Mom Is a Daredevil Too

The teacher was irritated, using her angry voice. He yelled at me and hurt a kindergartener. She wanted me to do this that and the other. Things I never do as the counselor. I am not punitive, and do not discipline anyone. I try to discover where the pain is coming from. He is a delight. Knows much more than any first grader I know. Tells me about his family – six boys from age four to eighteen. He is hurting because his brother broke his foot in karate yesterday. He knows this is why he was angry. He was trying to help the kindergarteners break up a fight. Because he helps his four-year-old twin brothers. They were not fighting, he tells me, but I thought they were. I tell him to let the teachers handle it next time. He says he will try. His stories are delightful – all boys in his family are daredevils. I ask, “Is your mom a daredevil?” Oh, yes! She has tattoos all over, one is a skull with wings. Sounds lovely I lie. Dad’s not a daredevil, he says. But he used to be. How do you know? He had a mohawk and played rock and roll on the drums. Dad has a new job at Target. They can get free things now. Do you mean a discount? No. I mean free things. I do not go any further into this story. Because he has switched to tales of animatronics and theme parks We live at Lake Turtle Mouth, he says. The theme parks there are under the water. The last thing he tells me is “This is my second time in first grade by the way.” He says it matter-of-factly. His confidence is impressive.