Dariusz Janczewski

Saving Slon

As soon as I arrived at my father’s hometown, he immediately imposed an iron discipline on his twelve-year-old son. He curtailed my playtime to a bare minimum, replaced my freetime with house chores, and introduced an unwritten but rigid homework schedule. Suddenly, it was not my mother’s home anymore, I became a trained animal, performing under the stern and watchful eye of my father. On some occasions, when I had lost my concentration and happened to float over the savannas of my imagination, he would slap me on the back of my head and, in no certain terms, remind me to put my heart and my brain in what I was doing. Consequently, in no time, I became an obedient, applause-worthy, A-student.