It’s hard to believe my baby is in the fourth grade. He had a very tumultuous two years, not just with school but with family as well and despite all that – he passed. He’s grown up in ways I didn’t think possible – strengths that only ordeals can shape. In that sense, you have to appreciate people who try to fuck your shit up and force you to prove that you don’t go down that easy.
For the first time since these boys started school, I was the nervous wreck on the first day – Zuki was ready. His group of buddies were standing in the line that was his class and he couldn’t be happier. When I took my fiftieth picture of him standing in line, he was thoroughly annoyed.
At the end of the week, he successfully brought home his homework assignments, the appropriate notebooks, pencil case and yes, his head too. A full week of school and no lost items. A far cry from the days he came home in his undershirt because he left his shirt “somewhere” in school.
From the boy who had no interest in doing anything but watch a movie, now he wants me to sign him up for the school orchestra and chorus in addition to the Hip Hop and Ballet classes he’s already got.
“Any other lessons you want to take this year?” I chided.
A light flickered in his eyes and he folded his hands as in prayer to plead his request, “Pleeeeease – can you teach me to how to drive?”