40 Berry
Berry
I convinced McKenna to come back to the house for dinner after her classes so she can tell us all about her great comeback
at the school. I want to hear every last detail about the coach apologizing to her, the scholarship committee giving back
her financial award, and the housing they’ll be offering her. I assume they’ll be setting her up with something pretty quickly.
Except it’s only eleven a.m. when I get the text from her saying no one from the committee is available to meet with her until
Wednesday.
Well, you’ll have to stay with us until you get everything worked out, and I won’t take no for an answer, I write back.
I’ve just left a fifth-grade classroom, where I was watching Ms. Kaplan finish her lesson on geography.
Each child in the class is being assigned a US state on which to do an in-depth project, and they’ll share their findings with the class through presentations in a week.
It’s an old-fashioned assignment, something I remember doing at my own elementary school, but these kids are going to include interactive digital presentation tools, AI research, and social media travel blog simulations.
It’s a relief to see everything running smoothly despite my absence while we searched for Leo.
Piotr Tomashefsky says it’s the sign of a good administrator when the people on your team can run the show without you, and I’m beginning to believe he’s right.
Which is why, when I received an email from Leo’s guidance counselor earlier this morning asking for a meeting, I didn’t request
a telephone conference instead. Nor did I stress about missing a couple of hours at Stillwell. I’m more capable of multitasking
than I ever realized, and with each passing day, I’m learning that I have, in fact, taught people in my life to get along
just fine without me. I don’t need to be physically present in order for my people to succeed.
As I drive the few miles over to Leo’s high school, I wonder what I’m walking into. After Leo’s little sojourn to the South,
his school might be worried he’s an ongoing flight risk now, that they could be liable if he disappears again. Or there may
be some other scenario they’re complaining about that I’m not creative enough to dream up on my own.
The eleventh-grade counselor is Amara Links. She’s a beautiful young woman who’s always dressed meticulously, and if she didn’t
remind me so much of Yvonne with her seemingly effortless well of coolness, I’d probably hate her.
“Thanks for coming in,” Amara says as I take a chair in her office. It’s always a strange feeling for me to be on the guest
side of the desk in school settings.
After we exchange basic pleasantries, she says, “I know you’ve had some recent excitement with Leo, but I hope that hasn’t
changed your mind about him applying to college programs.”
“No, not at all. If anything, I think he showed us all that he can navigate more of the world than we realized.”
“I’m glad we agree on that. I’ve been noticing he’s grown so much even since the start of school this year.
He’s more social, even interacting a little with other students in his classes, and he just seems more comfortable in his own skin.
I hope you don’t mind, but before his recent adventures, I reached out to a former colleague who’s an administrator at Whitby College.
She finally got back to me, and she thinks Leo would be an excellent fit for their college support program. ”
When I get home, I’m still floating on excitement over all the possibilities I can now see in Leo’s future. It’s true, Leo
has gotten so much more comfortable with himself even in just the last few months. I know so much of his growth is because
of his relationship with McKenna. When I read over all their old text exchanges, I was stunned by the way she communicated
with him. It was as though she could really see him in a way no one else has, not even me. Instead of coddling him, she challenged
him, and it brought him to a new place where he believes in himself in ways he never did before. I will be grateful to that
girl until my last breath.
I find Leo in the kitchen with Phil. They’re standing at the oven pressing lots of buttons.
“What’s going on, guys?” I ask.
“Dad is teaching me how to use the oven.”
Phil barks out a laugh. “It started out that way. We were going to reheat the coconut chicken Harrison made, but Leo’s figured
out all sorts of functionality on this thing I never knew about. Were you aware it has a delayed start and timed bake option?”
He looks back at the tablet in his hand, where I assume he’s getting all the info about the oven.
“You’re going to eat coconut chicken?” I ask Leo.
“No,” Leo says without offering more.
“You wanted to help because McKenna is coming?” I ask.
“No,” he says again, turning his attention back to Phil’s scrolling.
“Then why?”
“I want to know how to use the tools in the kitchen. It turns out I’m better at it than Dad anyway.”
“It turns out you’re better at lots of stuff than we realized,” I tell him. But at least we’re finally starting to see it.