Dad on Duty #68 – She Came In Love and It Worked

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We have a lot of substitute teachers today.  While they are perfectly competent, capable and comfortable providing the instruction and guidance for the students, they don’t know the specific protocols and operations at our school.

Over a dozen times today, I get asked “um…where do I go with the kids now?”.  “Is this the science lab?”  “Do I take the kids now, or do you?”  “Is this our playground?”

In exchange, all of us regulars spend all day referring to them, not by their name, but as the teacher for whom they are subbing.  “Are you Holmstrom?” we all ask a lady who’s name most certainly is not Holmstrom.  “Yep” she replies.  “Which one of you is Houston?”  A random young gal holds up her hand, even though her name is actually Addison.  The subs have no personal identity in this scenario; they are placeholders for the full time person.

At one point, a sub is standing at the top of the stairs and confides in me “I haven’t gotten to pee all day”.  I tell her “well, that’s one of the reasons I’m here” and then realize…that didn’t sound right….

“I mean I can give you a break.  Go pee.  I’ll take your kids back to their room, just meet us there”.

She does the pee-pee run down the hallway.

She really should have asked sooner.

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Deb asks if I can give a new prospective parent a tour of our school.  The new parent lives in our neighborhood…turns out, just a few doors down from me….and her kid currently goes to private school, but she’s thinking about transferring here.

I introduce myself, and proceed to show her around.  I explain the basic processes here, and extol the virtues of public school; basically, that it reflects the real world, especially for kids that live in the rarified, unreal world of Berry Creek Country Club.  And especially this school, which has excellent academics and a healthy social environment.

So as we’re going from department to department, we get to the Music room.  Ruth, our music teacher, is also the PTA president.  And tonight, the PTA is hosting a Minion Movie Night.

To gin up interest in the event, Ruth has come to work today dressed as a Minion.  And I don’t mean just a little bit…like a hat or something.  She IS a Minion, from head to toe.

Impressive.

I introduce the prospective customer, and Ruth can just blithely say “Nice to meet you……it’s Minion night tonight…..” while motioning, needlessly, to her outfit.

The new mom expresses admiration for Ruth’s dedication to the cause.

Either that, or she was being nice because she was scared the crazy lady might stab her.

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During the luncheon chaos, a little girl I know well is loitering around in the foyer area.  “What’s up?” I ask her.  “My mom is bringing me lunch”.  OK, cool.  I know her mom well, and she often brings lunch for her kids.

After a while, I notice she’s still hanging around there.  “No mom?” I ask.  “Not yet….” she says, hopefully.

Huh.  Lemme check on that.  I text her mom.  The actual exchange is below, censored as needed for this forum:

I love the all caps.  BTW, the mom didn’t send a cartoon cussword.  She sent the real thing.

Sure enough, she comes sliding in on two wheels about 7 minutes later, McDonalds in hand.  Hair sticking in three different directions, and house slippers on.

Her kid is still perfectly happy.  She got chicken nuggets and a sprite.  It’s all good.

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Even in Elementary school, some of the teachers are basically about the same size as some of the kids.

At one point, as kids are moving en mass down the hallway, a teacher asks me if I can tell if another teacher is up there at the head of the line.  Now, the first teacher asks me because she’s not tall enough to see to the front of the line.  And the second teacher that she’s asking about is even smaller.  I look all the way up and down the line of 4^th grade students, shrug and tell her “she probably is…but I can’t tell her apart from her kids.  That **might** be her, or it might be a 10 year old girl”.

A while later, one of the teacher’s aids has a really big 5^th grade boy out on the playground for some one-on-one time.  She is literally about half his size.  They have chosen to do the teeter-totter.

Funny.

As Coach Sharon and I walk by on an unrelated mission, we both see this developing fiasco out the window.  The teacher is basically jumping up and down on her end of the teeter-totter, while the kid sits patiently, his end resting firmly on the ground.

Sharon asks “should we help her?”  “Absolutely not” I reply.  “In fact, we need to get away from this situation as quickly as possible.”

And we do

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The Boss is off campus today.  The A/P has a full schedule of parent and counselor meetings.  At lunchtime, he asks if I can stay close to the lunchroom and help with the hallways too.  Sure.

Problem is, I brought Tori’s lunch, and it requires re-heating.  I sorely underestimated the number of moving parts in this operation.

So, I’m corralling kids, settling disputes, handing out straws and trying to keep order in the cafeteria when suddenly I realize that Tori will be heading down shortly and I don’t have her lunch ready yet.  Her lunch is upstairs.  Really far away.  That was smart.

I break away and race up to the teacher’s lounge and grab her lunch.  I run back down to the office and throw it in the microwave and then dash out to the hallway to see if the cafeteria has descended into Lord of the Flies yet. Phew, no fires yet.

I come in to grab Tori’s pizza…and it’s not even remotely warm.  I’ve got some setting wrong, and I have no idea what.  I hit the “start” button again, and return to my duty station.

At this point, I get intercepted by a teacher.  She asks where the Bosses are.  I tell her she’s out of luck.  Well, she tells me, we have a pretty big problem with a kid, and need heavy firepower.  I assure her I’ll tell the A/P.

So I stick my head into his meeting….which is a big deal about a kid that really needs help….and tell him they need him upstairs.  He says, flatly but directly:  “handle it”.  Yes sir.

I come back out and report to the teacher; I’ll get it handled somehow.  She warns me; it’s likely that you’ll have to physically remove him from the classroom.

So here’s one of the most ironic things about this job:  I have the most training and experience regarding physical restraint and control of anyone in the building. It’s been an essential part of my career for 35 years.  I even teach the subject.

But at this job, I can’t do it.  As a volunteer, I’m not authorized to use any measure of restraint or force on a scholar.  So I’ve got to go get help for this problem.

Art is one of the teacher’s aids and representing 25% of the men in the building, including me, is upstairs eating lunch.  I zip up the stairs….now remember, I am covering the cafeteria with only two other teachers, and the hallway by myself, and my kid’s lunch is still in the microwave….and toss a radio at Art as he shovels a bite into his mouth.  Looking at me like a deer in the headlights, fork still in his mouth, I tell him “sorry dude.  You gotta go to <so-and-so’s> room.  And pull <kid> out.  I’ll be back in a minute to help”.

Just then Tamra Marbibi pops up.  “I’ll go.  Let me go.”   Sure, go for it.  Art backs her up.  I run back down to make sure the front of the school is still there, and to get my kid’s lunch.

The damn pizza is still not warm.  I’m about to scream.  Tori is standing in the foyer area now waiting for me, her foot tapping.  I finally figure out what button to push on the friggin’ microwave and get it heated up.  I sling Tori’s pizza on a table, kiss her on the cheek, and run back out, headed upstairs to help with the “situation”.

I don’t need to.  Here comes Tamra, with the student, calmly walking….and they’re both smiling.

Huh.

Art is walking behind them….and shrugs at me as if to say “well, there you go.  Just needed to send her.”

We were girded for a fight.

She came to offer love, and understanding.

And her way worked.