Monday, September 29, 2014

Goth Girl and Goth Boy, 17

Were you guys wondering if I saw Goth Girl and Goth Boy today?

I did. 

Well, I saw Goth Boy. Goth Girl was not on the bus. Is she skipping class this near the end of the year? Bad move, GG. Or maybe not. I never once skipped class in high school but I know people who did and they turned out just fine.

However, I did skip class plenty in college and that didn't end so well for me. Thanks to my friend Alan for picking up my differential equations homework to turn in, but if I had just gone to class with him, I, too, might have a PhD from CalTech instead of just an MBA. Alan went to class. I did not. You do the math. (Because apparently, I was incapable of getting up early enough to do so.) After that semester ended, I changed my major to English.

So skipping class can have an impact on your future. I would be far more employable today with an engineering or science degree than I am with an English degree. Let that be a lesson to you, anyone who wants to major in the liberal arts. It's super fun to major in English - you get a degree for reading great books and then writing what you think about them and sometimes, you become a New York Times bestselling writer, like Jeff Abbott, but most of us English majors languish in obscurity, hoping for a 401K and dental.

Goth Girl, get your butt to class.

Goth Boy, on the other hand, was not skipping class. He got on the bus and sat across from me. I caught his eye as he sat and we did the, "Hey fellow bus passenger" silent nod of greeting, but then I couldn't catch his eye again.

I tried, believe me. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to engage him and ask what he was going to do on summer break. I wanted to ask him what he was listening to. But he just stared off into space, perhaps worried about the weird middle-aged lady staring at him.

I also wanted to gently suggest that he should wash his clothes and take a bath, but I don't think there is a way to deliver that information kindly to a stranger. Either he doesn't know that he is smelly, which is bad enough, or he does know and he is in a home situation where resolving the problem is not easy.

I want to know why his mom and dad don't say, "Son! Go take a shower! Throw those clothes in the wash!"

But then, I come from a family where my parents made sure I had clean clothes and that I myself was clean. Maybe he has bad parents. Maybe nobody washes clothes at his house. Maybe they don't have a washer and nobody will take clothes to the laundromat. I don't know.

I almost wanted to call Child Protective Services to report child neglect, just because of the smelly clothes and body. Then I noticed a tattoo on his lower right arm. 

According to wikipedia, which we all know to be an accurate source of legal information, it is illegal to tattoo anyone under the age of 18 in Wisconsin, even with parental consent. This was not a new tattoo. I don't think he is over 18. 

If my kid came home with a tattoo, I would hit the roof. I would especially hit the roof it is was in a state where tattooing minors is illegal. 

I get the feeling that nobody is looking out for this poor kid. It makes me sad.

1 comment:

Evelynne said...

Ouch. :( I wish there were a way to find that stuff out without embarrassing prying. Poor kid.