The Cleanup Kid

The feelings of shame plunge into the souls of the unlearned telling them “Your ill-fortune is incurable and makes you less than your peers”. There is no hiding the fact that illiteracy is a growing problem in America, especially when you consider the number of everyday activities associated with being able to read and write. Sometimes, though, when an indefatigable safeguard believes in a dark horse more than they believe in themselves anything is possible, despite a few secrets. My name is Michael Quinton Chester, and this is what happened in 8th grade. “I do not want to assign your son to suspension again Mr. Chester. Incarceration rates seem to be higher for students who are constantly being removed from the classrooms, especially young men. I know Michael is a good kid and I think our new 2-week OST (Out-of-School Time) program will serve him well, free of charge,” said James Booker Sr, Principal of Big Peach Middle School. My father responded sarcastically, “Aww thank you so kindly sir. While you are at it you may want to consider disciplining your own seed so that he stops bullying my son all the time. Entitlement is a pandemic you know!” as we exited the room. My father taught me to never put my hands on a woman even when she decided to put hers on me unless my life depended on it. As for guys, he told me to always get the last lick, so it was no surprise that he never really gave me a hard time about defending myself at school. Still, it was frustrating getting on the bus every morning knowing that I had one more strike before getting expelled. Next, came the day when I would first meet my OST mentor, Pamela Lee, also better known as Ms. Mesia. She was small but undeniably strong, which became apparent when my hand was just about crushed when we greeted one another. Her leathery skin had a pale Nordic tone that was covered in freckles along with a head full of corkscrew curls that were dyed jet black. You could tell that this was an old lady who was trying to maintain her youth! She would often use trendy slang when talking to me and was always checking her cell phone to appear as if she were busy. As bougie as ole Pamela appeared it was hard to believe that she was the Big Peach Middle School custodian. My OST daily routine for the next couple of weeks consisted of three task: Complete a goal-oriented check-in with Ms. Mesia, Takeout/replace all trash bins, and do an outer premises walkthrough to report any damages found. Sounds like exhausting work for a fourteen-year-old right? Well, it wasn’t for me because afterwards I always had the black book to look forward to! Since I lived on the edge of our school district coupled with the heavy traffic in Atlanta, I had about an hour of free time before my dad would arrive. Ms. Mesia would keep repeating: “Pick a date between 1971 and present day,” until I blurted out an answer. That little black book of hers was a fictionalized memoir about a kid who was illiterate, or so I was told, that held over 17,000 stories. A story for each day beginning with Tuesday, January 26th,1971. Ms. Mesia made an effort to read to me every day once I told her why I kept getting into trouble. The aggravating pest that I continued to let get under my skin was none other than James Booker Jr., aka “J.J.”, the principal’s son. He was an awkward lanky shaped guy that towered over everyone that he came across. You could always find the basketball standout leaned up against a wall twirling his blonde dreadlocks with his entourage surrounding him. Other than sports I am sure his favorite pastime was teasing me about not knowing how to read or write, which wasn’t even a big problem until he started getting physical with his shenanigans. Have you ever started off as the victim of a situation but ended up being the attacker? Yes, that was me every time. Ms. Mesia wanted to make sure I no longer had to deal with nonsense from any tormentors ever again, so she vowed to me that when I completed the OST program, she would work with me to become fully literate in a matter of months! She even gave me her black book as collateral until she had fulfilled her promise. Her only rule was that I did not open the book. Then came the unexpected bad news along with some good news too. The good news is that I finished the 2-week program, and I did not have to deal with J.J. since he supposedly transferred to another school across town to play for a better basketball program. The bad news was… well, I was told by Principal James that Ms. Mesia had taken medical leave due to viral pneumonia. Poof! Just like that I had lost my biggest support. My father would say, “She’ll get better shortly so no tears in this house Mikey. Tears make your skin soft.” He promoted stereotypical masculinity often. During my mentor’s absence, the principal went from being a disciplinarian who seem to always have it out for me, to becoming the most freehearted person I had ever met! I come from humble beginnings, so I was not use to such treatment. While in class one day, the principal’s voice came over the intercom telling me to report to him. I can just about remember every single word that came out of his mouth when I sat down in his office. He said something along the lines of: “First and foremost I want to apologize on my son’s behalf for all of the torment that he put you through. Secondly, I admit my wrongdoing because I should have done something sooner. The truth is I love my son so much that I have unknowingly enabled him his entire life. I want to make things right and I have already gotten permission from your dad if you choose to accept this offer. Starting next week, I want to pay for you to have a private tutor that will teach you the necessary skills needed to read and write. Perry Dunn is the most sought out private tutor in the nation and he just so happens to live 35 miles away.” Did I mention that Principal James was weeping hysterically throughout this entire interaction? It was weird but of course I said, “Yes”! This was a blessing considering that our public school system did not offer any tutoring services which meant that the only people who could even get that extra help were those who could afford private sessions. Next week came and I could not wait to meet Mr. Dunn after school! The principal was out-front where the car-rider pickup was waiting for me in his 1960 Jaguar E-Type ready to take me to the Dunn residence. As we pulled into the driveway, I was handed an envelope. Principal James then emphasizes that, “There is $20,000 dollars inside here. It will cover your 3-month tutoring term. He charges roughly $225.00 a session. Hand this to Perry upon greeting him because I can’t go pass the gate with you.” Apparently, Mr. Dunn was a paranoid individual who would not let more than one person approach his doorstep. It felt surreal to have that much money in my hand and scary at the same time. I guess miracles do happen because within 90 days I had learned how to read, write in print, and write in cursive! My father could not have been prouder that his son broke the generational curse. I could not even go to sleep the night I graduated 8th grade, so I stayed up watching television with the subtitles on to show off a bit. I started flipping the channels during a commercial break and I saw it. “We are following the breaking news in Peachville, Georgia where a 60-year-old woman by the name of Pamela Lee is in custody after a desperate police search inside her apartment leads officers to finding a fourteen-year-old male who had been held captive for several months. Lee is now serving a life sentence for kidnapping,” reported by Glendale Thomas on Channel 7 Action News. I could not believe it, but it was true. Eventually Ms. Mesia called from prison to explain everything and I was to never hear from her again. It turns out that she had been holding J.J. for ransom until Principal James found a way to get me the private tutoring that I needed to become fully literate. Why would she go through all that trouble though if she could have just taught me herself, I wondered? She instructed me to open the black book to explain. To my surprise all the pages were empty. You see there was a reason that she did not go by Pamela. Her mother nicknamed her Mesia because it was short for hyperthymesia. This is a real and rare condition that gives a person the ability to remember just about every event of their life in detail. That so called “fictionalized memoir” inside the black book was her story beginning when she was just 10 years old. She simply used the book to give off the impression that she was in fact reading. That is why she was always able to show empathy to what I was going through. Before we hung up the phone she concluded, “I am so immensely proud of you kid. You did it! I want you to take that black book and use your new skills. You always had so many creative ideas, so I encourage you to put them all down in that book! Cherish every page. Lastly, always remember to never trade your own authenticity for someone else’s approval.” Wow, crazy right? I have mixed feelings about this entire experience. The true definition of nostalgia in my opinion.