"THAT kid"

When I began preparing for Vacation Bible School early this summer, I was excited that I was going to teach Cooper’s class. Typically a high school teacher, for once I was looking forward to teaching the little kids. I had no idea that my very presence in the classroom was going to turn my kid into the dreaded and infamous problem child: the one who forces new teachers out of the profession, and sends experienced ones to the nut house. The kid who sits behind you in the movie theater and talks and asks questions and throws popcorn in your hair throughout the entire show, and whose mother allows him to do it. The kid who, without fail, is a continuous crying, screaming, silverware-banging mess, and always seems to be seated at the table next to you in a restaurant not meant for kids. That was us. We were that kid.

I say “we” because as a parent, if you’ve ever been in a situation where your child is the most obnoxious kid in the building, you better believe every adult in the room is blaming you. Or at least that’s how I felt that first week in June.

VBS at our church lasted four nights. After the first night, I thought I was going to have to resort to sending my kid to the preacher’s office for some major one on one, religious instruction. Give him the fear of God sermon or something serious like that. But I decided to think positively; maybe it was just a one time thing. After all, I typically get great reports on Cooper’s behavior in class, so unless those ravings are secret code for “Honey, you’ve really got your hands full” then I had no choice but to give him a second chance and see how he would fare on night two.

There are times in life when positive thinking is quite useful. Other times it is sheer ignorance. On a scale of one to ten, night two was an 11, leaving a somewhat worse impression of my child and my parenting skills on my co-teacher than the night before.

I considered many options, taking him out in the hall and beating him senseless being at the top of my list; however, I wasn’t sure that would leave the door open for me to re-enter the classroom and finish teaching the kids how to be good neighbors for Jesus. So we just rode out the rest of the evening with lots of “mean mommy looks” and redirection and the unproductive “Just you wait till your Daddy finds out” statement that I swore I’d never use. I thought that night would never end.

Day three might have been the most painful of all. It was my turn to teach the class and my co-teacher’s turn to be the helper. As I began the evening trying to concentrate on the other students and our lesson, my attention was constantly drawn to my helper who seemed to be focusing her attention on my son. While he was trying to do better on night three, it seemed my assistant had in the forefront of her memory his inappropriate and unforgettable behaviors of the two nights before, when she was trying to teach the lesson. Needless to say, it was my kid the teacher’s helper had to sit next to during story time.
It was my kid who needed a hand placed firmly on his shoulder to remind him to “use his inside voice”. It was my kid’s name that was ringing in everyone’s ears hours after VBS had ended. Yes, we were that kid.

When we got home from the church building that night, I could do nothing but clean. I was so embarrassed and frustrated with my boy that I was the one who needed a time out. As I came down off of my two hour cleansing frenzy and stood at the sink doing my last bit of dishes, Cooper pulled up a chair beside me and asked if he could help. With a half-hearted grunt, I helped him up to the sink and handed him a rag. As we stood there together, I decided to have a talk with him about his behavior at VBS.

My tone was flat, and my words were matter of fact when I told him that I was disappointed when he misbehaved in Bible class. I told him that God was disappointed, too. I guess he surmised that disappointed meant somewhere in the vicinity of upset and let down because he said, “If I act nice in Bible class, then God and Mommy won’t be sad with me.” I answered that he was exactly right, and together we finished the dishes as a team, just like we’d been doing them together for years. I prayed our talk would “take”.

It was day four, the last day of VBS, D-Day. I was much more relaxed and was again optimistic about our last night of class together. As it turned out, Cooper was the star pupil that evening. He couldn’t have been a more attentive, enthusiastic, contributing student if he had been sitting at the feet of Mr. Roger’s himself.

The week of events made me think about the pressure, intended or not, that we as parents must put on our kids because of our professions, our attitudes, or simply our presence. If the parent is a teacher, the kid has to be the best student. If the parent’s an athlete, he better be an all-star, at least in our children’s eyes. Maybe I put some unintended pressure on my kid those first three nights of class. Maybe my perception of his behavior was much worse than anyone else’s. Or maybe he’s two and a half, and he’s just going to have days when he decides he wants to be two and a half.

Whatever the case, as the parent I guess I’m supposed to learn something from the experience-something about expectations or anxiety or communication. I’m making a list of those lessons and pondering the solutions, as I know our boys will continue to create many more teachable moments for their mom in the years to come. First on my list…for their safety (and my sanity), I’m devising a plan to ensure that I never have to be their principal.

And that’s All in a day’s work!