I was sitting home yesterday, nursing my cold. Phone rings. It’s my mom, telling me that D’s teacher has called, saying my nephew has been getting his “Dave Chappelle” on in class. Again. Can I tell ya’ll how irritated I am with this kid? How disappointed I am in his behavior lately? I’m scrambling trying to get him from behind the 8-ball of SAT/ACT, college choices, admissions, NCAA regs, etc. And dude is up in class acking (yeah – ACKING) a fool? I mean “all the way live”. Oh but no. He has clearly fallen and bumped his head.

Mind you, this same teacher alluded to his antics last week when my mom and I attended convocation for the senior class. She was telling us how well he does in terms of understanding the material, acing the tests, etc. You know how folks have a “BUT” in their voice? I heard it. A big one. So I asked what it was she was trying NOT to say. Mrs. Teacher-lady smirks at me and says that convocation isn’t the time/place for that discussion. I smirk back, drop two sugars in my voice and assure her that NOW is exactly the time/place because

(1) were it not, her approach to the conversation should have been different

(2) while I appreciate the pageantry of the day, it would serve no purpose if D wasn’t standing in line for graduation come June,

(3) it’s September; May is not waiting for any of us and

(4) if corrective action is needed, it would do none of us any good to wait any longer to roll up our collective sleeves and get the work done. (Yeah, I’d be hell on a school board or PTA, wouldn’t I? Ha! But I make one heck of an advocate for kids/education, don’t I?)

Now this conversation took place right after my nephew foolishly let me find in a crowded cafeteria that he’d been benched the week before. Huh? Benched? The co-captain of the football team? Did what? And not one word of this did my mother breathe to me at any point prior to D’s best friend’s mom letting it slip. (Yeah, my mom’s got a “ding” that day too.) If you think I waited until later to talk to him, you’re probably new to the blog. Otherwise, you know he got the ‘nice-sty’ dress-down with usage of his FULL birth name right on the spot. Yeah, I’m from the school of “Where-you-act-up-is-where-you-get-straightened-up”.

Yesterday? I was so through I couldn’t even talk. I’m sure my mom was expecting me to call D when he got home. Can’t talk to him at the moment. I don’t know how else to tell him that he’s making himself throwaway, disposable and I refuse to watch, participate, or jump into to rescue him.

I’ve reminded this kid on the regular that people do what they do for him because they love him, they know what he’s capable of, they have high hopes for him, and they refuse to let him become a statistic. I remind him that there are some for whom he is invisible unless he’s wearing that jersey. I remind him that there are some who could care less unless he’s plowing his way up the field with the pigskin under his arm. I remind him that some only see him capable of carrying that football while others see him with that degree in hand. I remind him of the danger of playing into stereotypes for ANYBODY, including his “friends”. I remind him that he is neither confined nor defined by his circumstances and that no matter how bad things seem for him in any given moment, if he can look up, he can get up.

My mother is relaying the recent episode of his pitiful comedy act to me. I can’t stir up any great emotion. See, my nephew and I talk ALL the time about “athletes gone wild”. We talk about the importance of education. (Years ago, his focus was on playing college football and hopefully landing in the NFL. As it was his dream, I told him I’d support him in that; however, MY main focus was on him earning his degree. He said, “Yeah so I can have something to fall back on” and I quickly assured him that a degree is never a “fall-back position” – it’s your FOUNDATION.) We talk about how people will show up to help him when he shows himself worthy and appreciative of that help. We talk about the people he will meet that will have the “I-got-mine-you-get-yours” attitude. We talk about how people help him not because they’re obligated but because they love him, they want the best for him.

Now, I’m chunking out money for SAT/ACT. Funding college road trips. Calculating costs for college applications, etc. Did I tell ya’ll I wasn’t working? Uh huh. But I do these things because…it’s what I do. I’ve even offered to pay for SAT/ACT for some other kids. Cause it matters to me. It also matters to me that you respect MY efforts and my funds.

But right now? I can’t talk to this kid. I really don’t know what to say to him. I don’t know what’s going on in his head. I can’t lie. I’m irritated. I’m scrambling, dealing with situations of my own, trying to figure out where my ends are much less how to make them meet, trying to put feet under my own dream. I don’t have the energy or coordination…or the inclination at this point…to juggle my dream and someone else’s.

I know my mother is expecting me to say I’ll come home to talk to him or I’ll call him later.

I don’t.

I won’t.

I recall all the times I’ve reminded this kid of who he is, what he’s worth. This time? I remind myself that I can’t save him or anyone else.

I tell my mother this, “Let him fall.”

Maybe that’s what he needs.

Maybe that’s where HIS faith will kick in.

Maybe that’s where HIS wings will be built on the way down from that fall.

That’s my prayer….

“Boy, n.: a noise with dirt on it.” ~ Not Your Average Dictionary ~