Me all year: “As a tutor, I am so damn tired of being treated as if I’m a nanny, dog-walker, or housekeeper– aka, ‘The Help.’ I have an advanced degree and academic expertise. I am not the help.”
Me at Christmas: “NO TIP!? But you tipped all the other help!”
(Part of the Ebola Mom series)
Pretty sure she literally has us all programmed in her phone as “The Help.”
“No.”
— Kid, when I enthusiastically asked if she was ready and excited to learn.
I really need some reassurance here because I totally feel like the Grinch who stole childhood. But this was justified, right?
Background: kid across the hall constantly plays soccer in the hallway. Literally uses people’s apartment doors as goals. Now that the weather is getting colder, these indoor soccer sessions are increasing, and lasting for hours. No, I have no idea why he isn’t in school. He’s at least 11 years old.
So parents out there, it’s ok that I went and ruined this kid’s fun, correct? I’m not a mean old cranky neighbor lady, right? It was justified, don’t you think?*
*In case the leading questions didn’t make this obvious, I am seeking agreement responses only. This is not a situation where I am interested in diverse opinions. Solely looking to avoid guilt tears as I sit here typing common-sore aligned math problems beneath the glow of my therapy lamp.
PreK kid: “My mom is from vagina.”
He meant Virginia, but still technically correct.
Kid who never completes the homework I leave for him proudly hands me his work…
Kid: “You’ll be so happy– I did ALL the homework!”
Me: “Fabulous!” (look at sheet. See it’s incomplete. Stare at child, confused)
Kid: “…that I had time for.”
A 5th grader I tutor, who is generally not one to open up about anything personal, expressed to me that he was really devastated by the results of the election, and that he found it personally hurtful that anyone would vote for a bully like Donald Trump. I told him that what he was feeling was the same thing half the country was feeling, and that he has every right to feel saddened by what has happened. I then decided to use his emotional experience as an opportunity for him to practice his writing skills. We were about to start a narrative piece, and I had prepared a topic that I thought he, in his classic boy-ness, would enjoy: “Imagine you have a superpower for a day.” Getting him to write can be a painful process and I knew he’d think this topic was fun. But given that he was grappling with all these emotions from the election, I proposed that instead he write about his experience of disappointment and anger (and perhaps he’d mature a bit in the process).
Me: “Writers are often inspired by what happens in their lives, and usually the most powerful pieces of writing come from a place of genuine, deep emotion. I think what you are experiencing right now would be perfect inspiration for a writing piece. And it will have the added benefit of making you feel better, because writing is often used as a way to express, and therefore move on from, experiences and emotions that upset us.”
Kid: (intrigued) “Wow, that’s a really good idea, actually. I like how you have all these smart ideas that I would never think of. I think I probably WOULD feel better if I wrote out all these feelings.”
Me: “Aw, fabulous! So how ’bout we start brainstorming some ideas?”
Kid: “Ok, cool! I’m going to do a web.”
(I search in my bag for a pencil as kid draws a web. When I look over, I see he has written ‘invisibility’ and ‘removing my head.’)
Me: “Wait. What do these things have to do with the election?”
Kid: “Oh, nothing. I’m writing about my superpower.”
Me: “But…wait…I thought you just said writing down your feelings about the election was a great, smart idea!”
Kid: “Well, yeah. It was. But I’d rather write a story about ripping my head off my neck and carrying it around in my hands. How cool would THAT be?!”
Sitting at a Starbucks communal table reviewing some math work. A random guy is sitting next to me and eyeing my papers.
Guy: “Looks like some tough math. I don’t know how to do any of that stuff!”
Me: “I know, right? 8th grade math is no joke!”
Guy: “You’re in 8th grade? Really? I assumed high school, like maybe a senior!”
Me: (Confused stare. Not sure if he’s serious. Realzing he is.)
Guy: “Jeez. Should you be sitting here doing homework all alone? Where are your parents?”
Me: “I tutor an 8th grader. That’s what the papers are for.”
Guy: “Oh.”
Me: “I am 34 years old.”
Guy: “Ah.”
<silence>
Guy: “Well this is embarrassing.”
On so many levels.
While assessing a Kindergartener’s math skills, I pull out some images of analog and digital clocks.
Kid: “Oh my gosh don’t even ask me this, I am an EXPERT on clocks. I know everything. I know the most about clocks.”
Me: “Ok, great! But let’s just double check.” <show a digital clock that says 7:30>
Kid: “Seventy-three o’clock.” (leans back, crosses arms, nods smugly) “I told you I’m the best at clocks.”
So…no, Trump Jr. You are very very bad at clocks.
(Part of the Ebola Mom series)
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