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Narrative
Achieving Independence through Tying Shoes
Name: Kelly Zemcik
Instructor: Ogrodowski
Class: English 1100
Spaghetti sauce on dishes and lettuce leaves in salad bowls taunt me from the sink. Inside my head I'm playing Beat the Clock while quickly filling the dishwasher. "Ugh! I can't tie my shoes! I'm never going to do it," Keaton says in utter defeat. He is sitting with arms and legs crossed with lips pressed together. My refusal to delay the process with light-up Velcro™ shoes means Keaton must learn the art of tying this week. Morning provided the best opportunity to teach and practice together. Morning is also my worst enemy. Morning minutes are scarce and finding time to squeeze in some patient moments will be hard.
Every day I'm startled awake when my alarm clock unleashes the loud, talking stranger hiding in the pitch black. The uncoordinated scramble to make it out of the house before traffic swallows us up immediately begins. Pretending that I'm not sabotaging myself, I smack the snooze button. Guilt builds while I lay down for another nine selfish minutes. Time doesn't care when I finally admit defeat, and pout to the shower. When green, digital eyes blink 7:15 a.m., the race is over no matter what time it actually began. I'm responsible today and silence the stranger before he can shout. The time is 5:45 a.m. as I groggily roll out of my warm bed and the countdown begins. Feeling ambitious, I'm giving Keaton his first lesson today.
Sitting on the shiny, laminate kitchen floor, I'm distracted by notice crumbs and small dust balls. The sky is dark and a cool draft creeps up from under the door. Our first lesson begins. His black and blue New Balance ™ sneakers have exceedingly long laces. His little, graceless fingers grasp the plastic ends, and we begin. "Crisscross applesauce," I instruct as he intertwines both laces. "Put the lace around the loop." I'm yawning. Keaton holds one bunny ear between his clumsy thumb, and index finger. The next part is the toughest. "Pull the carrot through the hole under the bunny." A successful pull-through separates shoe tie-ers from Velcro™ wearers. Three tries and the first lesson is over. While Keaton could not quite tie, he was grasping the steps. Digital, green eyes blaze 7:20 a.m. Together we put on warm winter coats, hats, and mismatched gloves. Leaving the coziness of our house, we confront the dreaded morning traffic.
The morning of our third lesson starts off strangely quiet. Opening my eyes, I see 6:30 a.m. smiling at me. Our household morning countdown to departure is half over. Scrambling out of bed, I feed our needy cat and pack a somewhat nutritional lunch. Feet smacking on the cold floor alert me Keaton is awake. Grumpy (and partly possessed by the morning demon hiding in every child), he will have nothing to do with our morning routine. Quickly, I ready myself and dress Keaton in a gray, long-sleeved T-shirt and warm, blue sweatpants. After brushing his teeth against his will, I stuff an oatmeal raisin Cliff Bar™ into the pocket of his red winter coat. With no moments to spare, our morning lesson was forgotten. Dumping him in the car, I drive urgently to school, his tattered sneakers tossed beside him in the back seat. Keaton only had on gray (and slightly too small) socks as I pull into the school parking lot. I open the silver, somewhat dirty, car backdoor to put on his shoes. My eyes open wide while all memories of the last chaotic sixty minutes disappear from memory. Keaton's right foot is covered by a black shoe. He tied his own shoe! I give Keaton a high-five and finish securing his left shoe. Keaton runs quickly into school. Filled with pride, I drive to work knowing I'm late.
The next evening while scrambling to find my keys, the kitchen door opens slowing. Keaton is giving me a crazy, shy smile. "What's going on, buddy?!", I question curiously.
"I can do it – I can tie my shoes!", he announces half giggling. Having a hard time believing this could be true, I challenge him to prove his ability. Sitting on the kitchen floor, which is still dirty, he manipulates two black strings into a loose bow. Keaton did it! He really can tie his own shoe.
"That's awesome Keat!" I give him a huge hug. He takes off his shoe, and runs back to the living room to finish watching his beloved Mighty Morphing Power Rangers™. I stand by the messy kitchen table and reflect on how fast he is growing, and ponder what challenges he will tackle next. One thing is certain – I will not have to tie his shoes tomorrow morning while racing that dreadful clock.