Kallan arrives home from school, her first day as a 6th grader, and she throws her backpack onto the counter, “Today was a day filled with learning, Mom.”
“Really? That’s good to hear. I assumed the first day would be all about lockers and schedules and getting to know your teachers.”
“Pshaw, Mom.”
“Pshaw?”
She reaches into the cupboard for a granola bar, takes a bite, “Want to know what I learned?”
I pour her a glass of milk, “Go ahead. Enlighten me.”
She smooths her blouse and skirt with disdainful fingers, “I learned that you are misinformed about the dress-code, because if today is any indication, we are totally allowed to dress like . . .” and here Kallan puts up little air-quote fingers to mock me, “whoretweens.” She takes a sip of milk, “So that’s good to know, because somebody who is named me was dressed like an idiot today.”
“Hmmm.”
She ignores me, “So tomorrow will mark the return of style and fashion-consciousness where Kallan is concerned.”
“We’ll see about that. What else did you learn?”
“I learned that whoever is in charge of hiring speakers to lecture and inspire the 6th graders perhaps does not know any 6th graders personally.”
“Why is that?”
“Because we had an assembly where some guy was supposed to motivate us to achieve our goals in life by telling us about how he learned to juggle.”
“OK, that sounds lame but not so bad.”
Kallan rolls her eyes, “Balls, Mom. Balls. Here’s the man talking as he tosses small balls to illustrate his story . . . First I just played with one ball and then when I got really good at controlling that one ball, I decided to see if I could handle two balls. So then I held one ball between my pinky and my ring-finger and the other ball in my palm and then I tossed them gently one by one until I was in complete control of juggling two balls, and then I was feeling pretty pleased with myself and I thought I had learned all there was to learn about balls and then my friend said that I had to learn to juggle three balls if I wanted to achieve my dreams . . . and then I achieved my dreams of triple-ball handling and fondling.”
I stare at Kallan, “OK, he did not say that last part.”
She shrugs, “Maybe not, but he might as well have. Everyone around me was giggling and being all inappropriate about how many balls the man could handle.”
“Huh.”
“And then he told a story about some girl he used to know who was always taking a shower at his house, and so then finally he got curious about why she was always taking a shower at his house and so he asked her . . .”
“Wait, he told a story about a strange girl taking showers at his house?”
She chews thoughtfully, “Maybe it wasn’t his house. Maybe it was a friend’s house. Or maybe it was a friend of his daughter’s. I forgot that part . . . suffice it to say that mysterious showers were being taken by a girl in a house that was not hers and this man was aware of the soapy nudity.”
“Go on.”
“So anyway, he finally asks this girl . . . what’s up with all the wrongly placed wet cleanliness . . . and the girl is all . . . OK, well the truth is I don’t have a shower because I live in a car with my drug-addict mother . . . and so then he’s all . . . that’s terrible . . . and she’s all . . . I know, right . . . and he’s all . . . what are your dreams . . . and she’s all . . . I dream of going to college . . . and he’s all . . . that is a fine dream . . . and she’s all . . . so can I take a shower . . . and he’s all . . . can I give you some money . . . and she’s all . . . my mom will just spend it on drugs because that’s how she is but thank you very much . . . and he’s all . . . there must be something I can do . . . and she’s all . . . perhaps you could not offer me money right after I ask to take a shower because that makes me sound all whoretweeny . . . and he’s all . . . have some cookies . . . and she’s all . . . thank you I do like macaroons . . . and then she went to college despite the fact that her mother drugged away all of the money and they had to live in a car and there was no clean water and she got all filthy and disgusting because it’s not like this guy could just continue to offer her free showers because that would verge on creepy but he did give her cookies and he got the satisfaction of being all inspired and motivated by her college-attending story,” Kallan pauses here to catch her breath and then continues in an official tone, “And so that, boys and girls, is why you should never give up on your dreams.”
I stare at Kallan, “OK, that cannot be how the story went.”
She shrugs, “Whatever. I can’t be bothered with details this early in the school year. That was the gist of it.”
“Huh.”
Kallan takes another drink of her milk, “Want to hear my takeaway message?”
“Your takeaway message?”
“Yeah, the main thing I learned from the assembly . . . want to hear it?”
“Sure.”
Kallan crumples up her granola-bar wrapper and tosses it in the garbage, finishes her milk, speaks casually, “Here’s my takeaway message: If you end up living in a car with your drug-addict mom, you should plan to shower at strange men’s houses and learn to juggle a lot of balls.”
I quickly move to cover my mouth with my hand, striving for calm through stifled giggles, “So 6th grade is going to be fabulous, apparently.”
Kallan snorts, “I know, right? So far, I am less than impressed. Less than impressed and less than motivated.”
She runs off into the afternoon, and I stare after her.
She yells from upstairs, “Hey, Mom? Did you do laundry? I need my bootie-shorts for tomorrow.”
Huh.
Kallan reappears, “Also, I learned that I am allowed to chew gum in all of my classes and also I am allowed to wear make-up. You were wrong about everything, Mom.”
Huh.
“I need more glitter mascara! Put it on the shopping list!”
Huh.
Also?
I caught up with newly minted 8th-grader Maj a bit later in the afternoon, “Hey, babe . . . Did you attend an assembly today?”
“Yes, Mother. You know the drill. Juggle your responsibilities. Work hard to achieve your dreams. Stay in school. Don’t do drugs. Blah, blah, blah . . . the usual boring stuff. Why?”
“No reason.”
Huh.
