Willie was on TV this past Wednesday as part of the Fox 13, Good Day Utah, Cool School of the Week feature with Big Buddha. He was responsible for the first and the last segment on the morning news and did an excellent job. He was funny and witty and when Buddha tried to make fun of him, it just didn't work.
He was a rapper, bringing out his alter ego, "Wonder Bread". He danced as if no one was watching, leading several hundred students in the "Harlem Shake" a several week old dance phenomenon that is sweeping the Internet.
I was proud of him.
The rest of the morning's segments, the ones without him present were at best....totally lame. It was obvious that the dance and drill teams weren't given much, if any notice that they would be performing on the televizzle. It was a stretch to have the DECA and Anti-Bullying kids try to share a message in a 20 second spot. It was, overall, a pretty disappointing showing for the high school.
The boys and I watched the news all morning, until it was time to head for school, to see Uncle Willie. As I pulled into the driveway, with a sleeping Quinn in his car seat my phone rang.
It was my brother.
He was mad.
We talked about his frustration with the morning's broadcast. About how he was a bit embarrassed about the lack of preparation. We discussed the fact that the administration was giving him the run around while he was trying to put his high school's best face forward and how, he got so frustrated that he got in the face of a teeny tiny administrator and let him have it.
I was so proud of him. At that moment, he was truly my little brother.
You see, us three Petersen kids were raised to be smart and mature and responsible. When asked to do something we do our best, do it right, and hopefully make our parents proud. We all had roles in high school, both academic (well, me not so much), athletic and personality wise that made sure everyone knew who we were.
Me? I didn't know how to keep my mouth shut, the worst incident of which happened in an assembly towards the boys basketball coach, calling him something, he told me later, no one had every called him except his wife.
My sister? One of my grandma's coined the name, "Poison Pen Petersen" because she was the absolute queen of letters to the editor, exposing all the injustice in our school.
My brother? Well, he came into his own, calling out a bunch of dumb administrators for their lack of support, school spirit, organization, and desire to inspire kids to be great and always do better.
Later in the morning, I sent my mom a text, asking her why her children struggled and struggle so much with authority in high school. Her response was, "too mature". I had a conversation with Ross late on Wednesday night about the age we both were when we became truly disillusioned with authority and realized that most adults really don't care and weren't really looking out for our best interest. There are so many good teachers (my sister and mom for example), good administrators, good kids out in the world...it's just so immensely frustrating when as a kid you feel like your surrounded by all the ones that don't really care and don't want to put in the effort.
Can I just tell you Internet, that I'm dreading junior high and high school with my boys. Just dreading it. But, as my mom and dad were for us, I will be an advocate for my child, a supporter of my sons' schools, and an involved mom, trying to make a difference in the lives of my boys and their friends. I'm not sure how I'll do it, but I will.
My Grandma Huber always told us, that if you want something done right, you should do it yourself. And, that if it's worth doing, it's worth doing well. I guess that really rubbed off on us kids....just one more way that my grandma influenced our lives. She was never one to keep her mouth shut when her family, kid, or grand kid was on the line and apparently, neither are we.