I was unaware that middle school meant homework assignments for the parents too, but Ms. Bice said "In order to get a good picture of the students I am teaching this year [pretty sure there should be a comma there, but Ms. Bice didn't add one] I am asking each parent or guardian to write a short essay (1000 words or less) on their child.
So I did. And I thought I'd share it with you, dear Reader, because I liked how it turned out.
Patrick "Patch" Derks
He’s a good looking kid, you notice immediately as he walks
in. Light brown (or is it dark blonde?)
hair close cropped on his head like his dad’s.
Depending on his mood that morning, there might be some product in it,
to spike it up in a faux-hawk, or even a touch of red coloring across where his
bangs would be, if his hair was long enough for bangs. Which it isn’t. His glasses are constantly lower than they
ought to be and if his eyes didn’t smile so brightly, they might be hidden by
his frames. His smiles are wonders,
because they engage his whole face, and make him look as though he is about to
burst into laughter. Which he probably
is.
You might think he’s older than he is, because he’s tall for
his age, and has a presence about him. A
confidence. If the room was new, or the
people unfamiliar, there might have been a moment of hesitation, of
uncertainty, but you probably missed it, because it was only momentary. Now he is ready to begin and begin well.
You might think he is older than he is, because he is a conversationalist. He can ask about you, and tell you about
himself. He hasn’t just talked with kids
growing up, he’s talked with adults and isn’t intimidated by them. He knows he has interesting things to say,
and he’s interested in what you might tell him.
He’ll share with you his love of soccer (Manchester United in
particular, and though Wayne Rooney is his first love, the quiet constancy of
Robin Van Persie, the Dutchman, has won his heart away from the mercurial and
sometimes brooding Merseysider). He
loves to play too, and he’ll explain to you, though you might not understand,
the joy of the full volley or the bicycle kick that he tried in practice. Or his love of video games, especially the
open world builders, like Minecraft with its obsidian block and invisible
stones, and Disney Infinity which he is still learning. Or his fascination with cooking shows,
especially Good Eats because it’s about science too.
You might think he’s older than he is, because he’s more
empathetic than many adults will ever learn to be. He’ll stop and help up a child or ask an
adult how they are doing and care about the response. He’s unfailingly polite as well, with the
possible exception of toward his parents, and is likely to give you a hug as
well as a kind “good-bye” on the way out the door.
You might think he’s older than he is, but he really is
eleven. And he’s pretty good at being an
eleven year old boy. He’s kind of
disorganized, and his backpack will become the same rat’s nest that every other
eleven year old boy’s becomes by the middle of the first six weeks, no matter
their intentions to start middle school new and differently with a new
organizational ethic.
He’s eleven and he might burst into song, or tell a joke to
distract the class. He might be giggling
with the kid next to him about something funny that’s occurred to him about the
Jamestown settlers, or trapezoids, or square roots. He’s eleven and he’s forgotten his books and
his assignments and his lunch. He bought
cool new body wash this year that smells good, but you sometimes still have to
convince him to take a shower. He reads,
but you might never see him do it. “I
finished the Hunger Games,” he’ll say despite the fact you never saw it in his
hands. “Oh, yeah? Tell me about it,” you
might challenge. But you’d lose. He’ll not only tell you the entire plot and
most of the characters, but also be able to explain how the book differs from
the movie, and in the case of Hugo, how much better the book was.
He’s still just eleven and his confidence is hard won. His parents separated when he was only two
and a half and while he doesn’t remember too much about it, staying in a cold
overseas country with his dad and then leaving his dad behind for three months
meant figuring things out pretty quick.
His weeks are for his mom and his weekends for his dad and the hours in
transition belong to I-95. Life has
changed some over the last few years. He
was a pillar of strength while his dad was assigned to the US Embassy in
Baghdad and adjusted to his dad’s new apartment in Alexandria (further away
than the old apartment in Fredericksburg) without missing a beat. His mom moved too last year and he was lucky
to be able to finish out his school year at Mechanicsville Elementary, where he
had begun in kindergarten all those years ago.
But this is middle school.
A new house, a new step dad (same old dad, though), a new neighborhood,
and a new school. Enough to shake the
confidence of most kids and maybe even this one. But he’s willing to talk it out and knows
enough about the people in his life to be certain that they have his back. His
mom, his dad, his stepdad and stepsister, his grandmothers and grandfather, his
aunt and uncles, his cousins too. They
all have his back. So even if he doesn’t
know any of the people in front of him, he’s going to go out there and see who is
interesting to know. He seems older like
that.
