Mama Don't Play

I've noticed today's kids are being raised completely different than how I and many of my friends were raised. I am sure every generation can say that, but growing up I knew there were things you did not do or say. My mom raised me as a single parent and she had some interesting 'sayings' she would use to keep me in line. Not that I was a wild child, but everyone needs a little straightening out here and again. My mom was so good at this, I promise, I still hear her voice today, and it's usually coming out of my own mouth. I didn't play around with trouble because when I got home I wasn't going to get my iPod taken away. I was going to get a whooping. This one time in the sixth grade I was so scared I was about to get the beating of my life...


This is what happened. In middle school, everyone was required to take a keyboarding class where we learned how to type. I don't know if that's still a thing anymore, but this was before every 12-year-old had their own smartphone. In this class, the teacher gave us sheets to take home so we could practice typing. That's what she said, that these sheets were good practice. Well, I already knew how to type, so I never went home to practice typing the letter C 12 rows at a time. I had chicken to defrost and AP history homework to complete. 

Fast forward to midway through the semester and it's progress report time. I always loved this time of the year because my grades were usually on point and that meant I was getting treated to something I wanted. I walked into my keyboarding class and the teacher announced she would give us our reports when the class was finished. I wasn't worried about keyboarding, it was an easy A. Class was over and I went to pick up my report, which had to be signed and returned by the next day, and what did I see? D- and note that said, Chantel has not completed any homework assignments the entire semester. Please sign here. 

Homework??? What homework! Well, those 'practice' sheets were apparently not optional whether you knew how to type or not. I had never received a grade so low in my life, and I was scared to walk into my house because I knew what was coming. It would have been one thing if it were a subject I genuinely struggled in. This teacher let it be known that my grade was low because I just "didn't do my homework." Nope, not acceptable in Veronica's (my mom) world.

That night I failed to mention my progress report. I thought I'd just wait until the morning. The next day I went into my mom's room while she was still asleep.

"Hey, mom can you sign this for me please"?

(Still half asleep) "What is it? Get me a pen."

"It's just from school. Here, here's a pen. The bus is coming."

She looked at the paper for a second, sat up, and turned on her lamp. I took two steps back out of arm swinging length. I saw her squinting and reading some more. Then, she was suddenly wide awake and sitting up. I took several steps back past the foot of the bed.

"What is this Monique!?!"


(Now she was ragging) "So you think you don't have to do your homework now!?! You think you can come up in this house every day and not do what you know you're supposed to do? And then you tried to get me to sign this while I was asleep!!! Oh, Imma show yo-

Friends, I don't know what she said next. While this was happening I felt a sudden rush of heat start at my feet, come up my legs, hit me in my chest, and land right on my face. My vision went blurry, all sound became faint until I couldn't hear, and then there was complete darkness. 

When I opened my eyes I was looking up, and my mom was above me tapping my cheek. 

Chantel! Chantel! You better quit playing... Chantel? (still mad) Are you okay? 

At this point, I didn't know what had happened. Did she hit me? Did I try to run and fall? Why was I on the ground?

"What happened"?

"You went down like a log. Your knees didn't even bend, just boom, and straight hit the ground. I yelled your name from the bed, but you weren't moving."

I could feel exactly where my head made contact with the ground because now it was throbbing.

"You see, that's why you need to eat breakfast."

0-0 Breakfast! I need to what? No, I don't need to eat breakfast. I'm not diabetic. This wasn't an insulin problem. I just thought I'd go ahead and die before you killed me! But okay, I'll be sure eat some Cheerios next time. 

I got up off the floor and walked to the dining room table. My mom followed behind me still lecturing me, and telling me I better do whatever needed to be done to raise my grade. She signed the paper and handed it to me, and I went off to school. She always said God himself would have to come down to save me if I acted out the wrong way one good time. I believe He did just that when I hit that ground.

That afternoon I came home and did my chores like normal. When my mom got home from work she walked into the kitchen and put a box of granola bars on the counter.

"Here. Make sure you eat before you go school, and keep one in your bag as a snack."

0_o Girl I was scared, not hungry, but thanks.



Chantel Rivera1 Comment