A colleague tracked me down this afternoon. Not with bloodhounds, and cops waving nightsticks, and heat-seeking helicopters, and fine-tooth-comb-gone-over photos from Google Earth. Nope. He went about it in the usual way, dropping by my classroom, where I wasn't, and interrogating the silent Pony, who sang like a canary that I was out on the parking lot performing afternoon duty.
My colleague, we'll call him Mr. KIA, for reasons known to the students, strolled over to the concrete retaining wall upon which I had plopped. I do that when all the action dies down. Mainly to watch the lingerers, the kids who treat the parking lot (of the school which they proclaim to detest attending) like their own personal tailgate arena. I would not be surprised if the aroma of grilling brats wafted across that blacktop expanse.
"I have a problem," said Mr. KIA. "And you're the solution." Which was not a statement that was music to my ears, having been the solution for previous problems, one of which involved carting Mr. KIA and his family across town from a broken-down car to a repair shop to pick up the just-fixed car.
Mr. KIA is in charge of the school's entries for the VFW Voice of Democracy Speech Contest. He was on an official mission. Both of my boys entered. Genius is a two-time winner and previous placer. This is The Pony's first rodeo, he having just arrived at the high school campus this year.
"I have good news. And bad news," said Mr. KIA. "Your son won. And your son did not win." The results are secret until the big reveal. But Mr. KIA has to notify the winner, because the winner must record his speech again for submission for further rounds of the contest. Monetary awards are given for the top five places. First place is worth $100.
The Pony won the contest.
Mr. KIA was a bit beside himself. "I'm not sure what to do. I have no influence on the judges. It's a blind contest. No names. The judges listen to the entire audio tape of speeches. They don't know who is who. I can't tell anybody the places. Only the winner. But I'm telling you, because I know The Pony has been sick, and he MUST be at school tomorrow to record his speech for submission. Even if he's sick, can you bring him in before school to give his speech?"
"I'll make sure he's here, no matter what."
"That's a relief. Otherwise, he forfeits the win. I'll leave it up to you to tell Genius that he didn't win this year."
"Oh, I think he can find out when it's announced. Like everybody else."
In retrospect, I think I see what Mr. KIA was getting at. Perhaps I should tip him off. It's not every day that a 12th-grade MIT prospect with an ACT score of 35 is beaten in a speech contest by his 9th-grade brother.
The Pony is moderately excited. Not for the money. Money is of little value to him. He is over the moon on cloud nine because he has earned the honor of the title. WINNER. Of the VFW Voice of Democracy Speech Contest 2012.
Well done, my little Pony.
Congratulations to the Pony. Sounds to me like both boys are winners.
ReplyDeleteCongratulations to The Pony for this wonderful honor.
ReplyDeleteIs a small part of The Pony's happiness due to the fact that he beat his brother?
ReplyDeleteCongrats to the Pony. I salute him!
ReplyDeleteTammy,
ReplyDeleteThey ARE both winners in my book. And they bring home their fair share of awards. Of course, once they get them home, they commence to whacking each other about the head and shoulders with those awards. Backroads has never been referred to as the City of Brotherly Love.
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Stephen,
The Pony is basking in his success. Wondering if he can qualify for the county competition.
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Sioux,
That is a LARGE part of The Pony's happiness. That, and the fact that he beat three seniors.
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Linda,
The Pony returns your salute, and says, "At ease." Which gives you permission to resume the one hundred and eleven pieces you are working on with the intention of submitting tomorrow.