Lesson Learned

    

“Yo Ant, why did we have to get these progress reports today?”   

“I don’t know man. Why you asking? Just don’t show your mom.” 

“ You know my mom knows where getting them today so I have no choice.” 

“ I still don’t see why you trippin about it, she’s not going to care.”

“Bru you don’t know my mom, I just have a bad feeling about this one.” 

“Aight we gonna see when we get home.” 

“I already know she’s going to have something to say even though it’s just a progress report and I can still bring it up.”  So I thought!

            Growing up in the military I wasn’t around my father much until my later years.  So that left my mother, older sister, younger brother, and myself while my father was away.  My mother soon became a great influence in my academic as well as personal life.  My mother always stressed the importance of reading and writing even from a young age.

            “What do you boys want me to read tonight?” 

“Keep reading the Hardy Boys.”  My mother used to read a story or sections of a book every night before my brother and I went to sleep.  I remember getting the first set of volumes of the Hardy Boys.  

“I read those books to you guys every night so let’s read something different.” 

“But we like the Hardy Boys.” 

“Ok but Quincy! I expect you to start learning how to read these books yourself sometime soon.” 

“Ok I will but just read it to us.”  My brother and I loved this nightly routine but one day it would soon end. 

            As mentioned before my mother stressed learning how to read and write very much.  One thing I always told my mom is that I want to make money when I get older. 

    “If you don’t learn how to read or write how are you going to make money then?”  In my younger days I’ve always dreamed of playing in the NBA.  That’s something I talked about with my mother all of the time. 

        “Mom if I’m in the NBA  I can just pay someone to do the work that involves reading and let them take care of that stuff for me because ima have that bread ha-ha.” 

        “Boy! Don’t talk like that, if you do that then you won’t have no money cause they’ll end up stealing it and you won’t even know.” 

        “I guess your right mom but it’s a good thing I already know how to huh?” 

        “Yes, but you still need to read so go get your book and come back up here to the kitchen table.”

        “Quincy you got your book? Get up here so you can read before dinner.” 

        “Yea I’m coming mom.”  My mother had a rule that I hated oh so much but I am thankful for her doing this.  This rule happened even up until my freshman year in high school.  My brother and I had to always do our homework at the kitchen table.  Now my brother and I always joke about it because it was this small, black, octagon looking table.  From the day I started school until the day I moved from New York I couldn’t even begin to tell how many times I was at that table!  Actually I can everyday!  As my mother taught me how to read and when I started reading myself I would have to read every night at the same old kitchen table. 

        “What book did you get?” 

        “What do I read every night, the Hardy Boys of course?” 

        “You better watch your tone boy!”  My mother would always say “Boy” to me when I was being sarcastic with her or when I was in trouble with her.  That’s just something I used to do when I was young but thanks to the influence of my mother my attitude about being sarcastic has changed.  Soon would I know my mother’s reasons for her being so strict with reading, writing, and my education period.

    The summer after my 6^th grade year my family and I moved to Fort Stewart, Georgia.  This is where my father was stationed because of the military.  Moving for the first time out of state this was a big transition for me, especially moving from upstate to the “dirty south” Georgia.  Everything was different; I went from cold winters to the hottest, driest weather I’ve ever been in.  I mentioned before that I love to play basketball.  Ever since the age of four I’ve played basketball every single year up until my current age.  Moving down to Georgia I was excited about playing a different style of basketball.  I remember not even thinking where or what new school I was going to attend.  All I cared about is when and where I was going to play ball.  This is the year I was going realize the importance of an education, mainly writing, when it hindered me from doing what I love best.

    After about three months in Georgia I remember my father coming home with some big news. 

        “Quincy, go get your brother and come to the living room because we have something to talk about.” 

        “Yes sir” I said. Once my mother, brother, and I were in the living room he told us the news. 

“I just got the word that my soldiers and I will be some of the first to go over to Iraq.”  I didn’t even know what to say but we just talked for a while and then I went outside to play basketball with Anthony.  I always play basketball to clear my mind and it’s one of the only times I feel comfortable and have no worries.

            “Hey Ant, my dad just told me he has to go to Iraq next week.” 

        “My dad told me yesterday he had to go to.”  It just so happened that most of the Fort Stewart base was going over at the same time. 

        “Man this sucks, this is the first war my dad’s going to.”  The next six months I would learn a lot of responsibility as a growing a young man and also with my academics.  Not knowing that within the next week my attitude toward my academics would change for the rest of my academic career.

        “Yo Q let me know how it goes with your mom and I’ll see you later tonight.”

        “Alright man I’ll see you later.” I walked through the front door and my mother was sitting right there in the living room staring dead at me.  “Hey mom” I said. 

        “Hey Quincy how was your day.” 

I said “It was good, I’m glad it is the weekend though” not knowing she already knew what was going on.

        “Do you have anything for me?” she asked. 

        “No.”  Back in those days we had to get our progress reports signed by our parents so I thought I would wait until Sunday night so I would be able to go out for the weekend.  Then it happened.

            Baam! “What the hell are you doing getting a D in English class!”  I was speechless and scared to death because I was shocked at how mad she was and also the fact that I heard her cuss and that rarely happens.  My mother was also the type of women that when she’s mad she’ll ask questions and then answer them for you and keep on yelling.  “Quincy I don’t understand how you could get a D because you come home every day and tell me you don’t have any work or you’ve done it all at school.  I just don’t understand, so why do you have this grade Quincy?”  Mind you at this time my mother is speaking in her calm confused voice but yet still angry and ready to go off again.   At this point I was scared to even speak because I knew whatever I said would get me in more trouble. Sure enough it did.

            So I said, “I talked to Mrs. Fischer and she said it was because I didn’t turn in a couple of assignments that I thought I did turn in.”  Obviously that was the wrong thing to say because she went off again. 

        “Yes I know that Quincy, she called me last week when it was due and told me.  And didn’t I ask you if you had all your work done last Friday before your basketball game.”

         “Yes” I said, “but it just slipped my mind.”  And this is when she got me and taught me a lesson about not taking my academics seriously. 

            “You know how you made the All-Star team for basketball; well I got news for you you won’t be playing.”  After she said that I didn’t say anything, I just went to my room mad!, because that is the first time I haven’t been able to play basketball.  After a while I calmed down and went and tried to talk my mother into letting me play again because I didn’t really think she was serious. 

        “Mom were you serious, you’re not go not going to let me play on the all-star team?”  “Yes Quincy I was serious because you know what you’re going to do? You are going to write that paper you didn’t write and don’t play like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” 

        “Yes ma’am” I said. 

    Now that I look back I don’t understand why I didn’t write the paper.  It was simply about what my plans were for winter break and what I wanted to do to better myself in school.  Well I guess I knew what I was going to write about now.

            “So mom can I still go to the game?” 

        “Yes, and you’re going to the practice and tell your coach why you aren’t playing and you’re going to write your paper while you watch the practice.”  

    I really thought this was messed up but then I realized why she was doing this and I was glad this didn’t happen while my father was hear because it would have been so much worse.  At the time I was writing my paper my mother even helped me write my paper which I thought she would never do and I really appreciated it.  Even though my team lost the game when I got back to school the next week everything was a lot better and I pulled my grade back up. 

            This experience is something I will always remember.  It’s funny because in two years the something similar happened and I was close to not being allowed to try out for the high school team.  I made sure I straitened up so I could.  My mother was a big influence in my academic career as well as my life.  From those few experiences I’ve learned how important and serious getting an education was to my mother and now how it is important to me.  Thanks to the influence my mother is to me I think this will lead to me being successful today while I begin college.