Dad on Duty #89

The paper towel dispensers really make me mad.  Maybe second only to Lost and Found, they haunt my days at McCoy.

These things are darn near impossible to operate.  Unless you have the strength of Batman and the engineering skills of Anthony Stark, you ain’t getting any paper out of these things.

I try to maintain a pre-emptive strike position on them when I’m there, constantly going by and advancing the paper so that kids and teachers can actually get a square.  But the sheer scale of the mission thwarts me; I can do the two little kid bathrooms, a few times, and that’s about it.

The big kids are on their own.  There are a lot of hands getting wiped on pant legs.  Sorry, Moms.

******

Our school has absorbed some additional students and programs this year.  We are one of the few elementary schools with any space available.  At most of the others, you couldn’t get one more kid in the building even if you used a whole can of WD-40 and a pry bar.

So we took an additional special ed (SPED) class and also some behavioral/troubled students from a nearby school, that was about to overflow.  Along with those kids came some new staff as well.

I introduce myself to these new staff members, and go over our radio system.  I’ve spent four days here out of the first seven of the year so far, so they’re getting a pretty good sense of who I am.  And they are fitting in very well with us.

These kids require a lot of manpower, and specialized knowledge and skills.  But they are also critical to our overall success, for a couple of reasons.  First, if we do a good job with these kids early (in elementary school), they are much more likely to do OK later in life, and that benefits us all.  Conversely, if we screw this up now, we are all going to pay for it later.  Secondly, our “regular” kids need to see, interact with and learn to socialize with people that have problems and special needs, and that are significantly different from themselves.  That is the real world, and at our school, a large number of kids (mine being Exhibit A here) have little or no experience with that real world.

As I head upstairs to check doors and hallways, I find one of the new SPED staff members working with a kid on the stairs.  He is sliding, on his butt, down the “learning stairs”, which are the carpeted parallel set of steps that we only use for sitting and group work.

But his need to move, and his need for certain forms of that movement, drive him to this behavior.  The aid is following along behind him, also scooting on her butt, while still quizzing and coaching him on the language arts lesson they have been working on.  He’s answering her, and seems to be doing well……as they hold English class shuffling along like crabs down the carpeted steps of the school.

It’s a pretty challenging way to teach syntax.  But she does it.  Because That. Is. What. She. Does.

A little while later, I’m chatting with one of Tori’s former teachers, that I know pretty well, about the changes this year.  She mentions that the new behavioral students are difficult and disruptive, and it’s going to take some adjustment.  There are outbursts, and distractions.

Certainly.  But I tell her my theory; that our overall student population is stronger with them.  That our “regular” kids are learning to deal with differences, and difficulties, and diversity.  They are learning to focus even if somebody else is acting, well….different.  And that is pretty valuable, I think.

She pauses and reflects.

“You’re right.  I needed that.  Thanks.”.   And off she goes, with maybe a little different view of this particular challenge.

***********

Last year, a few girls took it upon themselves to set up a table and solicit donations for cancer research.  They successfully raised a few hundred bucks, and gave it to a legit organization here in town.

Those same girls, now a year older, bump into me in the hallway.  They hand me these items and mention that they are going to be seeking donations.  “Remember last year?”  Of course, y’all did a great job.  “We’re doing it again!”  Are you selling these items now? I ask.  “No, we just want you to be thinking about us, and be ready to give when it’s time”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Following through.  Sticking to it.  Creating and executing a plan.  Internalizing a real desire, and love, for good work.

These kids are going to be alright, I think.

********

Marc, The Chosen One, is also working today.  We are both having lunch with our kids.  Suddenly he turns to me and asks “what are you going to do next year?”.

I don’t know.

I mean it.  I really don’t know.

Do I go to middle school with my kid?  I’m quite certain they could use more Dads there….middle school is, without a doubt, the area of most problems and trouble.  It is the rickety, dangerous bridge between childhood and adulthood.  And a lot of kids stumble there.  For us, that was really the only time we had any serious trouble with The First Kid, Jack.  6th grade.  It was rough.  And I think that’s the experience for a lot of folks.

But it will be completely different from this place.  And I don’t even know if Tori will want me there.  She will be different by then, too.

What am I going to do next year?

********

So, for some unknown, certainly weird, reason, somebody put a poster of eyes on the wall of the bathroom.

I find it rather disturbing.  But try not to dwell on it.  As I’m in bathroom trying to make paper towels available to the kids (see first paragraph, above), several kids ask me “why is that in here?”  “Isn’t that kinda creepy?”.  That is from a first grader.  Yeah, it’s pretty weird.

I should just take it down.  I’m just not sure; is there some purpose?  Who’s is it?

And here’s a testament to how frenetic a day at school is; within five minutes, I totally forget about it.  Really.  Until I saw the pic on my phone later in the evening, quite possibly the weirdest thing in the building all day, was gone from my mind.

This place is that busy.

**********

One of the aids calls on the radio “we need an admin and assistance in <such and such> room”.  We can barely hear her.; there is blood-curdling screaming in the background that nearly drowns her out.

Marc starts sprinting that way, shouting assurance on the radio “On my way!”.  Problem is, unless it’s a grown up acting crazy, he and I can’t do anything.  And that’s the case here; it’s a kid…..one of the new behavioral-challenged scholars.

I intercept Marc in the hallway and tell him “they have to do it; we can’t”.  He’s a little confused, and his inertia keeps him moving toward the room, slowly, kinda in disbelief.  Really?  Sounds like a fight to the death in there.  Isn’t that what we’re here for?  But he pauses long enough to let the A/P get on the scene, and she and the aid handle the issue…..just fine.

It’s a tough spot for us.  We are the symbol of authority and control to most of the kids, and represent those traits more overtly than the teachers, for the most part.  Between Marc and I, we outweigh an entire grade of teachers.  Usually all we have to do is show up, and stand there….and the conflict resolves itself.

But if a kid needs physical control, it’s against the rules for us to do it.  It has to be done by a teacher or admin…..who often are not much bigger than the kid.

So we stand by, looking big and authoritarian, while the 5’3” admin walks the kid down the hall….

********

Now we get to put that authoritative look to work……

The A/P calls suddenly on the radio for both Marc and I to respond out front, and meet her.  Initially her direction is confusing, as happens in an urgent situation.  Within a few seconds, we figure it out and, as we’re about to connect with her, we see her pointing….as a vehicle speeds away out of the front drive into the neighborhood.

What.  The.  Hell?

She was on patrol on the playground, and happened to notice this vehicle pull up to the curb that borders the running track, near the east end of the school.  The vehicle, which she didn’t recognize, was occupied by one male.  Parked pretty far back, away from the front door, on the curb.

Suspicious, she started approaching.  As she did, the vehicle pulled forward, closer to the front door.  Now even more concerned, she starts marching with authority toward the car.  And calls for us to back her up.  NOW.

As we arrive, the vehicle is zipping off the property away from us.

It is very likely that this person was just clueless.  I’m always amazed at how often that happens; we’ve had adults jogging through the school property during class hours, grandpas who’ve brought barky, scary dogs to car walker pickup, celebrity stalkers who’ve shown up to see a speaker.  Some people just don’t understand that if you’re at a school, while kids are there, a lot of people are going to get really interested in you, really fast.

My guess is that this guy was just clueless, not a threat.  He pulled off the road to finish a work call or get an address on his GPS, and picked a nice quiet parking lot to do so.  Then this lady with a radio started marching toward him, followed in a few minutes by two angry looking dudes, and he realized he screwed up big time and bolted.

That’s my theory.

But, this is why somebody stays out there, all the time.  This is why we watch.  At every school, every minute.  It is arduous and no fun, and not what any of these teachers or admins are trained for.

Nevertheless, it is crucial, and must be done.

And, important for you to know, it is done.