No mustard, no ketchup

There are days that I am reminded that my students are kids.  They may exhibit adult-like behavior at times.  They may write fantastic letters in the character's voice from a recent novel, or they may speak sophisticated about others who bother them.  In the end, they are kids.  Scared at times, troubled, confused, carrying a yoke too burdensome for their age.  Kids.

And other days their parents remind me that they too can be influenced by wanting the very best for their kids. We all want this, to a point.  Many parents desire for their kids to outlast them, outsmart them, outdistance them in their educations, their dreams.  And then every once in a while, we step over the line and try to force the issue.  We, as parents, simply cannot let things be.  We lack trust in their choices.  We lack faith in the people around them, the friends they choose and the teachers that are undoubtedly a large part of their lives.

So today a parent witnesses kids being kids.  Teasing occurs.  Feelings become hurt.  Emotions spike.  The decisions as parents that we make at that moment serve as both a precursor to how we envision our own kids handling that same situation.  If we are calm and handle it without strife, do we make our kids into would-be punching bags?  Or when we lose our tempers in front of them, do we hope that we too will fight for what we believe in?

I saw my mom angry on several occasions.  Frequently it was from wrong orders at the fast food drive in.  "No mustard, no ketchup!"  At times there were curse words.  Other times I probably never knew that she arrived home without the fries, or 4 biscuits short.  Once, after coming home with a friend of mine from a local election party, we were stopped by Houston's finest.  My friend was made ordered to step out of the vehicle.  My mom sat in the back seat, immediately began confronting the young officer.  There was this impassioned speech about civic duty and harassment.  I don't think we got the ticket.  And I have never argued with a police officer.  Once, I remember her claiming an officer entrapped her into a speed zone as he hid behind a dumpster (I think).  My mom still got the ticket.

Once in high school, a car load of friends were pulled over.  We were in a bind.  All underage drinkers, 5 total people in the car that reeked of cheap Boone's that was tossed from the window before we even stopped (by me).  We had a drunk girl in the back seat, perhaps suggestively wishing she's pass out, even accidental removing articles of clothing.

We all had to step from the vehicle.  I admitted to throwing the Boone's, my friend Barry admitted to the car not being his (no, it wasn't stolen, just borrowed from the back seat groper among us).  My friend Juan went into this mexican-man tirade, tempting the cop to arrest us, beat us, whatever.  It was only when we interceded to get him back in the car did the cop release us.  It was the wrong decision to let us go.  I would involve myself with a near DUI months later with different friends, then other mischief.  Perhaps it would have been a sign for my parents to have kept me home.  Choices.

There was always something reserved in me to avoid those types of confrontation.  Perhaps it was the power position.  They had the badge and I didn't.  I once felt superior enough to complain a Wal-Mart when my grill was not assembled.  I even cursed like I'd seen many a white man!  Of course I was wearing my shirt that advertised my school.  That's my luck.

Last year a mom berated me outside my room.  I let her have some back.  I took up for myself.  It was still an embarrassing low light.  My son has never seen me argue with any other adult.  Why should he?  I can't imagine what message he would learn from me if I handled a situation like my parent did this morning.  Confronting a kid.  Eyes burning with vengeance.  After seeing me hug my friends and smile all day, what would he think about me raising my voice to a Wendy's drive-thru worker, his teacher, or one of his friends?

Times do change.  Whenever a crisis happens, I immediately blame my kids first.  I don't take their sides until all the facts have been placed on the table.  I'm old school.  If I would have even been hit by a car as a kid, my grandmother would have said, "Why were you in the road?"  Nowadays, parents over fight.  They pull their students from school when they don't the desired grades.  They move if their son is retained.  They get on the news and demand justice be served when their bratty kid is duct taped in class by a substitute teacher.  And my room 160 students get me.  Teaching them about self-sacrifice and humility.  Don't boast, don't call attention to yourself.

Many of my students have facebooks.  One in particular curses, posts spammed porn, uses extra z's and dollar signs in his posts.  Think he's listening?