Toward the end of first grade, Mr. Neenan took us up to 6th grade history, science, and fractions. When Mom saw what her six year old son could do, she wept. (continued from chapter seven)

I didn’t know what the hell was happening.

But Mom wept

I get perfect scores on every test and quiz. I could out-school any of the big kids in our neighborhood and the kids of Mom and Dad’s friends. But Mom wept.

It didn’t occur to me until much later that Mom hadn’t slept for over 8 months. It didn’t occur to me that Mom loved me so much that she expressed it in tears. It didn’t occur to me that this was the first time in her life that she felt powerful.

The second grade was just as good. On the last day of first grade, Mom hugged Mr. Neenan long enough to make him blush (and adjust his pants). Before walking out of the mystical universe that was my class room, Mom asked, “Who would you entrust Charles to?”

Her students glow

Mr. Neenan thought for a moment. Actually, he used all of that moment to regain his composure. “She’s not in your district. But the most inspired 2nd grade teacher I know is Mrs. Grantham. Her students glow,” Mr. Neenan said his last words I’d ever hear him say. That summer he and his wife and four year old daughter died. You heard about it.

Turns out Mrs. Grantham taught in a public school. I heard talk between my parents all summer that neither of them would have to works nights anymore. They went back and forth. Mom wanted to go back to school. She wanted to finish what she’d started at 18. Dad agreed to keep working nights.

Whenever their paths crossed, they would fight.

He punched a hole in the kitchen wall

“You are such an idiot! How could you let him do that to you? Is that all he got away with?” I heard Dad scream at Mom one night. He punched a hole in the kitchen wall. His hand started bleeding.

“How was I supposed to know! He’s your friend! Do all your friends disrespect you?”

“Oh, no. Even if Brett worshiped me as a God, you showing up every week to pick up Charlie’s mail would make any man stab me in the back!”

Mom stepped right up to Dad’s face

“You’re the one who suggested Brett… Wait. Was that a compliment?” Mom screamed back at Dad. Her expression was kind of wierd.

Mom stepped right up to Dad’s face, “Let’s argue in the bedroom. It’s not healthy for Charlie to see us fighting.”

For the first time in a long time, I saw Mom and Dad hold hands. Actually, it was Mom dragging Dad by the hand.

“Charlie, you can watch that one monster movie you like. You know, the one I told you you couldn’t watch anymore. You can even watch it as loud as you want,” Mom said before Dad slammed their door.

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Mom had a way of knowing the future. Even though Mom and Dad hated each other, Mom would ask me to listen to Dad. She would tell me to ask him to teach me carpentery. She would tell me to get Dad to take me on hikes. I once found a seashell on Palomar Mountain. It was white. It would take me a little while to figure out how it got there in the first place.

Continued from http://bioprin.posterous.com/the-partial-road-chapter-six

Looking back, even before Mom knew about her condition, she almost evangelically went out of her way to find mentors for me. Whether she instinctively knew that she would not be there for the entire course of my childhood or whether she just wanted to get me every advantage in life, I still don’t know.

Mom surveyed, hunted, screened, tested, and finally approved then introduced me to seven mentors before she stepped away from life with us.

Mom surveyed, hunted, screened, tested, and finally approved then introduced me to seven mentors before she stepped away from life with us.

What I didn’t know at the time was that she and Dad both worked two jobs to keep me under the wings of these mentors. When I was six, Mom had heard from a friend that Mr. Glen Neenan was considered the a hero among first grade teachers. Rumors circulated that Mr. Neenan was the human ADHD Med. Kids who were prescribed this drug or that drug starting in preschool could just drop the meds altogether if they got accepted into Mr. Neenan’s class.

Mr. Neenan was that good. He was on fire. Everything he taught came to life. If he read to us from a book, he would dim the lights and have us stomp our feet as if they were treading gooey mud. Then he had us breathe slowly and deeply as if we were in rain forest humidity. It wasn’t until each one of us was completely transported that he began to read to us about the history of the Amazon.

It was wonderful.

Mr. Neenan’s classroom was temple. It was a sacred place where every child had to power to create entire worlds. It was wonderful.

The only problem was that Mr. Neenan taught at Taft Country Day. It was a private school. The tuition was more than Mom’s entire salary. What I didn’t know is that both Mom and Dad’s second jobs started after my bedtime. This is why Mrs. Crenshaw in the apartment directly across from us had our apartment key.

“Charles, Mrs. Crenshaw and Dad are still here. So you can go to sleep now warm and safe. I’m going out for a little bit but I’ll be back before you know it,” Mom would tell me every night about 10pm. Most of the time I was already asleep. Some of the time, I would wonder why Mom had to leave. I missed the bedtime stories she would read to me.

I’ve never seen him cry.

“Charles, Mrs. Crenshaw is just right across the hall. I’m going out for a little bit but Mom should be back before you know it. Then, as soon as Mom’s back at home, I’m going to miss her so much, I’ll have to come racing back to join both of you ok?” Dad whispered in my ear as I slept about an hour later.

I only found out that Dad also whispered to me before leaving for his night job when I was much older. Dad never told me. He was always too stoic to tell me stories like that. I’ve never seen him cry. Funny thing is that while I could barely understand him, It was Mr. Rhee with Shin-da-lella. Mr. Rhee later taught me how to see the hidden parts of my life. Mr. Rhee would teach me many things over the course of my life. (CONTINUED: Chapter 8)

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