Garrett Bower

Garrett Bower may be in fifth grade, but he’s already a theorist in the tradition of thinkers such as Jacques Derrida. Don’t believe us? During our interview, he stops the conversation to challenge us: “The question is, is a zebra white with black stripes or black with white stripes?” Derrida/Bower argues that the stripes do not contain any fixed meaning beyond the context of “zebra” and the difference between the two tones. Garrett’s playful question (as interpreted by this writer and former professor) is a more solid embodiment of deconstruction and fluidity of meaning than I’ve found in academic essays from graduate students. Have you ever heard the phrase “wise beyond his years?” No joke; that’s Garrett.

But Garrett doesn’t ponder the zebra and its stripes (or nonstripes) for any heady philosophical reason. There are practical applications to his thought experiments. He eventually wants to take on the role of zoological veterinarian, and he’s not ruling out Australia as a home base to start practicing vet science. Beyond the zebra, he is particularly fascinated with kangaroos.

One of his hopes is to visit Denali National Park in Alaska and watch for golden eagles. It’s essential, Garrett explains, that these animals are observed in their natural habitats. How do these spaces generate narratives and human-centric myths about other species and our world? His intentions are to find out at the everwild source of the commotion.

Activities that test his mettle and cool under pressure are a meaningful part of Garrett’s day-to-day. On the soccer field, he tends to the pressure of penalty kicks and defending a lead as if it were nothing more than a housefly on a warm afternoon, effortlessly brushed aside. In the band room, it’s much the same story, a different outlet. He diligently practices percussion and hopes one day to carry the band. Again, the pressure of throwing all the other instrument sections off track isn’t lost on him. “Yeah, it’s pressure,” Garrett shrugs, unbothered by the implications. He understands there isn’t a universal standard for keeping his cool. Environmental conditions and context (there’s that word again) provide him the composure for the goal and score at hand, not the other way around.

His two brothers, Brett and Mitch, are among the many influences that ground his hyper-focused outlook. It’s inspiring, Garrett says, that his older brother always tries to finish strong and models an intense dedication to whatever he sets his mind to do. He also appreciates the out-of-the-box thinking his younger brother brings to family discussions. However, just as Garrett’s imaginary zebra is caught between the binary opposition of black/white, being the middle child, by his account, can be an unenviable position. In the tropical savanna where siblings compete for parental attention, he says he’s often left to meditate on his own existence: “I’m like, ‘Hello, am I here?’” We suppose the terms ``invisible middle” and “middle child syndrome” have roots in the experiences of middle children like Garrett worldwide. Still, it’s a matter of perspective. We all feel we should receive more attention as easily as we think we deserve “one more” slice of chocolate cake.

“It’s small, but we have spirit,” Garrett says of Newton and its community. Friends, family, and playtime offer him a terrestrial home to consider the more significant ideas in our vast cosmosphere of spacetime fluctuations and starstuff. He admits to a bit of sadness as summer nears; he’ll miss his friends. But his attitude, as always, is mature and profound in its calculations. Same as the zebra, does the sadness come because summer means less time spent with friends at school, or is he happily awaiting the joyous sorrow of summer break and its period of relaxation? Garrett reminds us our inner emotional universe is more complex than this/that, either/or, black/white.

So, are we teaching the fifth grader, or is he teaching us?