Tribe
“Maybe he’ll find his tribe in high school.”
That’s been the parental refrain about my musical kid and high school. He was bullied in elementary school in the city, has had an IEP and special services from age four until just recently, and all his friends have been mutual friends with his brother, who is ambivalent, at best, about sharing friends and possesses a quicker mouth and a more mercenary social agenda. This year, his brother is off to school in a distant town, leaving the musician flying solo, for the first time in their lives, at his new high school.
School started last week. Maybe he’ll find his tribe.
Today I was late picking him up for the first time ever; the two schools, in towns 10 miles and 30 miles away from me, on different schedules, with a barrage of same-day early dismissal announcements, a new 5am family reveille, and a bricked phone so I can’t reach anyone or use Google Maps, would have been daunting on enough sleep. On rando brain without the rando, they did me in. I was late, following a printout of how to get to his school instead of PhoneNav, and thinking Google really needs to get some randonneurs on staff to tell them how to do a usable cue sheet.
Music boy was wandering around the giant school parking lot with his trombone case, looking for me. As it turned out, he thought he just didn’t know how to recognize the car (I got it last week from a local used car dealer, and he doesn’t have its silhouette internalized yet). I tapped the horn, he found me, I apologized and got on his case about not having his phone, and he launched into today’s story while I was still asking how his day went.
“Last week,” he said, “I said I liked putting sound on SoundCloud, and today SoundCloud is like the biggest thing in school!”
That’s cool, I said. Did they go to your page?
“Yeah, some of them! I can’t check it because I don’t have my phone. There’s this girl who said it’s her new favorite song.”
Really? I said. Who?
“Remember that girl who was telling everybody I was her boyfriend last year? It’s her.”
Dude, she’s into you.
“…you think?”
She tells everybody you’re her boyfriend and tells you it’s her favorite song. Do you have a better explanation?
“Well. No.”
Want a girlfriend?
“No, I don’t think so!”
Okay, there you go.
“Oh, and I was walking down the hall and somebody was playing the song.”
Wow, really?
“Really!”
That is fantastic!
We got his brother from Mom’s, he told the stories again, and his brother suggested it was a big prank. Which I shot down. Possibly a little too hard.
So now it’s 4pm, we’re home, we ate the celebratory ice cream I bestowed upon the family, and he went and checked his listens on SoundCloud.
600 listens.
200 today.
26 new followers, and somebody saying they’re a local producer and would he sing on a track. (“About that…” I said, and gave him a few sentences of go-in-with-your-eyes-open).
When he was done reading all the comments from his new listeners and following everybody back, today’s play count had increased by 15.
Maybe he’ll find his tribe in high school.
Maybe he’s a flippin’ rock star.
