Dad On Duty #48

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Thanksgiving lunch!

Lots of parents, grandparents and even siblings came today to have turkey and dressing with the scholars. I didn’t ask for extra Dad help, since at this point, we’ve gotten really good at handling visitors in/out of the cafeteria. Or so I thought.

By chance, one other Dad came to work today. His first day on this job, BTW.

Boy, was I glad he was there.

We had about 600 guests, for 600 students. Gotta be a record.

To add to the experience, we had inside recess today. So instead of going out to the playground, the kids had to be funneled into the gym after lunch.

From the front door, to the cafeteria entrance, to the gym entrance, in total, is about 50 feet.

Imagine a total of about 1,200 people moving through that space.

I kinda got a sense of what it’s like living in Tokyo, without the weirdly modified American music playing in the background.

As kindergarten attempted to flow out, and first grade moved in, and parents (and kids) stood in the entrance buying turkey feathers and guest lunches, we achieved gridlock.

The little kids got a little concerned; at their level, all they could see were a lot of adult butts. And no way out.

The other Dad took the high point, on top of the stairs at the exit of the cafeteria entering the hallway.

I waded into the maelstrom and forced a tunnel through the crowd. I guided the little ones under my outstretched arm into the pathway; they could then see the other Dad up top, and get into the hallway.

Too big white shirts in a sea of milling bodies.   It worked.

By the time 2nd grade was coming out, it was easy. Less people (the littler the people, the more guests), and they are more confident and capable of finding their own way.

By about 4th grade, we were breathing easy. And the other Dad looked at me and silently mouthed “holy #%^*”.

That pretty well summed it up.

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I experienced a great example of the social skills work that our teachers do everyday.

Several of the kindergarten classes were marching down the hall, some headed to music, some to PE in the gym.

One little boy is really acting out. He has a sub, which is often a trigger for bad behaviors, and the sub is having a lot of trouble controlling him.

I do my standard move in such cases; pull up alongside the offender, gently but firmly hold his shoulders, and correct his behavior. The message is pretty clear; “I care about you <hug, squeeze>, but I’m much bigger than you and I’m in charge”.

He answers my questions about “is this how we walk?” correctly, but he doesn’t look up and engage me.

From across the hallway, another K teacher, leading her class elsewhere, intervenes. It’s not even her scholar. But she recognizes the opportunity. “Look him in the eyes and talk to him directly”. “Where are his eyes?” “Say ‘yes sir'”. The boy responds immediately to her: looks up at me and engages, properly.

I pat him on the back and let him go.

The teacher didn’t have to do that. It would have been really easy to leave the situation as was…he was responding to my instruction and following my direction.

But she demanded more of him…and got it. This is the extra step to better, critical social skills.

And it will make all the difference.

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Both my boys had good days today

My introvert was smiling, in a good mood and really helpful. He’d been in and out of trouble over the last couple weeks. We talked a lot about his need to accept our guidance and help, and I felt he really listened today.   When we parted, he was all smiles.

My other boy, that has trouble finishing assignments, passed me in the hall. His teacher had already told me that he needed to finish quite a bit of work today.   I mentioned to him that I really needed him to get it done so we could do our projects this afternoon; the AP had assigned us a ton of book room work, and I desperately needed his help.

I hugged him and asked how he was doing. “Good” he said, but he seemed a little agitated and distracted; he is sensitive to noise and chaos, and we had a lot of that at lunchtime. I was worried.

A little later, I went up to his class to check on his progress. His teacher showed me his assignment; less than a third of it was completed. A long way to go.

I knelt by him and reminded him; I really need you to finish this and come help me. Can you do that?   He nods. I’m not so sure. “Do your very best, please; I need you” I implore.

At the appointed time for us to go to work, I go back up to his class. His teacher meets me at his desk, and checks his paper. She looks back up at me….”it’s done….”

He’s done. He finished it. Every bit of it.

We go do our work

And I am as proud of him, and us together, as I’ve been about just about anything, ever.