Understanding Owen

On the whole, parent/teacher conferences had been going well. Every year, I challenged myself to see if I could figure out which parent my students take after more, especially in terms of personality. There is a reason they say that apples don't fall far from trees.

The Bordens' son, Owen, was a good kid. He had been diagnosed with dyslexia the previous school year and was still getting used to the routine of specialized instruction. Owen's even-natured personality and quick but gentle wit made all of this easy. I was looking forward to seeing from which parent he had inherited that.

So to see that Mrs. Borden was close to seething and Mr. Borden was not far behind was a complete shock. After a tense introduction, I began with Owen's improvement in spelling. I wasn't halfway through my first sentence when Mrs. Borden turned on her husband.

“Just admit it, Harold,” she spat. “I saw the blood all over the bathroom.”

“Bea, I told you in the car, we're not going to discuss this now,” hissed back Mr. Borden.

“Don't change the subject. I know what I saw!” Mrs. Borden shouted.

“And I know I just said to not talk about it here!”

“Why? Are you embarrassed?”

“Married to you, do I have a choice?”

“If you'd just use the ointment...”

“If you wouldn't use it on your eyelids...”

“Oh, please,” sneered Mrs. Borden. “Hemorrhoid cream works wonders all over the body. What's the big deal?”

“Dammit, Bea, will you shut up!” Mr. Borden's screamed.

“Uh,” I stammered.

“Do not change the subject!” they both roared at me.

After I finally got rid of them, I looked at Owen's cumulative file. Just as I suspected, he was adopted.

Word Count: 299