Tagged: children
The “Prep” Period
The bell rang. “Alright everyone, we’ll pick up here on Monday. Be safe this weekend.”
“Finally,” he exhaled, “I have a moment to prepare for the rest of the day.”
After one last glance making sure the hallway was clear, he closed the classroom door. Inside, he sat alone. He cleared his throat.
“Do your work,” he said. But he wasn’t pleased. He tried again.
“Do your work.” He still thought something wasn’t right.
“Do your work.” Eek! Too much Batman. He chuckled to himself before continuing.
“Do your work.” Getting better, but still not perfect.
“Do your work. Do your work. Do your work. Do your work. Do your work. Do your work. Do your work. Do your work. Do your work.” It was subtle, but he heard improvement. Looking up at the clock, he saw his prep period was almost over.
“One last time,” he said to himself.
“Do your work.” He smiled. “Perfect! And just in time.”
The bell rang. Getting up to go stand outside his classroom door, relieved, he said to himself, “Okay, I’m ready for the students.”
She’s A Djeeen-yus!
“Trees,” she said in response to the prompt he gave.
After hearing “I see…” and seeing his finger point to the cars on the page, she responded, “Cars.”
He turned the page. The next page had two scenes. In the first, the main character painted a wall blue. In the second, the main character’s friend colored the wall red with a crayon. He continued the challenge-response game.
“I see…” he queried, pointing to the blue.
“Paint,” she finished.
Smiling ear-to-ear, he chuckled. “Ha. Good. I would have also accepted ‘Blue’.”
Frustration
“Okay,” he sighed. “So you don’t want to do division… Let’s chat for a second,” he said to the 15 year-old high school student. “Do you plan on getting a job soon?”
“No. Why would I?” she answered withdrawing and scrunching up her face in disgust.
“Don’t you want money to buy things you want that your parents won’t buy for you?” he nearly pleaded.
“My mom buys me what I want,” she snapped.
“Okay, well what about the expensive stuff. Like when I was in high school, if I wanted a $30 or $50 video game, I had to use my own money. What about that kind of stuff?” he calmly inquired.
“Umm…my mom just bought me two pair of Jordan’s for, what was it, um, like two hundred,” she stated defiantly.
He had nothing. He had no cards up his sleeve. He had no bargaining chips. There was nothing he could say that was true. She could literally never learn division and still live out her life. She literally would be able to eat, drink and be merry without knowing how to compare fractions, without knowing how to simplify improper fractions. Still, he felt that something was terribly wrong.
Where was her drive? Where was her motivation? Where was her self-worth? Where was her desire to improve herself?
Racking his brain, he could only conclude that she had never been given those things to lose. He couldn’t remember a specific day he was given them, but he knew he had them. Maybe he was just getting old.
He was hired to teach her. The problem became clearer every day. Kids like her didn’t need teachers. They’d had skillful, motivated, capable teachers their entire lives. They needed parents.
She was almost an adult, yet if it was cold enough for mittens, she couldn’t do a 12 x 12 times table. And she didn’t care.
The Co-Parent Mystique
Almost a year had passed before he recognized something was wrong. But something was most definitely wrong. Initially it was nice to have a break every few days, a night off, the ability to catch-up on whatever he felt like catching up on. Now, however, it was becoming increasingly difficult to enjoy that time. He felt the way he imagined a python’s prey did. His every hope for relief resulting in the python constricting tighter. And tighter. And tighter.
Initially, there was curiosity about what she was doing when she wasn’t with him. Most importantly he wondered if and what man took his place. All the literature explicitly told him not to play detective, so he didn’t. In fact, following the literature’s recommendations was the easy part. That’s what made this so difficult. How could the ‘right’ way feel so bad?
Time was starting to take its toll. Make no mistake, he was sure he made the right decision. On the whole, though, his last couple decisions had him wondering if he only made them in order to see for himself that life was as difficult as he had always been told. Feeling pretty dumb, he longed for his life before it became difficult. Scratch that, he didn’t think life was difficult; he compartmentalized life too much to make such a sweeping generalization. He told himself that life wasn’t difficult, just half of life–the half without his daughter.
Sometimes with one hand, sometimes with both hands behind her head, she often slept “like a boss.” He missed seeing that. He missed the way all three turns from the bathroom to the kitchen were wide-turns as she ran to get her treat after successfully going potty. He missed the way she opened and closed all her fingers in unison as she beckoned, “Ca-meer!”
The sinking feeling was inescapable. He was disgusted by it. Yet, he couldn’t avoid it. “The reason the situation is so difficult is that it doesn’t have to be this way,” he’d lie to himself. Maybe her mother would see that he could do a better job and let him raise her full-time. Maybe–just maybe–his daughter would request to live with Daddy full-time some day. Way beyond foolishness is shame. He was so ashamed of these selfish thoughts.
Thoughts like these only stifled him. He had not experienced “stifled” before. For that reason alone, he knew his daughter would need more than a stifled version of him. He knew he could do better than that, but he also believed he shouldn’t have to re-invent the wheel. Surely other people were dealing with the same feeling, right? Since it involved shame, he guessed so. If he had to, he would be the first to break the silence. She was worth it.
How To Raise A Toddler
(If you’re short on time, skip to the bottom for numbered instructions.)
Okay, bedtime story complete; she’s down. What the? Why would they make something a toddler is supposed to put in her mouth out of cardboard? It took less than two hours for her to flatten the red-party-favor-blower-thing with her brimming with saliva little mouth. Gross. Yep, I’m throwing it out. I’ll just deal with her tomorrow. She probably won’t even remember that it existed. (#1)
“Daddy!”
Yup. She’s awake. I’d guess that it’s probably around 8:00 am. It’s got to be. I already heard my housemate leave for work. Let me just check my phone to see what time it is… 7:00 am! Oh well. I want waffles this morning anyhow, so I could use the extra time.
“Daddy?”
“What is it?”
“Where’s my red thing?”
“What red thing?”
“Daddy, can you turn on the light in your room?”
“Just eat. When you’re done, you can turn on the light yourself. You’re a big girl now. You can reach all the light switches in the house. Turn them on and off yourself as you please.”
“Daddy. I’m done. Peez I get off the table?”
“You’re done?! You haven’t finished your waffles. How are you going to have enough energy to make it to lunch?” (#2)
“Daddy. Peez I get off the table?”
“Fine.”
“Daddy. Where’s my red thing?”
“I threw it… it probably got thrown away. It was broken.” (#3)
“Who breaked it?”
“It’s ‘broke’, not ‘breaked’, ‘broke’. You did. Don’t you remember?” (#4)
“I breaked it?”
“‘Broke.’ Yep. You sure did. You should be more careful next time. Okay, hurry, you have to go to school.” (#5)
“But I didn’t break it.”
“The point is, it is gone.”
“Are we going to the mountains today?”
“No, you have school today. We’ll go to the mountains on the weekend.”
“Oh.”
“Okay, let’s get moving. I’ll get your clothes, time to go potty.”
Not quite making it to school (daycare) on the first trip, I was back in the driveway needing to grab the bathing suit I had told myself not to forget. Leaving her in the running car on the drive during the short trip into the house, I thought of all the morons who’ve car-jacked a car with a kid in the back. Not even fully closing the front door for fear of locking myself out, I might as well have put out the bat-signal.
Feeling the front-door give a little as I twisted the just unlocked handle, I pushed further only to curse myself. Apparently I didn’t remember to lock the deadbolt this morning before leaving like I told myself I would last night during a bout of all-too-common laziness. Who invented deadbolts that require a key to lock it on the inside of the house anyhow? Safe neighborhood, I’m sure.
Upon approaching the car, her child seat was empty. More curious than concerned, I saw movement on the other side of the seat. Good for her. She finally knows how to unlock the seat-belt. Finally, we made it to the ‘Early Learning Center’.
Crying , she wrapped my pinky and fore finger in her left and right hands which had acquired the grip of a python overnight. I pried my fingers free and left her in the arms of some accented foreign lady who is her teacher.
This is probably not doing any long-term damage to her. (#6)
Instructions for How To Raise A Toddler:
Step 1 – Lie as much as you can to the toddler and yourself.
Step 2 — Use the fact that all other parents are also lying as reassurance that you’re on the right track.
Captain’s Log 