May 27: IEP, Lunch, New Poem

This afternoon, my wife and I have to attend an IEP for my two-year-old son to decide how he will be educated next year in preschool.  It seems, to me, like a ridiculous exercise in the management of school resources, but, hey, what do I know?  I just want my son to get into preschool, possibly a Headstart program.  If I have to jump through this hoop, I'll do a little stretching and leap.

Whenever I have to make decisions that impact my children's futures, like which school to attend or which teacher to choose, I get a little anxious.  I'm constantly afraid I'll make a bad choice and screw them up for the rest of their lives.  And my son's only two, so that's a helluva long time.

In a little while, I'm going out to lunch with my wife and sisters.  Then onto the IEP.  I'm looking forward to the long Memorial Day weekend.  I want to relax.  That doesn't mean I don't have obligations to fulfill, but having three days in which to get things done is a luxury I rarely get.  I have already accomplished quite a bit this morning at work, including writing a new poem.  The weekend's off to a really good start.

My new poem is about my anxieties over my son's future, obviously inspired by the experience I'm anticipating this afternoon.  Enjoy.  Give me some feedback.  Please.

Saint Marty is going to go get some deep-fried cheese curds now.

On My Son’s Future

I meet with his future

Teachers today, a man, a woman,

To decide how we will

Mold him into something

Acceptable, a straight “A”

Football player valedictorian

Who will speak without

Sibilance or stutter,

Will eat brussel sprouts

Without glottal gag

Or plosive retch,

Will recite the alphabet,

Count to one hundred,

Name the bones of the hand

Before kindergarten,

Memorize Lincoln’s

Gettysburg Address for kicks,

Recite it on the playground

As he lobs the ball

Over the fence, takes

His victory lap around

The bases as the other

Boys glare with envy,

The girls admire

His easy, confident

Gait that will carry

Him through high school,

Into college on scholarship,

Medical school on fellowship,

Johns Hopkins, onto missionary

Work where he’ll discover

The cure for some

As yet unknown disease

Decimating sub-Saharan

Africa, for which he’ll

Win the Nobel Prize

For Medicine, thank me

In his acceptance speech

For the choices I make

Today, for asking

Whether he will get

A nap in the afternoon

Next year.

My son gets his Nobel