The Trouble With...(Pt. 5)

“Hell Is For Children.” It’s a powerful song. It is about child abuse. It is also a great rock song. And if you happen to play that music all of the time, your kids will hear it. If you aren’t paying attention, don’t worry! They are. While you might not think it makes any difference because you are so used to hearing it, rest assured, it does!

We moved into the third grade. We were developing some fine motor skills. Really fine. The class was given a project in which each student was to draw a picture showing ‘action.’ For example, it couldn’t be just a house or a tree or an animal. It had to be an animal biting someone, or the tree…falling over, or the house…burning down…perhaps. I suppose this is quite difficult for a third grader. You haven’t learned to draw much of anything, let alone something ‘moving.’ In fact, now that I think about it, maybe this would be hard for most people. When was the last time you tried to draw an ‘action?’ Don’t fret, this is not a test. If this were an actual test, you would have been instructed to remain calm, sit up straight in your seat, have your pencil ready, and color within the circle ONLY. Because making marks outside of the lines is cause for expulsion. About that song…

Every morning, after breakfast and running around looking for whatever we needed for school and searching for lunch money, we would jump in the car and GO! There was just enough time for one song on the way to school. Justin would cue up that tape. (Don’t get funny. I know I said tape. It was a cassette tape. NOT an 8-track tape. It’s Pat Benatar, not Pat Boone.) We would play that song and sing along as loud as we could. Sometimes we would listen to it on the way home, too. It’s a good song! This was our routine for weeks.

I remember it was chilly the day we went in for our parent-teacher conference. It wasn’t quite spring in northern Ohio, but winter had almost melted away. I still wore a bulky winter coat even though I could have put on a sweater and been warm enough. You were too cold in the shade than you wanted to be, but too hot in your coat if you stood in the sun. That’s the kind of day it was. I am reminded in this moment how comical parents really are when forced to sit in their children’s desks. The desks are designed for small people. Picture this in your mind because the whole scene is about to get funny enough to reduce you to tears. We squeezed into the desks. The desk and chair are attached so the kids can’t make a lot of noise or tip their chairs back, etc. Our bodies barely fit. Our big, bulky coats making the whole process that much more difficult. Why didn’t we take our coats off? The same reason any parent doesn’t. There’s no problem with our kid! We’re not going to be here long! Let’s get this mandatory thing out of the way as soon as possible and get out of here! There’s no need to remove the coat. You only remove your coat to let the teacher know you intend to bring up some issues and you might be a while. It makes them nervous. Right? We listened to the same things over and over again. “He’s doing great. I have no problems with him. He knows how to do all of the work. He understands everything. If he doesn’t understand something, he cries until we can figure it out together. He is an overachiever. He could have straight ‘A’s’ if he would just turn in homework. Is there a problem at home?” Are you kidding? “Of course there’s no problem. You said it yourself. He knows how to do all of the work.” Justin always felt and argued that if he already knew it and understood, why should he waste his time ‘practicing’ it? It didn’t make sense to him. I argued that he could just do it to get the ‘A.’ He said the grade wasn’t important. He said if they didn’t care whether or not he actually knew it, then why would the grade matter? (This logic from an elementary student.) So, why would she think there was a problem? This conference was different.

The teacher handed us the picture of the special project. She said she was very concerned and wanted to talk to us before taking any action. She said she didn’t think Justin seemed like an abused child. What? WHAT? I took one look at the picture and was in total awe! He had drawn the most incredible picture depicting a child falling off a swing (great action!) with his father standing behind him holding out a toy. The lyrics were printed over it like it was coming out of a radio, “Be a good little boy and you’ll get a new toy. Tell Grandma you fell off the swing.” There were musical notes and a music staff. There was so much detail with little drawings all around in each corner of the paper. I thought it was genius (but he is my son, after all!) I was raving about it. “Eh-hum.” She cleared her throat. I looked up from my tiny seat and saw her glaring at me. I thought I was the third-grader all of a sudden. She seemed perturbed that I would be so nonchalant about such matters. Immediately I tried to explain the artwork and the song and that he probably didn’t understand the significance. I mean, he’s only a kid! He doesn’t know! I told her what he had done was extraordinary. I stumbled over my words and felt very small. She scolded me for letting him listen to such music that he would be influenced by and yet obviously didn’t understand.

“Yes, teacher.”

"How can you expect him to be like the other children and fit in if you fill his head full of nonsense like that?” She quizzed.

“I don’t know, teacher.”

Trying to get up, the desk moved with me, as if to say, “Don’t go! Don’t let her talk to you like that!” But I felt sorry for her. I wished she knew how to teach to all kids, not to make them fit some mold. Go ahead, wipe those tears. You know if you had been there, you would have been laughing at me. Seriously, Hell may be for children, but Satan rules parent-teacher conferences!