As usual, I picked Kyle, our son up from elementary school. The minute he climbed into the car and clasped himself into his car seat, he wiggled around as if his underwear was too tight. "Kyle, what’s wrong?” I asked.
He furrowed his eyebrows and squirmed even more. I wondered what had happened at school that made him anxious but waited patiently. My first grader fiddled with his seatbelt. “You’re going to get mad at me.” He gave a dramatic pause. “We were coloring and...and... I drew a penis on my dinosaur, so my teacher sent me to the principal’s office.”
I lassoed that giggle down and cleared my throat. “Kyle, that’s an inappropriate thing to have drawn at school. Let’s not do that again. Okay?” A soft giggle started at the base of my throat and slowly worked its way up. Then I realized I can’t let him know that this is funny or he’s going to do it again. I pursed my lips to suppress my laugh.
I still can't picture it, can you?
“Okay,” he replied, still sounding upset.
“Kyle, I’m not mad. Things like that happen sometimes. But now you know you shouldn’t draw things like that at school.” I watched as his facial muscles relaxed. But internally, I was pissed. Why did his teacher have to overreact? Kids are kids. I’m sure all he needed was his teacher to tell him that it was not okay, but she didn't have to send him to the principal’s office. I wanted to leave a message for her to call me, but I decided to wait until the following day, so I could cool down.
At the dinner table, we were laughing about something when I decided to share Kyle’s artistic experience, thinking Alan would find it funny since he was a guy, but Alan’s face became stoic, and his voice lowered. “Kyle, you know better than that. I’m very disappointed in you.”
I rushed in to save him. “Alan, it was an accident.”
“It sounds like he was trying to get attention. Don’t do that again.” Alan scooped up a spoonful of ice cream.
“Okay.” Kyle's eyes lowered as if he, too, were disappointed in himself.
“Gagi.” Nicole sang out,our three-year-old daughter interrupting the silence. She held out her spoon, offering him a scoop of ice cream. I wonder if she was trying to lighten the mood.
“No, thank you, Nikki.” He had declined since he had his own sitting in front of him, untouched.
I changed my mind about calling Mrs. Border, his teacher when the next day Kyle handed me a piece of paper in regards to an Open House the following week. I decided to wait until then to talk to his teacher in person.
Tons of parents were in the room, but few kids. The school had asked for families to get daycare, if possible. There was hardly a seat left in that room. Mrs. Bordier had jet black hair and her skin always looked as if she was a sun worshipper. She asked us to find our child’s folder and go ahead and sit down and look through it. After a few minutes, she stood in front of the class and shared what the kids were learning and how we could help them. Then she started walking around talking to the parents individually about the work that was in their portfolio. Some parents had to excuse themselves as they had to visit other classrooms. I waited patiently because I wanted to talk to her about the penis incident when there were fewer people around. (Alan had stayed home to watch our kids.)
Mrs. Bordier stood by me with this huge smile. "I'm impressed with how well Kyle is doing in class this year. “He’s matured a lot.” (She had had him as a kindergartner a few years earlier.)
I stood up to discuss the penis problem, but she bubbled into the next sentence. “Last week I had passed out various photocopies of prehistoric animals so the students could color them, and in a few minutes, I heard an explosion of laughter and giggles. There was a circle of kids surrounding Kyle. I hurried over and took the photocopy from him. He had decided to add an appendage to his dinosaur. I didn't know what to say, so I sent him to the Principal’s office."
“Yes, Kyle had told me.” Since I was a teacher also, I was just about to tell her what she should have done, but she continued.
“I shouldn’t have sent him out. Instead, I should have told the class maybe that’s why dinosaurs became extinct; not all of them had a peepee. ( Honestly, I can't remember what she called it. Mrs. Bordier was much like me as a teacher. She might have said penis.) "That was a teaching moment that I let pass by because I had overreacted.”
I smiled, remembering how easy it was sometimes not to deal with the problem and just get the student out of the room because you’re trying to teach a lesson. “Thank you. I know how hard it is to think on the cuff. I make plenty of mistakes in the classroom and have to go back and correct them or apologize.” She was already a fabulous teacher in my family’s eyes. She didn't expect her young students to sit quietly while they were doing their work and often times allowed them to work with others as long as they were working. Mrs. B. accepted everyone on their individual level. And she accepted my child with his easy to frustrate personality Admitting to her mistake only placed her higher on the rung of perfection.
The following morning I shared with Kyle what his teacher had said and he beamed. “She already apologized to me in class.” Well, that impressed me even more.
That’s one of the things my high school students complained about, that teachers don’t apologize when they make a mistake. But there are so many other qualities that some teachers don't have which blow me away: They don't like kids. How can someone choose a profession and yet not like them? It was obvious that Mrs.Bordier not only loved kids and teaching, but she was confident in herself, that when she made a mistake, she could admit to it. She taught these kids a life lesson.
