About ten years ago I had a kid who just tore my room apart with his behavior. He was a mess. Smart as hell, but mouthy, and lazy and just off the chart disruptive. He spent a lot of time in ISS and suspended and generally broke my heart because I knew he had it in him to be more than he was.
And then he went to high school, joined JROTC and it changed his life. His sophomore year he came back and apologized to me and his other teachers for being such a jerk when we had him (and that, my friends, in 14 years, is the only kid who has done that). We've kept in touch, mainly through FaceBook, and now he's in the military, engaged to a nice girl, and is doing great. The turnaround was remarkable.
In any case, last week, I got a call from Principal Cool that an 8th grader was coming my way for the day and I recognized the last name and realized it was my former student's little brother. When I opened the door and took one look at him, there was no doubt. They are dead ringers for each other.
"So you must be Former Brat's little brother," I say when I introduce myself. "I had him about ten years ago when I was teaching science."
"Oh he was horrid, wasn't he?" Little Brother said. "I remember my parents always getting on him for stuff in school. He's in New York now, He's in the Army" he volunteered.
So I get Little Brother processed, get him to his station, he gets out his work (a much better student than his big brother was, I noted) and he gets to work after we talk a bit about why he was there and how his grades were doing.
And then I sent Former Brat a message telling him that his little brother had landed in my room. I figured he was at work, but thought he'd read it at lunch or something.
Ten minutes later, my phone dings. I look at the screen. "What's your phone number?" was what it said.
Oh boy. Someone is gonna get a phone call. I texted it back and five minutes later the phone rings.
"Hey, Mrs. Bluebird, it's Former Brat," he says. (It still cracks my up how my boys voices change so much after seventh grade).
"Well, gosh, it's nice to hear from you. Just wish it hadn't been under these circumstances," I respond.
"Can I talk to Little Brother please?" he says.
"Of course," I say, and I hand Little Brother the phone.
The look on his face was priceless. The look on the other kids' faces was nearly as good as you could almost read their minds. (Crap! She knows his older brother? Wonder if she knows mine?)
Little Brother then spent about ten minutes on the phone getting his ass chewed out by his big brother (whom it was quite apparent he idolizes). He was not enjoying the conversation at all. At the end he handed it back to me.
"He wants to talk to you," he said.
So we chatted a bit, he wanted me to text him a report at the end of the day about Little Brother, and said our goodbyes.
I looked at Little Brother.
"Got your butt chewed, eh?" I said.
"Yeah," he responded. "You didn't hear that did you? Because if you did, I'm sorry. He drops the F-bomb a lot,"
"No, we didn't hear that," I assured him.
"Are you gonna tell him I was good?" he asked.
"Maybe. Depends on if you are or not."
"I'm gonna be," he said. "He's gonna call Dad tonight, too."
Little Brother was awesome. Former Brat got a text. I even told Little Brother, on his way out the door at the end of the day, that he was a lot better than Former Brat ever had been.
That earned me a smile, and dang, if he didn't look just like his older brother with that big toothy grin!
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