Dad on Duty #103

I’ve got to remember that this will take a while.

It will take a while to establish the relationships and the level of trust to which I became so accustomed.

I don’t have that here, yet.  These folks are still tentative about me; both the kids and the staff.  It’s hard to remember when it was like that at McCoy, but I realize it was.  I’m starting over, and I have to respect that process.

Sometimes it bothers me though.  Because, by the last couple of years at McCoy, I knew every nuance of that place, as well or better than anyone.  I had the complete trust of the staff and the kids.  I believe I earned it, by working hard and being trustworthy, for over 2,000 hours.

So now I need to remember; the relationships I had at the last job were earned with time.  And there is no substitute for that in this world, where people are trusting you with their *kids*.

***************

One of the things they do really well here at Cooper are inspirational (and amusing) signs all over the place.  It is an integral part of the culture of this building.

I think there is value in that.  Having the right messages embedded, constantly, in the background.  Everywhere you look, there are cute little hand-made postings encouraging and reinforcing.  Do good.  You are smart and strong.  We care about you here.

 

 

A couple of them are just for the staff.  And they are hilarious.  I’d love to know who is actually authoring these.

 

The teacher-directed signs are mostly found in the staff bathrooms which is, of course, where you put anything you actually want somebody to read.

******

This is an older building.  Stuff needs fixing.

There’s an air conditioner in the Pre-K and 1st grade hall that’s leaking.  Water comes through the ceiling tiles into the hallway.

The HVAC guy is here to fix it.  He’s an outside contractor, not GISD.  So we are cautious about his access.  He has to run back and forth to his truck a lot, and the doors automatically lock behind him.  So he’s propped the door open with a cone.

I get it; it’s gonna be tough for him to get his job done without efficient access to his truck.  I chat with him a bit, offer help as needed.  Then I go to the office to let the Bosses and secretaries know that we have a door propped open, and why.

I tell them I’ll just stay down there as much as possible to cover the open door.   Everybody agrees with that plan.

Problem is, we are also really short for lunch duty, and I’m needed….desperately…..in there.

So one of the secretaries takes initiative and gives him a door key, in exchange for his driver’s license. When she tells me she gave him a key, and I overtly raised my eyebrows, she holds up his license and says “I’m pretty sure he isn’t leaving without this….”.  Ooh, good one.  You’re tough.

I check in with the a/c guy during a break in the lunch melee, and he let’s me know he’s got a key now, should be fine.  He comments that he would “just love somebody to try and come in this school though”; meaning, he’d protect the kids.  And I believe that he would.

But I point out to him; that’s not the problem.  Somebody coming in will get handled quickly.  There’s him, me and a really big dude that works with the behavioral kids.  An intruder will be easy.

The problem is that he’s working on the hallway with really little kids, and if one of them sees daylight, we’re gonna have a runner.  And that’s a much bigger (and much more likely) issue.  I realize, if you don’t work here, that may not be obvious.  But that’s what we need to be worried about.

After I tell him, I can see the lightbulb go on.  He nods slowly; “yep, got it.  I’ll watch for that.”

********

The ladies had expressly asked me to help with Pre-K and KG lunch today.  We were pretty short handed.

Both lunches went great.  I felt much more comfortable this time, and the kids responded to me well.  It was actually fun.

Problem was I needed to take lunch to my kid (and one of her friends) across the street at the middle school.  KG doesn’t head out to recess until 11:10, and Tori’s lunch is at 11:25.

To make matters more challenging, Whataburger is really far away this year.  So I had to leave a few minutes before KG headed out, but I felt like it was all good; kids were done eating, lined up, ready to head outside.  It seemed like there was not much more to do here.

So I tell the front office ladies I’m headed to my kids’ lunch run, and go to my truck.

Before I even get out of the parking lot, I hear the KG teachers calling on the radio for someone to come down and help them get the kids out to the playground; “there’s not enough of us”.

Oh no.  I feel sick.  The *one thing* they actually asked me to do today, and I dropped the ball.

To add insult to injury, I’m also late with the middle school kids’ lunch.  Tori is texting me “where are you?”.

And I said to myself (but not her) “not where I should have been”.

********

Back at Cooper, I stay in the lunch room for all of the lunches.  5th grade is especially fun.  For a fair amount of the time, I sit at one of the tables.  I still don’t know any of these kids, but they are starting to recognize me.  We chatted it up quite a bit.

One kid looks up and says “Oh my gawd!!”, pointing at the clock.

It’s running at 100 mph.  “Time to go home” we shout.  Oh no, now it’s time for supper!  Time for bed!

(This is actual speed)

It was fun, and funny and a real moment of bonding for me and the 5th graders.

I need a few more of those.

********

I’ve got to remember that it will take time to build the relationships.  But I do see progress.

Today, for the first time, I had 3 or 4 kids walk up and ask “can I give you a hug?”

Oh, my little friend……you never have to ask that.

Never.

********

It’s the end of the day.  Kindergarten is getting ready to dismiss, which is a bit of an operation.

One little girl, who has some behavioral challenges, is busy playing in a fun space the teacher has created.  I am out in the hallway, helping other kids pack up their backpacks (which is surprisingly challenging).

The teacher tells our little friend to stop playing and go get her stuff ready.  She resists.  The teacher lays down the law; go get your stuff ready now.  Our little friend has a meltdown, and stands in the middle of the class crying, loudly.

The other kids move around her, uncomfortably, to continue the assigned mission of getting backpacks ready for dismissal.  The little girl keeps fussing, loudly.

Finally, the teacher (new here, by the way) sticks her head out in the hallway and asks me “can you help?”.  Of course.

I walk in and start talking with her. Holding my hand out, inviting her to come with me and get her stuff ready.  After a minute, she accepts.  She stops crying, and walks quietly with me out into the hallway.

We get her ready to go home, and pack up all her things.  I talk to her continuously.  I walk her, alone, to the office to chat with the A/P. On the way, I stop her….twice….to talk very intently with her.  “One of the most important things we are trying to teach you here, that we need you to learn here, is how to control your emotions.  You own them, up here [tapping her head].  Like you did when you and I walked out in the hallway at first.  You stopped crying and screaming, and talked to me.  That feeling….of controlling those feelings….is a big part of what we are trying to teach you here.  Do you understand?”

I’m kneeling in the hallway, nose to nose with her, holding her by her shoulders.  She nods and even says out loud “yes”.

We have that conversation twice, in the 150 feet between her classroom and the office.

Both times, she looks right at me, engages appropriately and seems to genuinely understand.

By the time we get to the office, the A/P asks her, calling her by name, “what happened?”  I tell the story to the A/P, but also point out that we talked about it and I think she gets it.   The little girl nods, to confirm my point.

The A/P looks at us both, then says “good.  Maybe you just need a hug now?”.  The girl rushes to her and embraces.

For a long time.

I go back out to the kindergarten hallway, and pack up some more kids.

Maybe, just maybe, we moved that needle a little bit.