We Are So Fragile

He woke up today just like every other school day. He got dressed, ate breakfast, argued with his sister, and probably listened to his mom rush him because they were running a little late. His mom was attending a parent conference before school to go over his test scores and he had to be there with her to hear what was being said. He grabbed his poster for the book report he had to give today and they were out the door. The weather was dreary and it had begun to rain. As they pulled into the school parking lot, all he could think of was getting this day over with so the weekend could begin. Nothing special was planned but at least he wouldn't be at school. They hurriedly walked into the school library to sit down with the counselor and talk about what he could do to perform better on the upcoming standardized tests. "I will be glad when all this is over with; I am so tired of hearing about testing," he thought. He listened respectfully, and somewhat humbly, as his mom reminded him that he lives a life of privilege; she does not require him to work and he is allowed to participate in any extracurricular activity he desires, namely, baseball. All she asks in return is that he give his best effort in school. That shouldn't be asking too much but how can he concentrate on school and academics when all he wants to do is play ball? He promised to give it his best and asked his mom to once again pronounce the title of the book he would be presenting in class shortly. "Roberto Clemente, Roberto Clemente." He repeated it a couple of times to help him remember. The parent conference ended, he hugged his mom, and went on to class.

The next couple of hours went on as expected: math intervention, resource class, PE, lunch. He had no idea that this was the last "normal" moment of his life. The intercom came on in the classroom and unexpectedly, they called for him to come to the office to check out. In confusion, he gathered his books and backpack and headed down the hall and down stairs. "What is Nanna doing here?" he wondered as he opened the office door. As he walked in, she leaned down and hugged him tight; she was acting a little weird and her eyes looked swollen. "Why is everyone looking at me like that?"

As they walked out of the school building, he knew something was wrong. In less than an hour, his 10 year old life would be turned upside down and changed forever. Soon he would hear the story about the car accident his mom had been involved in this morning on her way to another meeting. Nanna was taking him to say goodbye to his mother.



The "he" in my story is named Fred. He is a 4th grader at my school and he makes me smile, even when he is being defiant or lazy. He is just one of those kids that leave you no other choice but to like him. I got to tell his mom that this morning during our conference. On her way back to work, as she was merging onto the interstate, she hydroplaned across all lanes, across the median, and into oncoming traffic. She was brain dead upon arrival at the hospital. I have thought about this from Fred's perspective most of the day and my heart absolutely breaks for him. These are the times when I hate my job. Fred has an older sister who is a Senior, and a younger sister who is 3 1/2. Please pray for the Stewart family.