Dad on Duty #87

Today I worked an extra day, a Thursday, on special request of the Boss.

She kinda suckered me into it.  She told me there were a couple of big events going on, which was true….

1. We were setting up for a dinosaur-themed family event to occur tonite, and they specifically requested that a staff member be a dedicated contact for the setup. Ok, so “tag” I’m it for that job.
2. We are hosting a big deal celebrity author and TV show host today. Kids are coming from all over GISD to see this guy.  Lunch will be re-arranged.  Yep, that’s a challenge.
3. The folks who we hired to operate the “Fun Run” event will be here setting up some stuff.

So those are legit reasons to ask for help.

What she didn’t tell me, ’till I was already here and I had my keys, radio and name badge on….too late to run now….is that both she and the A/P were leaving.

Um…..what?  I just stare at her for a second, blankly.

Also, Heather (our counselor) is gone this morning. So is Ruth (our music teacher, and backup admin, and special operations coordinator).  We should all be back before our celebrity speaker gets here, the Boss tells me.

They are all gone by no fault of their own; for most of the admins, the District has them dispatched all over the County today.

We have enough certified admins that there’s always one in the building, even when there is a mass exodus like today.  Lisa, one of our “reserve” admins, is the designated Boss this morning.    She’s very experienced, but at our school she now works as an interventionist, focusing on kids that need extra help.

As she walks through the office, Deb and Rosie remind her: “you’re in charge till about 11”. She points to me, sitting at my desk, and says, with confidence and poise, “no. He is”.   And walks out, mic drop.

That’s how you know she’s in charge.

*******

We have a big-deal guest speaker coming today, and so many other moving parts, that the Boss decided that we would not allow visitors today.  They sent that message multiple times via e-blast and notes home. For the most part, folks got the word.

But one woman walks in and introduces herself as the relative of a scholar.  She’s never been here before. We start to explain the no-visitor policy for today, but she interrupts us to tell us that she drove several hours and won’t have a chance to see her young friend otherwise.

Well….ok…..

The gals ID her and she’s all clear in the system.  They issue her a sticker.  She heads into the cafeteria to meet her relative for lunch.  I’m hanging out in there helping, and getting ready to start moving stuff for the celebrity guest speaker.

After a minute or two, in runs the office volunteer, straight at me.  As per protocol, Deb looked up the kid who is being visited, just to make sure, and there’s a flag on the file.  Some family members are restricted from contact.  It’s unclear if our visitor is in that bucket.  “Deb wants you to keep an eye on them” the volunteer tells me, nodding her head subtly…like we’re in a spy movie…toward the pair.

I make my way as close as I can to the kid and visitor in question, without being obvious.  The table closest to them happens to be the SPED kids, so I plop down with them.  They love it….somebody new!   I visit with them and their teachers for a while.  I’m pretty sure the teacher was thinking “this…is…odd…”. After about 10 minutes, Deb calls me on the radio: “all clear, confirmed with custodial parent”.

Phew.

These complex, and potentially weighty, events happen at schools everyday.  It’s a constant challenge, balancing the safety of kids against keeping the school a welcoming environment for parents, relatives and mentors.

**********

One of the kids I work with, a lot, gets into a bit of gridlock with Coach Nick during PE.  She basically refused to play by the rules, and got sent to go sit out, but has decided instead to stand just outside Coach’s reach, in limbo. Coach asks me to intervene and get her to go inside like he instructed.

I try, but she’s having nothing of it.  I know I can get through to her.  She hugs me 10 times a day as we pass each other in the school. We have a relationship. I kneel down and engage her eye to eye.  She softens.

She tells me what she did, and why she acted out.  It was a bad choice, for no particularly good reason.  I tell her that, directly.  I ask her: “what do you want to do?  Do you want to play the game, or sit out”. “Play”.  “Good, because you’re good at it and you’ll have fun”. “But” she laments “Coach is mad at me now”.

“You’re very good at talking with grownups.  You talk to me all the time, and you’re appropriate and clear and convincing”.  She’s listening intently now. She sees where I’m going.

“Go talk to Coach like you talk to me. Be confident.  Like you are with me. Tell him you made a mistake, you’re sorry, and you want another chance. He’s a good man; he’ll listen. You do it with me all the time; now I want you to learn to do it with other grownups too”.

It’s an epiphany for her. She looks at me in silence for a moment, and I can almost hear the “click” in her head. She nods.

She marches over to Coach, who is in the middle of refereeing a heated game of kickball. He pauses the action; they talk. I see him nod, and pat her shoulder, and point to her position in the game.

She turns and gives me a thumbs-up and heads to her spot.

I walk back inside and think; if I do nothing else this week…or month….nothing else….this right here makes up for it all. This. Right. Here.

**********

Our celebrity guest arrives.  So do several busses, carrying a few kids and chaperones from almost every other GISD school.  Our kids start entering the cafeteria; all of 3rd, 4th and 5th grade.

He is a gifted speaker.  He delivers a touching and relevant message about kindness in action, in real life. Even my kid gets choked up (she reluctantly admits later).

Right in the middle of his talk, another visitor shows up at the front desk.  The ladies ask how they can help her; “I’m here to see <the guest speaker>”. She proceeds to tell the office gals how she follows this guy via Twitter and when she found out he was coming to Central Texas, she drove for several hours to see him.

She lives about 400 miles from here.

Um….  blink, blink go the office ladies.  You drove to a school to see this guy, and you think that’s gonna be ok with us?

“Well, that’s a great story.  But we’re not allowing visitors today. I’m so sorry.  You’ll have to leave”.

The visitor reluctantly, and very slowly, leaves the office.  After a few minutes, the gals realize they haven’t seen a car go by.  There’s only one way out of the parking lot, and it’s past their window.

She hasn’t left.

I get a call on the radio to come see Deb in the office.  She tells me the story, describes the visitor to me.

I go out and walk the front parking lot, car by car. No sign.

Kids are out at recess and PE, and Coach Sharon is on duty outside. I walk back there to ask her to keep an eye out.  As we talk, she’s facing the drive that leads from the front of the school to near the playground.  I’m looking the other way.

“So just, you know, if you see her roaming around back here, give us a shout” I say to Sharon.  She points over my shoulder and asks “you mean, like that?”

You gotta be #@%&ing me.

“I’ve never seen that car before. Have you?” Sharon asks. Nope. I head toward the car.  It’s her; I can see her pretty clearly now.  She sees me too, and starts backing out. Quickly.

I’m moving fast now, right at her.  She makes it out of the driveway and pulls around the corner toward the front doors of the school.  I pursue, and make it almost to her, when she zips off, into the neighborhood across the street.

I realize; this is inching toward being a real problem. I gotta go tell the Boss.

After I give her a quick synopsis, she immediately says “call the cops”.   Yes ma’am.

Deb makes the call, and they send a squad to cruise our parking lot and the neighborhood across the street.

I find our guest’s assistant, and tell him they have a……”fan”.  He comments that folks love his boss, but he didn’t think anybody had ever followed him before.

Great. Glad we could help provide this career milestone for you.

Now it occurs to me; I’ve got to stay out front. The cops are done, they tell us, unless she re-appears.  And I don’t want her to re-appear in the building.  I’m really quite confident that she’s totally harmless….just eccentric….but, I’m not letting her anywhere near our kids.

So I stay on watch out on the front sidewalk.  Some IT guys show up to fix something, and park on the curb. I walk over and tell them “hey, we got a little situation here” and tell them a bit about it. “That’s weird…” one comments.  “You want us to move the car?”  Yes, that would help me.

The Big, Big Boss shows up to meet our guest.  We chat for a minute, and he figures out something is amiss.  I give him a short brief, and he comments “that’s odd…”

Yeah, that seems to be the consensus.  “Glad you’re here” he tells me, and stands watch with me for a few minutes before he has to leave.

Our guest is coming out, to head to his next gig. I walk him to his car.  We chat about his fan.  He notes “how can any grownup think it’s ok to show up at a school?  Even if you don’t have kids, you gotta know…people are going to be very uptight about kids at school.  That shouldn’t be news”.

He and his assistant drive off.  And I stay pretty close to the front driveway the rest of the day.

******

On our way home, the girls are telling me about the amazing experience they had with the guest speaker. How he talked about the little, but powerful, things they could do to spread kindness and thereby change..and even save…people’s lives.

They are inspired.

There’s a little girl in their grade that struggles with interpersonal skills.  She has few friends and is often by herself at lunch and recess.  I worry, a lot, about her.

I say to the girls “you know there’s somebody in your class that could use what you learned today”.  Tori immediately names her.  She knows.

I tell them I’m worried about her, and why. I offer some details.

The back seat is quiet.  For a few moments.  Then I hear sniffling.

“I guess I know what I’m doing tomorrow” Tori says.

I hope so, my pumpkin.  I really hope so.