My son, Luke, is 13 years old. He is in 7th grade, and he is learning to become a man, but still sometimes reverts back to the little, shy boy I remember from his bitty years. He’s becoming tall and angular, and he works out, and he is proud of his new, teenage muscles. He’s an athlete, and he loves soccer, basketball, and boxing on his new punching bag outside. I can see the man he is becoming, and I’m proud of him. But, he’s thirteen, prone to attacks on the frontal cortex that isn’t developed. He is always telling me he knows all the things about every thing. He swears he is mature beyond his years, but also loves batman with a ferocity of a five year old. He is the age of my students. Middle school at school and middle school at home is a new venture in my life. The hormones, the body odor, there is no escaping it.
As we scurry through the mornings of a school day, Luke is the first one up after me. Demands of breakfast, backpack, ‘don’t forget deodorant’ reminders fill the space. Last week, I was eating a bowl of cereal, going through our morning routine, my mind on something. His mind on the ferocious appetite and hunger that only comes from a little boy in full blown puberty. Why can’t we keep these boys full?! All of a sudden, I sucked a mini wheat into my lung pipe and started choking. You’ve been there. “This is it,” you think to yourself. I was literally choking, tears streaming down my face, trying to get it out. He is looking at me, pleading, “What am I supposed to do?” After some heaving, I will spare you the details. I was finally breathing again. In our family, we joke, a lot. Maybe too much. I looked at him and said, “I hope your Fortnite battle is going well.” As he was still holding his phone whilst staring at me. You know what he did next? He started crying.
“Luke,” I comforted, “I’m fine.”
“I didn’t know what to do,” he pleaded. “It’s not funny!” The few times he allows me to hold onto him these days, I do. I scratched his head while I comforted my little boy, and he let me. Reminiscent of the toddler who used to crawl up into my lap. So, my point is to all my educator friends is: whether they are 6 feet tall or 5’9, they are little bitty kids trapped in great big bodies trying to find their way. To find belonging. To find out who they are.
After a few days had passed, I looked at Luke and said, “Remember this 40 year old lady that almost choked to death?!”
“Still not funny,” he answered.
I was all, “When will it be funny? What do you need? A week? A month? Tell me!”
He said, “NEVER!”
God love him. Don’t blink. Soon I will be writing a blog about his High School Graduation, College, jobs, kids, you name it. Love you, Lukey!
And if ANYONE shows him this blog, I will deny having written it. #13yearsold
Katie Kinder 