Can't Blame it on the Rain

1977, fourth grade, I lived on a residential island in miami beach. my elementary school was in walking distance, minutes, as there was a foot bridge over a creek connecting the north end of the island to the back fields of the elementary school. Florida weather can be tempestuous and on one typical rainstormy day, my mother drove me to school rather than let me walk. I don't remember why, but I do remember that we were engaged in an argument in the car. Maybe I just wanted to stay home. I was having a hard time adjusting to this new school as we had just moved there a year before and this was my first year of public school in the new hood. I threw a fit and in my self righteous tantrum I ran out of the car wihotut my umbrella as soon as my mom pulled us up to the front crosswalk. Ran in a huff to Mrs. Stratton's combined 3rd and 4th grade class. With seconds to spare before the bell, I sat down at my desk still wearing my soaked slicker, dripping water everywhere. And then I realized that in my short sighted fury I had run out of the car without any of my school supplies. not a stitch. I was being so petulant that morning I more than deserved to have sat the day without any books, homework to turn in, not even a pencil. No lunch or lunch money. Any other day I could have snuck at recess back to my house as it was so close and grabbed my stuff. But this particular morning my mother drove me so everything was in her car on the way to her workplace miles across town. The moment of realization led to cold sweat panic and I had no idea what I was going to do, how to explain it, how to face the rest of the day, how to avoid giving the other kids more reason to make fun of me then they already did - the little boy with the accent, and the funny bowl haircut who couldn't throw, kick or catch a ball properly. Now I would be the soaking wet kid who had to sit there all day unprepared and constantly reminded by the stern teacher of my failings. And it was probably what I deserved. My anger and tantrum took over and I was mean to my mother and I alone created this situation. I was about ready to bust into tears as I stood up to walk to Mrs. Stratton's desk and try to explain my situation. Then literally like out of a movie or children's story, there was a knock at the door. As it opened you could see and hear the continued deluge outside. In the doorway was my mother accompanied by the school office secretary. I can still clearly picture my beautiful mother, hair matted down with the rain, and in her hands was my bicentennial themed notebook, my books, my superman lunch box and star wars pencil case. I heard her apologize to Mrs. Stratton for interrupting, but she explained that she had dropped me off closer to the school entrance due to the rain and continued on to the school parking lot in the rear to bring my things. She not only saved me from the nightmare day ahead of me....she took the blame for why I sat in that classroom with none of my supplies. Yes, I probably deserved to have gone the whole day without them. without my lunch or lunch money. I would have learned an important lesson. And that may have been enough to keep my tantrums in check next time. But I learned an even more important one. even at my worst, and when I deserved it least, my mother pulled my bacon form the fire. I was so humbled and ashamed. I didn't just learn to always be mindful to bring my supplies in with me. I learned that my mother deserved more than my yelling and tantrums. I was reminded of her unconditional love and constant sacrifice and all the energy she spent for my betterment. That day, like many more days, my mother became my superhero.