Lots

I wish for every school to have the kind of attention and care that is provided to our school by our principal. Last Friday at the end of a somewhat typically busy day, she made a point to shout to one of our third grade boys, "Happy Birthday! I love you!" The most special thing about that interaction is how much it is not unique. She ends most every announcement with her trademark phrase, "Love you lots!" 

And she means it. 

Here is the truth: I know that there are plenty of schools across this great big world where that kind of devotion to a group of children is part of the overarching scheme of things. In spite of the number of Dickensian tropes that might make you believe otherwise, people who get into education and stay are devoted to their students. I feel this same way, but I confess to having a mildly cynical streak (please no snickers here) that sometimes undercuts that connection. And yet, here I go again, talking about that most important part of my job: The Human Connection. 

While I aspire to make the same level of bond with the short people at my job that my principal does, I confess that experience has made me wary. I know that in a moment those relationships can be scuttled by a frustrated parent or a miscommunication that puts me back into that bin of authority figures that are known simply for the oppression that they bring. I tell children and families "no" more often than I might like, but it is the way that we do business. 

No, you can't take your cell phone to the bathroom to record Tik Tok videos. 

No, you can't stay out on the playground after everyone else has gone inside. 

No, you can't bring your BB gun to school and show it off to your friends via social media posts that you cobble together during your recess. 

That last one came up at the end of last week and it was piled on top of a rather solid stack of "no" responses. My principal and I waded through the safety concerns and the reality of the situation with the boys who got it into their collective heads that this would be a cool thing. Then we had to discuss it with the parents who had varying degrees of appreciation for just how difficult this flurry of macho posing could be for all the students in the school. 

And for their sons. 

As the smoke began to clear and all the phone calls, emails and sundry communications that accompany such an even had been made, it was clear that this one had taken a toll on our principal. It had stretched her love much farther than a regular day. But what is a regular day in an urban school?

I'll let you know when I experience one. For the time being I can tell you that my principal loves those boys too. Lots. 

And so do I.