Labels

Labels. They are so prevalent in our society; from the jocks, to the popular girls, to the druggies, to the 'hos, to the nerds.  Yes, lets talk about the labels applied to our children. Lets not argue bullying here as we know that comes hand in hand with this name-sticking convention.

My son has been "endearingly" called a nerd since he was very young. At the age of three, instead of swinging a golf club like his more "athletic" cousin; my son turned it upside down so the thick driver part of the club was mere centimeters from his lips.  My son was using his device to speak to aliens. Yes, I am sure those extraterrestrials could hear him. 

My son also used sand buckets, not in their intended manner, but on his head - again to communicate with space beings. 

If countless hours of engineering kit after kit and creation after creation qualifies you as a nerd; well, my son has earned that moniker. 

If reading 1,000+ page adult novels puts you up there in Stephen Hawking land (or rather Stephen King land in this instance, well, my son fits that bill.

My son has a unique way of thinking. His perspective is unlike most of us. I remember clearly his kindergarten teacher explaining to us that when a child draws a bird, they draw a side profile version. My son drew his bird from an aerial perspective. His bird was as if you were in the atmosphere looking down upon the winged animal. 

I have never been bothered by the necessity of some to deem my son in the category of "nerdiness".  Nope. Not for one second have I been offended or hurt. I do not understand the need for a label, but I know that there are some very successful "nerds" out there. Steve Jobs. Bill Gates. The Google Guys. Cripes, even Mark Zuckerman. 

With that, I leave you with this letter to a son. I could have written it myself:

An Open Letter To My Son