growing and getting better.
I remember my dad telling me that parenting is a thankless job for about 20 years or so. I just hope that my boys know that even though I make many mistakes and at times seem to be missing the "mommy" gene, I'm here and I care.
PS: I'm an excellent speller. ;)
That's a wonderful poem! You certainly passed on the writing genes :)
I just checked, and Northern's library has Frederick Seidel's "Going Fast." You should consider handing it off to that kid of yours so he can have his second poet-mentor.
All he writes about is eating ridiculous food, having sex, traveling, and riding $60,000 motorcycles.
"Combine a far-seeing industrialist
With an Islamic fundamentalist
With an Italian premiere who doesn't take bribes
With a pharmaceuticals CEO who loves to spread disease.
Put him on a 916.
And you get Fred Seidel."
or
"Chauveron cut
The wine-red meat off the carcasses.
His duck press was the only one in New York.
He stirred brandy into the blood.
While we watched, Elaine said, "Why do we need anybody else?
We're the world."
Way to be a great mom.
Well, how cool of you to check, Eric. I'll have to slip it to him in some secret way. You know, he's a sk8er guy ... reading poetry's *so* uncool. Though, I know he loves things he's not ready to admit to others. Which is okay for now.
And that's sweet of you to say, Elizabeth. (I was wondering about you the other day...I hope you're well!)
Well, someday if poetry *is* cool,
Check this out:
Virginia B Ball Creative Writing Competition
It's a competition for a $30,000 scholarship to Interlochen.
I came across it this evening and thought of this poem!
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