Assaulter vs. Swim Victim -- What It Is to Be 12
I know that twelve is no longer a child. But I haven’t felt it in my gut until two
things happened in Stamford in
recent weeks.
One, a sixth grader, violently beat a Hispanic man so badly
he almost lost his eye. Then, sadly, a sixth grader drowned at Cove
Island .
I guess that, more than anything, shows the betwixt and
between of this strange age. How a
child, yes, a child, could so assault a man – could want to
assault a man – that the victim could almost be blinded, made me I realize how
far I have to go, to truly understand this age.
Allegedly, this child was in a gang but he was still in
sixth grade, my son’s grade. I’ll admit
I hurriedly tried to find out what middle school he went to. But, as a friend
said, he probably didn’t go to school.
Then I thought about the young man who thought he could beat
the current at Holly Pond where it flows down over the rocks into Long Island
Sound. I could see him, laughing and
happy with his friends, and maybe underestimating, just a little, his ability
to swim. Who does that but a child?
I watched the news all afternoon to see if they found him –
maybe he just wandered off to get a snack and no one knew – but at 5 p.m. , his body was found, down deep under the
water, by a police diver.
I did what any mother does.
I went to find my own son (safely playing soccer in the backyard). And then I cried a little.
I see it in my son, too.
Some days he doesn’t “hear” me (of course, there are the ear phones – er
buds), and others, I’m still “Mommy.”
And I struggle whether to feel guilty about loving to make
him breakfast in the morning, or forcing him to deal himself with the kid who
stole his homework, and the teacher, who gave him a zero.
Twelve is, indeed, a difficult time for kids trying
desperately to separate from Mom and Dad while also not really wanting to stray
too far. I just hope my son can find
himself somewhere between -- those two poor kids -- getting too physical and
imagining himself something he is not.
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