Old tricks.

We're two weeks into the new school year, and Hawthorne is already up to his old tricks. I met with his teacher yesterday to assure her that he's not the space cadet that he appears to be, but she probably knows that assertion is really just wishful thinking. That boy's head is in the clouds—both in the figurative sense and in the way in which he's always thinking about the damn weather instead of what he's supposed to be thinking about. In his very short time in 4th grade he has already lost two library books, forgotten his homework at school twice, forgotten to do the homework he actually brought home, failed to turn in forms, and misplaced the check for his planner. His teacher—who is an awesome fit for him btw—laughs that all these things I find unbelievably annoying are just signs of genius. That makes me feel only slightly better. Mainly because I'm glad she's not annoyed. I think his excellent performance on the FCAT last year has earned him a few get-out-of-jail free cards at school. His serious classroom demeanor and the recognition he received for his perfect FCAT score at last week's awards ceremony has convinced his teacher that he's just an absent minded intellectual. I think that could work for us. He's also in the gifted and talented program now, and I'm a firm believer in the power of labels. Once a child is labeled the smart kid, the trouble maker, the class clown... he takes on that role in his mind and the mind of others. And I'm not just making that up— ask the criminologists about labeling theory. Labeled a felon, always a felon. I'm of course going for labeled the smart guy, always the smart guy. He seems to embrace this, though there are a couple other labels he wouldn't mind embracing. He loves being known as the fast kid and the one with a good arm. If people started calling him the weather man, he'd probably think that was the greatest compliment ever. Whatever his label, that's my boy.

Cool guy.

Sport.

Fashionista.

Class clown.