The Same Old Grind
My mother doesn’t even try to buy new school clothes for me anymore. When the Day of Torture finally arrives, I wear my rattiest T-shirt as a form of protest. I haven’t taken off the necklace from Lauren since she gave it to me, and I wonder if the gods will send down messages with answers to any pop quiz.
“Good-bye, Bodi, buddy.” I stick my face into his fur, hoping his comfy smell will get me through the day. I know I’ll be counting the minutes till I see him waiting by the door for me after school.
A lot of the kids look different than they did a few months ago: Robert Orlando got glasses, Peter Chapman has braces, and Maria Ramsey grew at least three inches. Ms. Williams waves at me from her desk and smiles. I guess things could be worse than having a teacher who plays softball, loves dogs, and appreciates rock and roll.
After morning meeting—when can we stop having those things?—Ms. Williams asks us to read our book reports out loud. When she calls my name, I head to the front of the room.
“Derek, did you read three of the books on the list?”
“Uhm…one of them.” I don’t tell Ms. Williams my grandmother read a big chunk of it to me. “And I think I’m a more interesting character than any of the kids in those books.”
“That might be hard to determine, since you read only one of them.”
“Good point.”
“Can you tell us about the one you did read?”
“I can do more than that.” I take my father’s laptop from my pack and bring up the animation we worked on last week. The stick figures act out the book I read, the story of a boy and his dog.
When it’s over, Ms. Williams wants to see it again, so we watch it one more time. She asks me questions about the characters, the setting, the plot, and I nail every one.
“Well,” she finally says, “you didn’t complete the assignment, but you definitely digested the book you did read. Between that and your animation, I guess we’re even.”
A few months ago, Carly would’ve been furious that I didn’t get into trouble, but now she smiles and gives me a thumbs-up. I can tell by Matt’s face he wishes he had done some extra work too.
“I learned a few other things this summer,” I continue. “That we all mess up sometimes and struggle with things that are difficult. That even if reading is hard, everyone needs stories. I didn’t want to read the books on the list, but I wound up surrounded by stories anyway—a heroic dog, a brave monkey who learned to help an even braver boy, a girl who drowned, and the friend she left behind.”
Ms. Williams leans back in her chair. “That’s a lot of stories for one summer.”
“That’s what I’m saying—they’re everywhere. I even met a woman who told herself a story about why her daughter died. It wasn’t a true story, but it was an important one to help her deal with the pain.”
I can tell some of the other kids are ready for me to sit down, but I keep going anyway.
“I also realized it’s in our nature to learn new things. And that even though they’re called permanent markers, they eventually do wear off. I also learned that avocados make messy cannonballs and monkeys can wear diapers.”
“Okay, Derek. On to Maria.”
“Also, if you spit into the wind on a ferry, it totally gets all over your face, and guys with muscles and Boston accents should not be tormented with poop.”
“Thank you. It’s Maria’s turn now.”
I slide into my seat, pretty proud of my report and animation project. I feel like a rock star until Maria takes out her laptop and presents a slide show she created to accompany all three books with music she wrote and performed on the cello in a dress she made during her summer sewing class.
As my mother always asks, “Does it ever end?”
No, I don’t think it does.
