She came bouncing out of the school doors. As soon as I saw it, I knew why there was even more pep in her normally bouncy gait. As soon as I saw it, I groaned an almost audible “fuuuuuhhck… nooooo…”
Bob.
Bob the Owl. The classroom “pet.” Every kid in kindergarten gets to take Bob home for a day or two and catalog the events of the visit. Photo ops and a few sentences. It’s a delightfully engaging activity and one that the kids in our school look forward to all kindergarten and remember fondly in the years to come. As my daughter strutted Bob across the playground, every kid after school that day ooohed and aahhed with the memories. The other moms gave me tender glances of sympathy – “Poor gal. Her night just took a turn.”
The thing about Bob is that Bob comes without warning. As almost all school projects do to some extent. Two months. Two weeks. Two days. Two minutes. I have never found the “perfect” amount of preparation.
Maybe it’s the late-in-the-year activity when activities are piling up across the board. Maybe it’s the expectation behind the assignment (When did Martha Stewart move to this school? No, we can’t take Bob on a roller coaster. There’s not even a roller coaster in town! I don’t care what Jimmy did with Bob, at our house we read books.) I just know Bob seems to feel like the culmination of all things about class assignments that make moms like me want to go screaming into the night. Or at the very least seriously consider if this education thing is truly necessary.
I had a shitty day at work. Nothing went according to plan and I felt like I was trying to motor through quicksand in everything I did. The feeling was made worse in that my workday had to be cut short because all of my kids’ activities fall on the same night.
The back of my mom ride was packed with our evening’s activity paraphernalia. My command center on wheels since we wouldn’t see home that night for 5 more hours. My daughter’s violin and workbook for her lessons. My son’s uniform for cub scouts and the Capri Suns and granola bars since it was our turn to provide snacks. Tablets and headphones for the non-participant to sit through their sibling’s activity without being too much of a pain (for me). Some bookkeeping I volunteer my time for that I was hoping I could squeeze in. My night was already packed and Bob’s presence just felt like one more thing to do with all the other things. “Does it never end?” I wanted to whine.
But there’s my daughter’s delighted face. And my son’s excitement at her excitement and his memories. “Remember when Bob did dishes with us?!” “Can Bob come to violin?” “You hafta take a picture of me and Bob at dinner!” These two with their big smiles and view of the world through kid goggles did not need me and my pessimistic mom reality to crush them.
We lugged Bob to all the things. We explained and introduced him everywhere we went. We posed for pictures outside the restaurant in between activities. He was coddled and cuddled and wrapped up so he didn’t get cold (it was 78 degrees). To strangers who didn’t get the explanation I may have looked crazy or overbearing, my kids may have looked needy or clingy. I didn’t care, I had an assignment to do, damnit! I mean… my daughter had an assignment to do… *cough*
As I made my bed the next morning I ran through my mental list of my to-dos for the day which now included creating a scrapbook page of the photos we took last night. I prayed to the patron saint of ink cartridges that we had enough ink to get it done. That’s the last thing I need – to run out of ink tonight! I whined some more about this assignment and how much effort it was taking and how I just don’t have time for this! Why didn’t anyone clear it with me if this would be convenient?
But then I tried to remember the last time I had anything that was convenient.
Even the convenience of curbside grocery pick up isn’t actually convenient. Groceries that I need magically appearing in my cabinet would be 100% convenient. Everything else has a level of inconvenience.
I didn’t get to decide when my babies were born. It took three years for us to get the first one. The second one was born 13 months later. Neither of those were convenient.
My husband falling off a roof and plunging us into financial devastation was not on either of our bucket lists. And if God had asked “Hey! Your husband’s gonna have an accident – what day can I put him down for?” I would’ve said “Uh… NEVER!” (no matter what my husband may tell you)
Life surprises us all day long. A stop light here, an illness there, a chance encounter there. Why do I expect my children and their needs to fit into neat little pockets I carve out for them?
My daughter convinced me that it would be ok to take Bob back to school before he was due back. According to her he gets to hang out with the kids in class. Fine. I was in no mood to argue with a 6-year old about what was or wasn’t allowed in her class. Let Bob be her teacher’s problem since it was her genius idea. When her teacher texted me that morning asking if we wanted him back, my first instinct was “No! I’m done!” but I knew my daughter would be devastated to not get him for that one more night. I explained my suspicion of her motives – to hang out with Bob all day in school and show him off.
The teacher’s reply shocked the hell out of me. “That’s a good idea! Maybe next year.” All I could think was – lady, are you CRAZY??? All I could think of was the fights. The distractions. How many times in a day the animal would be tossed in the air. How it could possibly survive a daily tug-of-war. I shook my head and thanked God for this teacher. Where I see problems, she sees enrichment. What I see as headaches, she thinks of how much the kids will learn from it. The same woman who hatches chickens in her classroom!
God creates us all for very specific purposes. He did NOT create me to be a teacher. Especially a kindergarten teacher. But teachers – especially those really good teachers – were created for the explicit purpose of leading these tiny minds into the most magical of places. And thankfully my children don’t have to rely on me for their enrichment – they would be screwed and I would be a raving lunatic. Thank God for teachers!