He comes to school with no worries. He opens his backpack to get out his grey “Five Star” binder. A donut about to explode jelly filling. About to explode the jelly filling that makes up his entire disposition, the disposition of one who wants everyone to be happy. The disposition of one who just wants to please. Crunched up pieces of paper, halves of pencils, and the book that we are reading for English. This is Liam. Not a peep out of him in class, not if he’s not called on. Knows the names of all the Shakespeare plays by heart, and is always telling people to be quiet. Teachers are his friends, and he loves to talk, but only when allowed, and when nobody else is talking. Talk about the latest math topic. Talk about what Naomi Shihab Nye really meant in Habibi. Question how the circulatory system works.
He loves to act. He has the rare trait of being able to become what he imagines. He becomes the character that he perceives. He is what he pictures. He has a close group of friends but a limited horizon. His heart is a lamp. He is warm and ready to laugh and have fun during recess or in the backseat of a car going to Connecticut. I like this part of him. The part that everyone wants to be around.
Like everybody, there is more. There is the part of him that rejects other philosophies. The part that can’t stop exclaiming, “Guuuuys! Stop! That’s so immature!” The part that won’t let kids be kids, or do something not entirely respected by him. He finds it his responsibility to make sure that everybody acts proper all the time. He is a parent constantly scolding for wrong-doings. His willingness to be open ends where a person doesn’t meet his criteria.
He is a sporadic song, with very high notes and very low notes. While dismissing those with different ideas of fun, he still shares many common and unexpected interests. Up and down like a song. Some good verses, some bad. Some high notes, some low. The zig-zag Liam song.
Age 12, Grade 7
Hunter College High School