Officially Us

29 - Parenting 101.

One month later.

"Jet Hudson Wesley, get your ass in here now!" I yelled upstairs.

I had just opened his term report, which I found dumped in the garbage bin when I got home, addressed to me and torn open. And I was pissed.

I had talked to his parents about getting them to add me onto the school system as his primary contact. I wasn't his legal guardian so I needed their consent to change it, even though the school knew perfectly well what the situation was with Jet and I. They have laws they need to follow, I guess.

And I have parent-like rules to lay down when I see his report with all Ds except for one class unceremoniously discarded in the trash.

"Jesus, Ruben. What's with all the rage?" Jet said, emerging at the bottom of the stairs with a smile which turned instantly into panic when he saw the papers in my hand. I didn't feel good yelling at him, but he's smarter than Ds, and he's also smarter than opening my mail and trashing his report without showing it to me.

"Please explain to me why I am finding your report, addressed to me, opened, in the garbage. And then explain to me why you've received a D in every class this term except Woodwork, and why I've now got five teachers pulling me in for parent-teacher conferences to talk about your grades. Now," I said in my most stern voice yet.

"So? I got a few Ds in classes that don't matter. I got an A in Woodwork, which is the only one I really care about," Jet shrugged, ignoring my want of an explanation as to why he didn't show this to me and why it was in the bin.

"You should care about all your classes, Jet. They're all important."

"Was there some fine print I missed in my employment contract saying I had to write essays about how to use a hammer and nails? Or conduct experiments in a lab relating to the density and composition of wood?" he joked, no doubt thinking I was kidding about all his classes being important. I wasn't, and I was pissed that he would assume I was. School is important.

"No, wiseass. But there was an expectation that you were going to try your best and actually put effort into your schooling, not just sit back and slack off in the ones you don't care about."

"What does it matter? You know I can do the work if I actually tried. I'm not an idiot," he said, again shrugging away my concerns about his education.

"That's exactly my point, Jet. You're not a fucking idiot and yet you're failing the majority of your classes and trying to hide it from me by throwing your report in the bin so I can't see it. It was addressed to me. See: Ruben Foster. Not Jet Wesley," I said, tapping my name forcibly on the paper envelope.

"It's just a term report, Ruben. It's not like it actually means anything in the grand scheme of life. I work hard and I'm good at it. I don't even know why I need to finish school anyway when I already have a job lined up."

"Just because I have given you a job doesn't mean you can piss around with your education, Jet. You might want to do something else with your life down the track and could use the skills they teach you in school."

I loved that he enjoyed working with me, but I wanted him to leave his options open just in case that changed. And even more than that, I wanted him to feel successful and proud of how smart he was, because he really was so damn smart.

"If you want to continue working with me, Jet, you need to respect the education you're being given at school and try your best, not slack off like a common dickhead. You're better than Ds. And if I ever find out that you've gone through my mail again, I'm going to be more disappointed in you than I am right now. It's not good enough," I said, trying my best to keep calm, and dealing with my inner torment in trying to decide what the best way to handle this is. "I'm grounding you for two weeks. No footy. No surfing. No work. You go to school and you come straight home."