There's this boy in my daughter's class whom I really enjoy, in fact I've been thinking he's a great kid since last year, when he was in my group for the Christmas market fieldtrip to a nearby town. We spent a few hours walking around the market, looking at candles, pottery, woven scarves, and a ton of other gift choices. The entire time, K. (the boy) kept saying, "I want to find just the right present for my mom. We can't leave until I find something good." Eventually, he settled on a framed silver and black etching of zebras, and carried it onto the schoolbus, making a victory salute to his buddies. And that, of course, won my heart--ever since then, I've had a soft spot for K., because he loves his mom and *gasp* talks about it in public. Pretty unusual for middle school boys.
A few days ago, my daughter came home from school and told me what the seventh grade did this week for language arts: pairs of students interviewed each other about what they wanted to do when they grew up, and then reported to the class. "And you'll never guess what K. is going to be!" she said.
"What?" I was really curious.
"Well...(long pause)...he wants to be a poet." Oh, I knew I liked that boy!
"Or else... an assassin."
"And if he can't be those, then a psychologist."
Hmmm. Might be needing one of those in the future.