THANK YOU??
I doubt they’d ever teach this in science class, but there HAS to be some connection between how much fun you had on a long weekend and how excruciating it is to go back to school afterward.
Matt and I spend Tuesday limping to our classrooms like wounded soldiers on a battlefield. He occasionally stops and doubles over. “I’m not gonna make it,” he cries. “Go on without me!”
For the past few months, Matt and I have been obsessed with comedy. We follow a ton of comedians on Instagram, and for several nights we’ve stayed up past midnight laughing at their hilarious stories.
Matt’s always been a jokester and I’m pretty good at concocting ridiculous schemes, so we’re convinced we’re destined to become the next famous comedy duo.
When I finally get home from that grueling day back, I’m surprised my parents are already there. Dad’s been logging long hours storyboarding for the film he’s working on, and Mom must’ve had a shortened day because she’s in a T-shirt and leggings instead of her usual scrubs.
They follow me into the kitchen as I walk in to grab a snack. The goofy smiles on both their faces make me uneasy. Before I can ask what’s going on, Dad speaks up.
“We’ve got a surprise for you!” He points to a corrugated cardboard box on the kitchen table.
I haven’t gotten any good grades lately and it’s nowhere near my birthday, so I’m curious to see what’s inside.
Before I can open it, however, Mom puts her hand on my shoulder. “You know how we’ve had conversations about the importance of learning new things?” she asks.
Suddenly the prospect of this gift seems a lot less appealing. I nod and reach for the box once more but Mom stops me again.
“Your brain is still developing, so it’s important to keep giving it new tasks,” Dad adds. “It’s called neuroplasticity.”
Case closed; this present is definitely NOT something cool. I decide whatever it is can wait until after I’ve finished an entire bag of Goldfish.
“I just walked in the door and you’re already talking about stuff I don’t understand.” I point to the box on the table and tell them whatever it is, I’m no longer interested.
“That’s too bad,” Mom says, “because it’s something you’ve wanted for a long time.”
Her comment has me intrigued. I wipe the Goldfish crumbs off the counter and sit down. I remember the conversation we had a few months ago when Carly took a class in Mandarin; my parents tried to talk me into taking it with her to “expand my brain” but I told them I’d like to get an A in my own language first before studying a new one.
“We’ve been impressed with the computer science work Umberto’s been doing,” Mom continues. “It seems like you have been too.”
“Umberto’s a brainiac,” I tell them. “I can beat him at video games and I’m good at finding the perfect meme for any situation, but he’s a thousand times better at actual programming.”
“Well, maybe that’s because you’ve never tried.” Dad pushes the box toward me and I slowly open it.
Inside is a laptop!
“No way, my very own computer! Now I won’t have to borrow yours all the time.”
When I press the power button, the screen immediately illuminates. AWESOME! It boots up in lightning speed, but I’m confused by the empty screen.
“The desktop’s empty. Where are the games and applications?” I say.
“That’s the beauty of it,” Dad says. “It’s only got a word processing application for schoolwork. The rest of the applications you’ll have to write yourself.”
“WHAT?!” I shout. “I don’t know how to code!”
“Yet!” Dad adds. “We got the email on the upcoming after-school programs. There’s a coding elective starting in a few weeks—that’s why we’re giving this to you now instead of waiting for your birthday.”
My father may be the one talking, but this scheme to get me to do more work has Mom’s name all over it.
“The whole point of an elective is that it’s something I choose,” I whine. “I was going to take the comedy after-school class, not computer programming!”
“You can sign up for both.” Mom separates her hands like she’s showing off a giant bass she just caught. “It’s all about expanding your brain.”
I thank them for the computer and head upstairs. As soon as I’m in my room, I’ll download all the games and applications I want. Who ever heard of creating and designing your own fun? What is this—the Middle Ages?
On my bed I scoot next to my dog, Bodi, and open the laptop. I can’t complain, really. The design is sleek and the keyboard is comfortable. But when I try to access the Internet, I can’t find our home network anywhere.
“You looking for the network?” Dad sticks his head into my room. “We thought it would help you stay focused if you weren’t distracted by the Internet, so we had the store take out the wireless card.”
My parents have absolutely lost their minds. “WHAT GOOD IS A LAPTOP WITHOUT WI-FI??” I shout.
“I guess you’ll find out,” Dad laughs as he heads down the hall.
It’s official, my parents have gone berserk. I stare at my new laptop, a piece of technology as effective as a bag of rocks.
A present that makes you work isn’t a present at all.
WORST. GIFT. EVER.
Text copyright © 2020 by Janet Tashjian
Illustrations copyright © 2020 by Jake Tashjian
