A father's job is never done
As is my custom, I conduct a post mortem of the day during dinner.
Between rounds of hectoring NTS to please for the love of all that is holy quit daydreaming and finish his dinner, I was interrogating NOS on the details of how his day had unfolded. 99.9% of the time, it's the same stuff...what books they are reading, what tests they have upcoming, pending visits to assorted musea and I do my paternal best tofeign take a serious interest in all.the.bloody.minutiæ. ("I'd like to thank the Academy...")
But this time was different. Which just goes to show how you may be called upon to impart a life lesson at any time.
In his class, NOS has a group project* wherein they have to come up with a game related to a an almost certainly foul** book titled The Whipping Boy. In an exposition of brainpower in action, NOS's teacher decided to let the kids form their own groups. Yeah.
So, as a consequence, some kids had a bit of a rough time getting into a group. You'd think interviews, references, test scores and family connections were needed. But most got in without too harrowing a time of it. Most. Not all.
One kid was shuffled from group to group until he landed in NOS's. From the standpoint of 9 year olds, I can see why. Child X is considered, frankly, an outright weirdo by his peers. Not eccentric (NOS is pretty much the tolerable limit of eccentricity at his school) but weird, and undesirably so. He spends his free time spouting tabloid-worthy factoids on aliens, ancient civilizations, mummies, paranormal phenomena, etc.
Therefore he gets no traction, socially. Seeing NOS's group as a sort of last refuge he joined. To the consternation of NOS's friend R. It bears noting that R. is no prize his own bad self. R's new task in life is to effect the egress of Child X from the group and during the time he is assiduously endeavoring towards that goal, become as unpleasant as possible.
The problem with Child X is that his parents just wrapped up a very long, nasty, vitriolic divorce. My guesstimate is that all of this was not kept from Child X. Dad X is now dating a younger (allegedly French, FWIW) woman whose only real skills, I surmise, are not likely to be ever given public evidence, unless there is a case of snakebite nearby, with which circumstance she would be admirably suited to cope. Mom X is a specimen herself (marrying a man 25 years your senior with a, um, previous track record of Not Good At The Lifelong Thing is not something that inspires confidence). Any woman who lets her kid go about school with a pageboy haircut when the all other boys are all within one standard deviation of "crew cut" is not a woman who has...what you'd call a choke hold on reality.
Prior to this, I had to tell NOS to stop teasing Child X about that whole French lady thing. Child X was going off on one of his tirades about aliens and mummies and how all the other kids were idiots--IDIOTS!--for not believing until one day it'll be too late...and NOS said something smartassed*** about X's dad and the French lady. So I had to correct, NOS rather sharply on the matter, and afterwards explain to him why I had to issue such a sharp correction.
I 'splained that Mr. & Mrs. X had decided that it was time they tormented other people and having jettisoned each other (in Dad X's case, again) in a very mean, contentious way...it probably messed up X rather badly. "He probably feels very unwanted and unnoticed and that's why he is saying outlandish things. He's probably a good kid, who got very hurt and this is the only way he has figured out to deal with things. You're very lucky Mom and I love each other and all that. If--God forbid--we ever got a divorce, you'd probably get kinda weird yourself. Why, if R's parents ever got divorced--God forbid some more--you know that R would totally go triple-turbo weird, right?"
To which NOS nodded assent.
I further explained that since he had been elected group captain, he had to show some leadership. He was to take R. aside and explain the above and tell him to stop acting like a sniveling imbecile**** and cut Child X some slack.
Me: Tell R. that, on top of it all, it's Lent, and he should try to be charitable.
NOS: He said he doesn't care about Lent.
Me: Tell him he will burn in everlasting Hellfire.
(pause)
Me: Wait. Don't tell him that.***** Tell him that if Sister Principal finds out, she will not be pleased with him. At all.
NOS: OK. Can I tell him he is a jerk?
Me: Hmm. That's tough. (pause) Tell him that you don't want him acting like a jerk. So if he tells on you, then you can honestly say you didn't call him a jerk.
NOS: OK. Oh, and D. bopped me in the face with his lunchbox****** so I kicked him.
Me: Where?
NOS: At the bottom of the stairwell.
Me: No. Um, what part of D. did you kick?
NOS: Shin. My backpack is pretty heavy. I didn't want to fall.
Me: Very sensible.
NOS: What do I do if D. starts trouble? [D. is also in the project group]
Me: Just say to him "What are you going to do, hit me with your purse again?"
NOS: [Loud burst of laughter] Yeah!
Me: But back to Child X. I want you to be nice to him...
NOS: But he's a weirdo!!
Me: I'm [vexed pause] not asking you to become his blood brother or to donate a kidney. I just want you to be c-h-a-r-i-t-a-b-l-e to him. Don't pick on him, don't tease him, and don't put up with anyone who does the same. Look, a real man is someone who stands between someone who is hurt or weak or helpless and something terrible or mean. Do you get that?
NOS: Yeah.
Me: I'm not asking you to be his best friend for life. I'm not asking you to be his bodyguard. All I'm asking you to treat him fairly and not let people tease or bully him. That's all. Do you understand that?
And then I had to go back to holler at NTS who was blowing bubbles with this milk.
Oy.
Parenting.
-J.
* I am, and have been for quite some time (possibly decades) of the opinion group projects are an abysmal waste of time.
** If the subject is called "Language Arts" instead of "English" the books are far more likely to be abysmal.
*** Gee, where'd he get that?
**** I think I actually said "goofball"
***** I was tempted to say "Let the little @#$%er be surprised."
****** Now I know why they stopped making the metal lunchboxes.
Between rounds of hectoring NTS to please for the love of all that is holy quit daydreaming and finish his dinner, I was interrogating NOS on the details of how his day had unfolded. 99.9% of the time, it's the same stuff...what books they are reading, what tests they have upcoming, pending visits to assorted musea and I do my paternal best to
But this time was different. Which just goes to show how you may be called upon to impart a life lesson at any time.
In his class, NOS has a group project* wherein they have to come up with a game related to a an almost certainly foul** book titled The Whipping Boy. In an exposition of brainpower in action, NOS's teacher decided to let the kids form their own groups. Yeah.
So, as a consequence, some kids had a bit of a rough time getting into a group. You'd think interviews, references, test scores and family connections were needed. But most got in without too harrowing a time of it. Most. Not all.
One kid was shuffled from group to group until he landed in NOS's. From the standpoint of 9 year olds, I can see why. Child X is considered, frankly, an outright weirdo by his peers. Not eccentric (NOS is pretty much the tolerable limit of eccentricity at his school) but weird, and undesirably so. He spends his free time spouting tabloid-worthy factoids on aliens, ancient civilizations, mummies, paranormal phenomena, etc.
Therefore he gets no traction, socially. Seeing NOS's group as a sort of last refuge he joined. To the consternation of NOS's friend R. It bears noting that R. is no prize his own bad self. R's new task in life is to effect the egress of Child X from the group and during the time he is assiduously endeavoring towards that goal, become as unpleasant as possible.
The problem with Child X is that his parents just wrapped up a very long, nasty, vitriolic divorce. My guesstimate is that all of this was not kept from Child X. Dad X is now dating a younger (allegedly French, FWIW) woman whose only real skills, I surmise, are not likely to be ever given public evidence, unless there is a case of snakebite nearby, with which circumstance she would be admirably suited to cope. Mom X is a specimen herself (marrying a man 25 years your senior with a, um, previous track record of Not Good At The Lifelong Thing is not something that inspires confidence). Any woman who lets her kid go about school with a pageboy haircut when the all other boys are all within one standard deviation of "crew cut" is not a woman who has...what you'd call a choke hold on reality.
Prior to this, I had to tell NOS to stop teasing Child X about that whole French lady thing. Child X was going off on one of his tirades about aliens and mummies and how all the other kids were idiots--IDIOTS!--for not believing until one day it'll be too late...and NOS said something smartassed*** about X's dad and the French lady. So I had to correct, NOS rather sharply on the matter, and afterwards explain to him why I had to issue such a sharp correction.
I 'splained that Mr. & Mrs. X had decided that it was time they tormented other people and having jettisoned each other (in Dad X's case, again) in a very mean, contentious way...it probably messed up X rather badly. "He probably feels very unwanted and unnoticed and that's why he is saying outlandish things. He's probably a good kid, who got very hurt and this is the only way he has figured out to deal with things. You're very lucky Mom and I love each other and all that. If--God forbid--we ever got a divorce, you'd probably get kinda weird yourself. Why, if R's parents ever got divorced--God forbid some more--you know that R would totally go triple-turbo weird, right?"
To which NOS nodded assent.
I further explained that since he had been elected group captain, he had to show some leadership. He was to take R. aside and explain the above and tell him to stop acting like a sniveling imbecile**** and cut Child X some slack.
Me: Tell R. that, on top of it all, it's Lent, and he should try to be charitable.
NOS: He said he doesn't care about Lent.
Me: Tell him he will burn in everlasting Hellfire.
(pause)
Me: Wait. Don't tell him that.***** Tell him that if Sister Principal finds out, she will not be pleased with him. At all.
NOS: OK. Can I tell him he is a jerk?
Me: Hmm. That's tough. (pause) Tell him that you don't want him acting like a jerk. So if he tells on you, then you can honestly say you didn't call him a jerk.
NOS: OK. Oh, and D. bopped me in the face with his lunchbox****** so I kicked him.
Me: Where?
NOS: At the bottom of the stairwell.
Me: No. Um, what part of D. did you kick?
NOS: Shin. My backpack is pretty heavy. I didn't want to fall.
Me: Very sensible.
NOS: What do I do if D. starts trouble? [D. is also in the project group]
Me: Just say to him "What are you going to do, hit me with your purse again?"
NOS: [Loud burst of laughter] Yeah!
Me: But back to Child X. I want you to be nice to him...
NOS: But he's a weirdo!!
Me: I'm [vexed pause] not asking you to become his blood brother or to donate a kidney. I just want you to be c-h-a-r-i-t-a-b-l-e to him. Don't pick on him, don't tease him, and don't put up with anyone who does the same. Look, a real man is someone who stands between someone who is hurt or weak or helpless and something terrible or mean. Do you get that?
NOS: Yeah.
Me: I'm not asking you to be his best friend for life. I'm not asking you to be his bodyguard. All I'm asking you to treat him fairly and not let people tease or bully him. That's all. Do you understand that?
And then I had to go back to holler at NTS who was blowing bubbles with this milk.
Oy.
Parenting.
-J.
* I am, and have been for quite some time (possibly decades) of the opinion group projects are an abysmal waste of time.
** If the subject is called "Language Arts" instead of "English" the books are far more likely to be abysmal.
*** Gee, where'd he get that?
**** I think I actually said "goofball"
***** I was tempted to say "Let the little @#$%er be surprised."
****** Now I know why they stopped making the metal lunchboxes.
Comments
And not because of Lent.
I wish all parents took that kind of time with their kids.
That's just the tint you chose. But did you listen?
J.J.,
I was actually softselling the thing!
C.,
I am glad to see that you understood clearly where I was going with that.
-J.
Utter Horror.
I still remember how much fun blowing bubbles in my milk was but I get absolutely exasperated when my kids do it!
Great story, thanks for the laugh. I think your boys will turn out to be very nice young men indeed. Especially given their pasta-making skills.
i share your views on group projects - and i hate them because, being competent and intelligent, i seem to be the one who winds up doing most of the work - grad school was sadly a hotbed of grooup projects which is also why you should never be impressed with someone who has advanced degrees just because of the degrees.
-J.