birthday

yesterday one of the sweet babies was absent. actually, a few were, but this particular sweet baby has a probation officer so i'm more aware of his absence than i might be of others. he showed up today. he's a good student. currently getting something between an A and B in class. he arrived with a strange looking mark on his cheek. not a cut really and not really a scrape. the mark was darker than the child's skin, grayer, almost like a burn or a smudge. he seemed happy enough, got his book, showed up on time.

so i asked. "some kind of animal attack you?" if a kid shows signs of violence on the body, the best way to start the conversation you have to have is to blame a house pet. for some reason, if given an out, kids will feel more like telling the truth. because they're not being forced to, maybe. but this kid didn't get hit at home. "no, miss. i got in a fight." fantastic. he's fourteen, has a street name and a relationship with the court system of the city of new york and scored poorly on his eighth grade english test. and he was not attacked by an animal.

the way one child looks after a fight is no indicator of how the other child looks. teenage boys are notoriously poor fighters so it's always best in these situations to assume the child you're with is the victor, no matter what the damage. he certainly does. so this particular angel, a child i already wish i could protect from almost everything he loves, holds up his hand, which looks like someone has inserted a tire pump at the wrist and inflated the meaty part between wrist and fingers. i know that to him and every other child with a hideously swollen hand, this represents the strength of the blow he dealt. it means he destroyed his victim. but he holds it up and i see the colors it's changing to and how his fingers look lost at the end of his balloon hand, like they will just break off and float away. i suspect this much damage represents the wildness of his punch, the inaccuracy of the way his fist landed, the weakness of his wrist because he is not disciplined in his fighting. he is a child. i do not want to suggest this because it will hurt his feelings and because i do not want him to be a better fighter. i do not want him to hit anyone else. what i want is to make him be always the child he is on the pages of his notebook. gentle. curious. insightful. a worrier on behalf of others. and although i know i can't make him be anything and i see that he's not much better at making anything of himself right now, i will continue to pretend we are both working toward the same goal. he wants to get ice for his hand. i ask if the fight, the hand, the mark on his face kept him home yesterday. "no, miss," he says, laughing. "yesterday was my birthday."