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“There is. Rex seems bored with what I’m teaching. That’s expected with such an advanced learner. But the issue comes when the other students are struggling with the work. Or they’re having trouble with a concept that he’s mastered quickly. He tends to roll his eyes. Or sigh in a very condescending way.”
“Hm…”
“He actually called another student aplebeian,” she informed me. “I wasn’t sure was that was, but a quick Google search confirmed that it was an insult. I had to send him to time out.”
“Interesting.”
“So I think what I’m trying to say is…”
“My son is a snob?” I asked, bluntly.
She looked like she was going to agree for a moment, then caught herself.
“I… I wouldn’t say it like that,” she said. “I don’t mean to alarm you. I know that this is just childish behavior. I’m sure this is something he’ll grow out of. But… I hate seeing kids set themselves up for… social problems.”
“Yeah. I worry about that.”
“I don’t want him to be a target for bullies. Not that there are bullies in first grade. Perks of being this age is that they haven’t figured out ridiculous ways to hurt each other yet.”
“Give it time.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” she mused. “But I also don’t want him tobethe bully.”
“Huh?Rexis the bully?”
“That might be a bit of an extreme way to say it, but… he does bully the other students a little.”
“That’s genuinely surprising. I mean, I knew he was a little snotty, but I didn’t think he was an all-out bully.”
My son was smaller in statue, completely uncoordinated, and wore thick glasses. He insisted on only wearing shirts with collars. He hated playing outside. He did math homework for fun. He used words far beyond the vocabulary of the average six-year-old. I knew he’d be targeted as he got older. As soon as he opened his mouth and told someone that it waslieand notlayorwhominstead ofwho, he was going to get punched.
What I didn’t expect, however, was that he was going to be the one hurting other kids. That wasn’t okay.
“I’ll, um… I’ll talk to him,” I finally said to Mrs. Tupper. “I definitely don’t want my son growing up thinking it’s okay to pick on other people for their intellect.”
In other words, I didn’t want my son turning out like his father.
She nodded, understanding. “At this age, the kids aren’t really aware of how they come off. He’s not hurting anyone irreparably.
But he might have an easiertime making friends if he just…”
“I know what you’re saying. If he just chilled out.”
“I don’t want him to feel that he has to dumb himself down.”
“Of course not,” I told her.
“He’s quite unapologetic about who he is and that’s a remarkable, wonderful thing.”
“It is.”
“We just… we need to find a balance.”
“Balance. I can do that.”
I got backin the car, but instead of going back to my new condo, I headed back to the house. Not our house. Desmond’s house.
Because I found out during the divorce proceedings that even though he swore up and down that he was adding my name to the property, he never did. I should have figured out that he wasn’t going to keep his promise when no paperwork ever turned up for me. Fuck, I still remember how that conversation went.
