Phone Home

 Daryl, a second grader new to our school, introduced himself that first day by describing his prior educational experience: "I was at this other school, but it was far from my house. I'm not here because I got in any trouble there or anything." A very sincere opening, but activated my teacher-sense. Mostly because he chose not to speak to me about the things that he liked, or what questions he might have about how long the recesses were or when lunch would be served. His comments had the sound of a coached preamble to his tenure at would be his second school in this young academic year. 

It wasn't long before Daryl found himself some trouble. Nothing big. Nothing dangerous. More along the lines of a second grader staking out his turf in a new place. Impulse control and respect for adults were the dueling foci of his behavior. Nothing we hadn't seen in abundance before his entrance. But not the trouble-free existence he had suggested. The fact that he was being shuttled to and from school by his grandfather offered another clue. Mom was busy. Dad was absent. Grandpa was doing the best he could with what he had. And so was Daryl. 

This dovetailed neatly with the conversation I was having with a colleague about how the majority of our parents only appear as pleasant and convenient cogs in our machine. They support our efforts, and we support theirs. We deliver the kids back to them with a little bit of knowledge each day and the following morning most of them show up ready to learn. It's the ones that don't that take up all those crowded moments during the day. Inevitably, the parents we end up needing to call during the day are exasperated and upset by the interruption. Couldn't we mind their children for just a few hours while they got their own adult lives together? 

And it is usually at this precise moment that the kids who are struggling to get along with the program, Safe Responsible Respectful, that they find their panic. "Don't call my dad/mom/caregiver!" We are implored. There are plenty of examples in which we try to exhaust every other alternative before contacting dad/mom/caregiver because we know where that will lead. 

But sometimes that call home is the culmination of a day or a week or several weeks of deal making and breaking. There is a school full of kids who don't require that special attention who have other needs. Like being taught phonics or math facts or the difference between a city and a state. Nothing would please us more than if we could move through our day without having to stop for the discussions of why we don't hit each other in favor of the path to long division. 

We don't always have that chance. Sometimes we get bogged down in the drama for which many of our kids is every day. I wish I could say that once we have contacted parents that the matter is resolved. On occasion, this is true. Mostly it generates additional drama that swirls around the institution and the people in it. Why can't we be doing our jobs differently and make room for this special child and his or her behaviors? 

We try. 

And we try. 

And eventually we phone home. We're just looking for some help unraveling the knot that was tied before that child got here. 

Sometimes the magic works. Sometimes it doesn't. We're talking with Daryl's grandpa after school. Casually. No calls home. Encouraging talks. 

Stay tuned.