Absolutely Almost

“That night, when I checked through my kitchen window to see if Erlan’s bedroom light was on, just before I went to bed, he spied me checking, and he smiled a tiny smile and gave me the Vulcan salute. I Vulcanned back. It was good to know that even if Erlan was about to be a big-time TV star, he was still my best friend.”

The one relationship that remains constant and that Albie is completely secure in is his friendship with Erlan. This moment foreshadows the friendship’s strength; Albie feels reassured that despite Erlan’s upcoming fame, they will still be best friends. The Vulcan salute is an important symbol in their friendship; the usage of symbols to denote Albie’s different relationships is a recurring literary device Graff uses, such as the gummy bears for Betsy, or the model airplane for Dad.

“I’m good at noticing things. I’ve always been good at noticing. Mrs. Lancaster back at Mountford told me. She said that was one of my ‘strengths,’ that I always picked up on tiny details no one else ever saw. She said, ‘Albie, if you had any skill at language, you might’ve made a very fine writer.’”

Albie does have strengths, though they can’t be quantified or graded; therefore, even when acknowledging Albie’s heightened awareness, his teacher devalues it for the lack of accompanying academic skill. Nevertheless, as shown here, at the beginning of the story Albie still has a healthy self-esteem and, despite his teacher’s dismissiveness, prizes his ability to notice details.

“Dad bought me a model airplane from the gift shop, a real A-10 Thunderbolt. He said he’d help me put it together. He hasn’t had a lot of time lately, but one of these days, he will. It will be a lot of fun.”

The model airplane is an important symbol in Dad and Albie’s relationship. Albie’s reminiscing here points to how he longs for Dad’s time and attention; he overlooks how long it has been since Dad promised to build the plane together, giving Dad the benefit of the doubt rather than assuming he forgot about it entirely.

“When it was time to get ready for bed, Calista told me she’d help me take the cardboard TV to recycling, but I said I wanted to keep it up a little longer.

It was sort of nice, to be able to change the channel whenever I wanted.”

Calista’s creativity is a new experience for Albie, whose parents don’t show much imaginativeness. Her inventive cardboard frame symbolizes the different perspective that she brings into Albie’s life. Albie is grateful for this not just because of what the perspective shows him but also because he discovers, for the first time, that it is possible to view things, including himself, through different lenses.

“‘Would your mom know if you didn’t read this book? Why can’t you go back to reading Captain Underpants? At least you like those books.’

That surprised me when Calista said that, because it sounded like she was saying I should be sneaky and not tell my mom about Captain Underpants. Which is what I wanted to do anyway, but I was surprised about a grown-up saying it. Grown-ups weren’t supposed to be sneaky.”

Calista tends to prioritize feelings over consequences and responsibilities, especially when it comes to Albie. That Albie is surprised by her sneakiness is significant: He recognizes that this is, in fact, a dishonest thing to do, behavior unbefitting an adult. However, he does go along with this idea, displaying that he trusts Calista.

“You can’t get where you’re going without being where you’ve been.”

Mr. Clifton’s advice, which encourages Albie after he tanks a math quiz, sums up one of the book’s most significant messages: the importance of persistence. Albie truly internalizes this message by the end of the book, reflected in the chapter, titled “almost,” when he remembers this advice and frames his B-graded spelling test. Mr. Clifton is also teaching Albie not to be so self-critical about his mistakes; without mistakes, progress is impossible.

“I could tell by the way Mom patted my leg with one hand as she watched the channels flick by that she wanted more than anything, to find out that I had it. That big-word-x reading disorder. […] It was weird, I thought, knowing your mom wanted you to have a disorder. I always thought disorders were bad. […] I sort of hoped I had it too.”

Mom reassures Albie about the test for dyslexia, saying that it is nothing to worry about; nevertheless, Albie knows her well and accurately gauges what she is thinking. Aside from showing Albie’s emotional intuition, this moment illustrates parental power over children’s sense of self; Albie wants so badly to please his mother that he even wishes he had a disorder.

“‘But what if I’m not lucky?’ I asked her. ‘What if I do find something I love, and then I always just stink at it?’

Calista smiled her thoughtful smile. ‘Then won’t you be glad you found something you love?’ she said.”

At this point in the story, Albie’s self-esteem is beginning to falter. His parents’ habitually unreasonable expectations have him casting around to find anything at all that he is good at; when Calista teaches him how to draw, he hopes this will be it. However, Calista’s sage advice is that it is more important to enjoy something rather than just be good at it. This reiterates the book’s message that many valuable things can’t be quantified and that self-worth should not be based on performance.

“We studied and studied and studied.

And the more we studied, the more I knew I’d never be able to get all ten right. No matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t ever going to be a perfect speller.

I wondered how such a perfect speller like Dad could end up with a son like me.”

Albie redoubles his efforts at studying for the spelling test. However, it is clear to him that his efforts will not yield the perfect score that Dad expects—the comparison he draws between Dad and himself sees Albie falling short, and his self-worth takes a huge hit. This symbolizes how his relationship with his father, instead of building him up, tears him down.

“All of a sudden my insides felt twisted, like I wasn’t sure whether I should be happy or sad. Because it seemed like it should be a good thing, that I didn’t have that long-word-x reading disorder, that my brain didn’t mix up letters and numbers on the page. But I could tell from the look on Mom’s face that she didn’t think it was.”

Albie’s self-worth is hugely tied up in how his parents see him, and multiple instances of parental disappointment leaves him unable to separate his own feelings about things from that of his parents. Mom’s disappointment at Albie not having dyslexia leaves him confused about what he should feel; his initial relief at hearing that he does not have dyslexia quickly evaporates in the face of Mom’s reaction.

“I don’t know how to make my dad smile when he looks at my report card, instead of clenching his jaw tight.

I don’t know how to make Mom stop worrying so much about me, even though she says she doesn’t.

I don’t know why I’m always screwing up at everything, even when I try so hard, all the time, not to. I’d do better if I could, I really would. But I don’t know how.

There are a lot of things I don’t know.”

This excerpt is from the chapter titled “things i don’t know,” and it immediately follows the chapter in which Mom is disappointed by Albie’s test results for dyslexia. Where Albie once proudly listed all the things he has noticed, he now lists what he doesn’t know. The list begins with simple items, such as spelling and subtraction, and ends with a poignant expression of frustration at being unable to do better, especially for his parents’ sake.

“‘So what’s Donut Man’s superpower anyway? […] Eating donuts? […] Making donuts?’

I shook my head. ‘He doesn’t have a superpower. He just really likes donuts.’

‘But he’s a superhero,’ Calista said. ‘That means he has to have a superpower.’

‘Nope,’ I said, because I was pretty sure she was wrong. ‘Some people aren’t good at anything. Some people just really like donuts.’”

Donut Man, the comic superhero whom Albie creates, is his fictional alter-ego. Donut Man, like Albie, loves donuts; Donut Man also lacks any superpowers, reflecting Albie’s belief that he himself has no worthwhile strengths. This signifies how low Albie’s self-esteem has reached at this point in the story.

“Seven. Seven words. The best I’d ever done. […] But I knew by the look on Dad’s face when he saw that C grade at the top that I wasn’t getting any donuts from him.

‘I only missed three words,’ I told him. My voice was a squeak. ‘That’s seven right. That’s almost all of them.’

‘Almost, Albie,’ Dad said slowly, putting the test on the table, ‘isn’t nearly good enough.’”

Albie has made clear progress in his spelling; where he once got only four right, he now gets seven. However, Dad promptly stomps out any joy Albie might have taken from this progress, and the choice of words is significant: Dad says that “almost” isn’t good enough. While Dad may be referring only to the grade, “almost” is a label Albie identifies with, and what Albie hears is that he, Albie, is not “nearly good enough.”

“‘N-n-n-n-no. […] Y-y-you are n-not c-c-cool.’

I couldn’t believe I waited for that.

Then she stormed off to the lunchroom. She forgot her lunch bag in her cubby, and I thought about bringing it to her, but then I decided not to. I wasn’t feeling very nice right then.

Just cool.”

Betsy is furious with Albie’s shallowness and friendship with Darren. Albie, in turn, ignores the best parts of himself. For example, he decides not to bring Betsy’s lunch bag to her, because he does not feel “nice”; he feels “cool” instead. This also shows that Albie believes niceness and “coolness” are mutually exclusive.

“‘You can have the good sleeping bag if you want,’ I told him while we were setting up in the living room. ‘Since you’re now a big famous TV star.’

Erlan threw a pillow at my head. ‘Shut up,’ he said, ‘Just treat me normal, okay? You always have to treat me normal.’”

In sharp contrast to Albie’s newfound friendship with Darren, Erlan’s relationship with Albie remains the same because it has a healthy foundation. Darren is only friends with Albie because Erlan is famous; with similarly shallow motivations, Albie avoids Betsy to remain in Darren’s good books. Erlan, however, who is now TV famous, insists that Albie treat him the same as before, demonstrating what constitutes a strong and enduring friendship.

“I wanted to tell them all that I just forgot. That I thought cupcakes were different. That I didn’t remember about the food rule, because it was my birthday. That maybe I never knew cupcakes had egg in them, because I never made a cupcake before. Or maybe I did know that, and I just forgot. But everyone was yelling at me, or talking at me, or asking me questions, and the lights were flickering, and I couldn’t think. My brain wasn’t working. I sat in my desk with those stupid cupcakes in their stupid white box, with everyone around me staring. I just bit my lip and stayed quiet.”

When faced with unexpected information or stimulation, Albie gets overwhelmed and can’t think clearly, likely for fear of saying or doing the wrong thing. This causes him to shut down and give up, as seen in smaller instances throughout the book. Albie’s description of what is happening inside his head as his classmates yell at him for bringing cupcakes into the classroom, however, vividly showcases the scope and intensity of this routine struggle.

“Dad on his treadmill, that’s what was on that channel. Running, running, running. Getting sweaty under the armpits. Not answering the phone when it rang. Not noticing the drippy faucet in the kitchen that would’ve driven Mom crazy. Not asking what happened to the A-10 Thunderbolt box with the bow on top. Not seeing me, for twenty minutes, lying on the floor of my bedroom, staring at him through a cardboard TV.

I pushed all the buttons on Calista’s cardboard remote, but the channel never changed.”

After the incidents of Albie’s birthday, Albie watches Dad through the cardboard TV frame, symbolizing how he is finally seeing Dad through a different perspective: as who he is, and not as the father Albie wants him to be. Albie finally sees that Dad has been oblivious to a lot that has been going on around him; now that he sees Dad this way, he can’t unsee it, no matter how much he wants to, hence his statement that the “channel never changed.”

“I’m not going to say that other kids can’t be mean sometimes. Sometimes people say things that are just awful. […] But you know who you are, Albie. You know what you’re worth. At least I hope you do. […] And you get to decide what words are hurtful to you. If you ask me, ‘dummy’ shouldn’t hurt you one bit.”

Mr. Clifton gives Albie advice on how to deal with Darren’s name-calling and, in doing so, tells Albie that he is worth something. Mr. Clifton’s words have Albie rethinking things about himself, particularly why the word ‘dummy’ is hurtful to him. With Mr. Clifton’s encouragement, Albie begins to question the label of “not smart” that he has adopted for himself all this while.

“That night when I went to sleep, nothing really had changed. I still wasn’t cool. I still didn’t have a finished A-10 Thunderbolt in a display case in the living room, or a dad who would help me build one. I still didn’t have anyone to sit with at lunch. I still had never got more than seven words right on a spelling test. But things felt a little different. Just a titch of a bit. […] I looked at the letter from across the room […] and I noticed that the red letters at the top of the page went from fuzzy to clear to clearer.”

Albie faces his fears and insecurities, finally reading the letter from Mountford Prep and later framing it with Calista’s help. As Albie begins to look at himself without judgment or expectation, he moves closer to self-acceptance; his inner conflict is settling, and his sense of identity begins to emerge, represented by the letters on the page becoming clearer.

“‘Albie!’ he said. […] ‘How did you do this so quickly?’

What I could have said was ‘I don’t know. I’m just good at putting airplanes together, I guess.’

What I could have said was ‘Why? Do you think it looks cool?’

What I could have said was nothing, just a shrug.

I could have said any of those things.

But I didn’t feel like it. I felt like telling the truth.”

Albie shows his increasingly secure sense of self when he is honest with Dad rather than say something either impressive or dismissive about how he assembled the second model airplane. Because Albie tells the truth, Dad and Albie can rebuild their relationship, working on the last bits of the model airplane together.

“‘I love you, Albie,’ she said.

‘You do?’ I asked. I couldn’t help it.

‘Yes. […] You are caring and thoughtful and good. […] I do the best I can,’ she told me. She said each word real slow. ‘At being your mother. I don’t always know how, but… I try.’

I thought that was a weird thing to say. Because I never thought before about being a mom as something you had to try at, like math or spelling. Being a mom was just something you were.”

As Mom tries to comfort Albie after she fires Calista, she confesses that she does not always know how to be a good mother. It is the first time Albie realizes that people around him are also continually trying to do things well, just like he is—even Mom, and even at something that Albie believed came naturally.

“‘I think the hard thing for you, Albie, […] is not going to be getting what you want in life, but figuring out what that is. Once you know what you want—really truly—I know you’ll get it.’

I looked up at Dad while he took another bite of his famous Schaffhauser grilled cheese. There was a funny thing about Dad, I thought. Because sometimes he didn’t understand me at all. And sometimes, he understood me more than anyone else.”

Dad and Albie’s relationship has a newfound closeness and sense of connection. Albie’s honesty forces Dad to really pay attention to his son, and as a result, Dad better understands him. While they did not build the model airplane together, they nevertheless share a bonding moment by making the Schaffhauser grilled cheese sandwich together, a recipe passed down from father to son.

“Under the sleeves of my sweatshirt, I had two cuffs around my wrists, just like the superheroes sometimes wore in the comics. One had a drawing of a donut on it. And the other one said KIND.

And for the first time in maybe forever, I really did feel like I might just have superpowers.”

Calista significantly benefited Albie’s self-esteem, and recent events have only helped this along. It is significant that Albie wears home the cuffs bearing a donut illustration and the word KIND; donuts have remained a symbol of the understanding and affection between Calista and Albie, and Calista helps Albie see his kindness as a valuable strength.