School visit brings out ‘delinquent daddy’

The stress and stains of sixth grade have firmly attached my 11-year-old to my leg. Today I am sitting in the school guidance office trying to work. I got here with the best of intentions, I promise. For my son, the year began with a normal amount of scholarly resistance, and has gone steadily down hill from there.

I have dealt with this before; it’s my second career. It’s a result of having sons who take after their father. I hated school, and now, as punishment, my son’s hate school as well. Actually, that’s not completely true. My middle son takes after his mother; I think. Whether it’s the school he goes to, or some mysterious genetic difference, I don’t know, but he happily goes off, blithely accepting being locked up for six hours every day.

However, here I sit, taking a new tack on the latest manifestation of the school dilemma. This time it’s Dad vs. separation anxiety.

The immediate problem is that the more we discuss my leaving, the harder it gets for him to let go. It has been a tough year for him so far, loads of homework, lots of new organizational tasks, and now, dealing with a bully. I guess I should have some special remedy, something I can pull out of my hat at just the right moment and solve this dilemma. I suppose, I should start with actually wearing a hat.

However, I am trying out a new idea, which seemed clever and chockablock full of understanding when it came to me in the car. Of course, everything sounds clever when trying to leave for the fourth time.

“If I stay at school, will you go to class?”

“I don’t know.”

This was miles better than just plain “no,” which is what I had been hearing all morning.

My problem is that I get so frustrated with his stubbornness, another inherited trait from his father, that I find it difficult to always be understanding. I always seem to lean toward some negative reinforcement, like permanent grounding, maybe even at someone else’s house.

I suppose I should be trying to come up with some brilliant tactic born of deep wisdom. Something like … well, I have no idea.

I am neither brilliant nor deeply wise; my only idea other than staying with him was banging my head on the steering wheel until someone called an ambulance. Since there would be no way the EMTs would let him ride with me; he would have to stay at school.

I don’t want to bring him home; that would be losing too much ground. I don’t suppose I can ask the school to handcuff him to a radiator, enabling my escape, although I really, really want to. So, here I sit, stalemated and in guidance, again.

It seems like “again,” because it’s all so very familiar. That’s probably because I felt the same way when I was my son’s age, and usually ended up in a place just like this. However, I couldn’t go home, I was hundreds of miles away, in boarding school. So, when I had feelings of derision, or longing or homesickness that made it tough for me to go to class, I sat, in a room just like this one, pretending to work and watching the secretary, waiting for something more interesting to happen.

Aha – here’s a break. We have now been moved to the in-school suspension room. That’s a big step up. Maybe we’ll see some really bad students. Students with huge black marks all over their permanent record. I should fit right in. One of my teachers told me I had so many black marks on my permanent record, they were now using a roller.

Darn. Just one other regular boy doing some class work. He doesn’t even look the part of “trouble maker.” Maybe if he had one eye, or a big scar and a permanent snarl. But right now he just looks studious, head down over geometry, another hopeless soul captured by the deadly quiet boredom of the room.

I wish I knew how to get my son to actually like school. Right now, I would settle for his just tolerating school or at the very least, a more comfortable chair. Oh well, like most problems, time and patience will find a way to get us through.

Meanwhile, if the teacher leaves the room, I wonder how long it would take us to climb out that window?