We were high on life last Friday. Eight-year-old Liam had just passed some district math test with high marks…Glowing with pride and the customary Friday-Thank God This Week is Over, relief, responsible, rule-following, Cub Scout Liam and I arrived at Lexy’s Christian preschool to pick up Alexander, who, in an unfortunate opposite, had just had his very own, “terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.”
I was mimed via a, “Talk to the Hand,” gesture through the window to wait outside the door by the 20-something, newly hired preschool aftercare teacher with her perky nose ring. She has recently replaced a much-loved older woman who left suddenly. Miss X eventually came out with a clipboard and an ominous “Incident Report.” I am very familiar with these–Lex suffered two concussions within a month at his previous preschool before I moved him here.
My heart was in my throat. “Oh, Goodness. He’s fallen again. That can’t be good.” But, OOOOHHH, No. For the first time in my life, I was confronted with outside the family circle proof that Alexander is NOT a rule follower, and will do what suits him when he thinks the system stinks.
Wearing a pensive expression, her short, modern ponytails bobbing nervously on either side of her skunk-like streaked bangs, the sweet Miss X proceeded to inform me that Lex had hidden behind a bush after having been in line to return to class at recess–so essentially he lined up and then, when her back was turned to walk the kids in, he bolted for the nearest bush. This is of course an issue because of, A. Willful disobedience, B. Trickery, and, C. She had to get another teacher to watch her class while she went scouting bushes to find my recalcitrant son. In addition, although she had never seen him in her three weeks there be anything but quiet and cooperative, today he had gotten rough with another child, and for the first time refused to look at this teacher or acknowledge her presence at all.
While this monologue was delivered, over the head of my supposed devil-spawn, I could feel my face grow red, and my eldest son, unable to contain himself, asked, “Lex, why would you do all that?” From under his U-shaped brown eyebrows–the sole feature inherited from his father–his brown eyes impenetrable, Alexander responded stubbornly, “Hard to tell.”
As I might in her shoes, I could feel the young woman’s eyes taking me in, wondering what kind of parenting would elicit such rebellion, and in the flurry of thousands of thoughts that spin in your mind at such a time, I was wondering myself. Liam had never disobeyed a teacher, EVER, or touched another child, or deliberately ignored ANYONE other than his parents, and they have both been raised in the same house, by the same people, haven’t they? Where had I gone wrong? I sighed, knowing from Lex’s response that I would get to the bottom of it later, and asked him to apologize to Miss X and assure her none of it would happen again. He did so, sincerely, and she softened and smiled as we left.
Liam was a font of questions as we left. I parked Alexander’s little butt on a bench outside the school’s chapel and told him there would be no technology or TV until after dinner. He took this punishment silently, and when I asked again what prompted the behavior, he said, “She wastes my time on the playground with DUMB games, and I get no sand time. John is mean all the time and I would spit nails at him if I could.”
Liam got it…Putting his arm around his younger brother, heads together, he said sagely, nodding, “Ah, she’s strict, right?” Lex asked what that means…”It means she makes school hard on you and doesn’t let do things you like.”
“Yeah, She’s strict,” Lexy asserted as I buckled him into the car seat. He and Liam continued to compare notes on what this means for the hard-knock school-age kid in the back, and Alexander expounded further, “I stayed behind because I hate that she wasted my time and we always play these dumb games now and Mrs. Silver never did that.”
Ahhh..Now we are getting to it. He misses Mrs. Silver, who spent hours reading with him, and loved him dearly. As we were turning into my driveway, I said, “Honey, maybe you should talk to Miss X more and read with her or maybe talk with her about Harry Potter.” (SIDE NOTE: My boys are mad for all things Harry Potter and my husband regales them with extensions of the stories as though they attend Hogwarts about once a week.)
At this point Alexander actually scoffed, showing his complete disdain for this poor woman , as only a 5-year-old can. “She doesn’t even understand Harry Potter at all. She thinks they are MAGICIANS, when they are WIZARDS.”
I demurred, saying, “Well, honey, it’s close enough.” Both boys, bonded by their shared passion protested loudly in unison..”NOOO.” And Lex explained, “Magicians do illusions. Illusions appear real, but aren’t. Wizards make magic, which is real.”
I had to laugh…I fear that error may be irretrievable for poor Miss X.
Lex took his punishment with no complaint, I called the school to let them know what he said, and suggested Mrs. X could spend a little more quality time with him if possible. They explained that group games are now necessary based on class size, and I hope all will be well.
Adventures in Boydom 