Any time I receive a letter and the heading says, "Investigative Request for Information," my heart falls to my stomach, my mouth becomes parched, and I have to remind myself that it's not about my dear daddy.As a teacher, one of the highest honors I can earn is to be listed as any reference on any job application a former student fills out. I've always taken great pride in filling out each question with as many complimentary terms possible to fit in the allocated space on the page, but when it comes to my little neighbor, there's not enough room on a single page for me to tell any "official" how fabulous he is and always has been. To say that I love him is such an understatement, and with every leap and bound he makes with his career, the information arrives in my inbox; and today, in my actual mail box, and no one ever asks me, "How much do you love him? Please tell us."
He, in fact, is the greatest teacher I've ever had. When he was little, I paid attention, and I saw potential in his interests that made me understand my "real" students as they came along. He is that child who took electronics apart so he could learn how they worked. He is that child who chose the company of adults because kids just didn't "get it." He loved anything that involved precision, accuracy, and repetition. He loved fireworks. He loved mythical cartoons and was his own little Harry Potter in a sense. He loved competitions that required brains instead of brawn, and yes, he always won. Now, he could make a bully feel stupid and kick his ass, which makes me more proud than I ever dreamed possible. He knew a Commodore 64 was outdated before he ever plugged it up but it was the best available at the time. He fought dragons in his back yard and he won every battle. I am the luckiest teacher in the world because I got to witness his brilliance unfold one day at a time. I am the luckiest girl in the world because his parents love me as much as they love him....well...almost.
That little boy gripping a bottle rocket with all his might and daring the camera to interfere with its launch is what brilliance looks like. I would load him up in my old Buick, trek him across "the mountain," and we'd bootleg a haul of explosives back to Balmoral many hot summer days. I loved him like Linus loved his blanket, and I kept him just as close if possible. Soon enough, he figured out that if he played his cards right, he could hang out with me and go see Van Halen while other kids his age were at home watching Nick at Night. He could go with me to a midnight premiere of a movie while his peers were home asleep before ten. Before he ever thought of being my little traveling partner, I had already declared him my permanent passenger. I had also figured out that Mom would let me go anywhere as long as he was with me because she knew I'd never put him in harm's way, and she was absolutely correct.
When I think about what his life has become and how all of his curiosity, precision, accuracy, and wisdom have come together to form a mind that far exceeds beautiful, I'm so grateful to have him in my world. I'm past the age his parents were when they learned they had one child...and a kid next door. I've been able to reflect on how they raised this precious yet precocious baby boy, and I now understand that they knew he had something amazing to offer this world, especially with regard to science and math. And all they did was love him and let him play until he couldn't play any longer. He built castles. He slayed dragons. He fixed lawn mowers. He destroyed a jungle gym. If he could slow down long enough, he watched Sesame Street. He loved Star Wars. His parents loved each other, and they loved him. From that...I got my little neighbor.
So, I'm going to, yet again, sharpen my #2 Ticonderoga and fill out another form confirming that my little neighbor is not an alien. Toward the end of the file, "they" say, "Additional information which you feel may have a bearing on this person's suitability for..blah...blah...blah...rocket science..blah...blah...blah" I always write, "I love him the most."
