Last Christmas, Santa brought Mark a skateboard. Mark was thrilled. He bragged about all the tricks he would do, throwing in lots of skater terms like "ollie" and "grind." He described the ramps he would conquer, and the jumps he would stick perfectly on the other side. And then he walked his new board outside and ever-so-tentatively scooted it very carefully across the patio.
That's about the extent of his riding so far. He walks his board to one end of the patio, climbs aboard, pushes twice with his foot, then glides four or five feet until the momentum dies. Then he turns around, and repeats it.
I've watched him do this for a couple months now. I've tried to encourage him, and to praise him on the rare occasion he's pushed himself more than twice. I finally realized the boy is never going to ride any farther without help.
So I did what I do best when Mark needs to learn something -- I got out my checkbook. I may not have the patience of a good teacher, but I'm a wizard when it comes to Googling stuff. I found and signed him up for lessons.
Mark was so excited for today's lesson that he woke up really early. He even got dressed before waking me up. That's right, the boy of a thousand skater t-shirts woke me up, and I was a little surprised to see him in jeans and his button-down dress shirt. Apparently, it was formal day at the skate park.
Today was his second lesson, and I think he really likes it so far. He complained about all the padding (knees, elbows, wrist guards) at first, but fell within the first 10 minutes, and never complained about it again.
The class is great so far. The teacher, Adam, sets up a course for the kids, with various sized ramps and even a couple rails. He shows them how to go up and down the ramp, then calls out for them to try.
There's one little kid in the class, Shaefer, who's just a demon. He's got to be at least 8 or 9 (the minimum age requirement) but he's so little he looks about 4 or 5. Shaefer's small, but fast. He raced up those ramps fearlessly. Half the time he made it, and the other half, he fell to the ground and rolled just as fearlessly. But he got up every time and raced back. It was pretty cool to watch.
My kid, on the other hand...let's just say he was more...um...analytical about it. He thought about riding his board as fast as Shaefer. He thought about making that jump, and turning a 180 like Shaefer. But then he watched Shaefer fall, and that ended the analysis.
Adam called for Mark to try the ramp. Mark walked across the concrete, carrying his skateboard, until Adam stopped him.
"No, Mark, RIDE the board!" Adam called out.
Mark stopped and put the board down, then carefully climbed onto it. He gave his usual push, and glided toward Adam, stopping about three feet away. He held out his arms to Adam, beseeching him to pull Mark up the ramp.
Adam called for Mark to kick more, to build up some speed. Mark pushed once more, glided two feet. It was as painful for the other parents watching as it was for me.
"Is that your son?" one woman asked and I actually hesitated before answering.
"Yes," I finally admitted. "This is his first lesson. Ever." I prayed silently that she didn't recognize me from last week's lesson.
"He's doing great," she assured me, about two seconds before Mark tripped over his skateboard (which he was carrying -- not riding!) and fell. I realized it might take more than five classes for Mark to become proficient.
But Adam, bless his heart, never gave up on the kids. He helped them up the ramps, and taught them to flip around on their boards. I admired his patience, and just as quickly questioned his sanity when he announced it was time to combine the ramps and the rails (long, thin metal poles he expected them to ride across).
So Mark collected his skateboard, walked to the other side of the skate park, and lined up for the rails. I mentally calculated the fastest route to the nearest ER.
"Kick, Mark, kick!" Adam yelled, as Mark glided toward him. "Build up your speed!" Then he walked over to where Mark had stopped, and pulled him up the ramp and over the rail.
For the last trick, Adam showed the kids how to ride up to the rail, and jump over it on their skateboards. Mark did not manage to jump over, or even clear the rail -- instead, he got his skateboard stuck on the rail, and fell over it.
Oh my god, he's sooo my kid, I thought, and shook my head sadly for him.
Thankfully, after 20 more minutes of free skating, Adam finally took pity on the parents and set us free. Shaefer flew off toward home on his skateboard, and Mark walked his over to me.
"That was fun!" he said, and I nodded. I would describe it more as amusing, but hey, fun works too!
And so young Tony Hawk Junior removed the protective gear, hitched up his skateboard, and carried it to the car.
Well, at least I won't need the ER, I I thought to myself. He certainly won't break any bones walking.
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