He shows up at my office, lanyard hall pass around his neck. The child stares at me as though he has forgotten why he came.
“What’s up Trevon?” I ask.
“I think I need to call my mom,” he mumbles. “We’re learning about religion in my social studies class; my mom told me I’m not ‘s’posed’ to talk about religion in my classes,” he blurts looking away.
“What religion are you studying?” I ask, trying to remember the sixth grade curriculum.
“Confusion… we’re learning about confusion.” he replies. I’m momentarily puzzled, then it registers: “Confucius???”
You just had to be there.