MY OUTSIDE VOICE
Picture if you will, a school, with play structures in the front instead of the back. Monkey bars and ladders along the very sidewalk parents use to take their darling children from school, to their vehicles, at day’s end.
Now, visualize the delicate dance all those parents do in the minutes that follow the school bell as the students march from the front door to their waiting vehicles.
If you have the image in your head, then you’re picturing the front of my daughter’s school, and the dilemma all us parents face at the end of the school day.
Some parents have mastered the exit. A quick left, then right, lots of animated dialogue, and boom— the kids haven’t looked at the play yard. They’re safely buckled in and en route home.
Other parents forget the deflect technique, instantly regretting their march along the play route. Unable to stop and play, these parents quietly argue with their kids about the many reasons why they can’t stay and watch them hang upside down. Dance class, homework, karate, music lessons. I’ve heard them all. Kids cry, moms cry. It happens every day.
Some parents simply cave to determined young ones who bolt onto the equipment before mom or dad have a chance to comment.
On a beautiful afternoon, there are always a few folks that are happy to take the extra few minutes to watch their kids run around. They play in a frenzy, excited about the bonus time with their pals. If we have the time, it really is sweet to watch.
But eventually, everyone needs to leave. And so it begins. The suckered remaining parents line up along the fence trying to figure out an exit strategy. This group of adults launches into the nightly ritual of trying to pry their children from the fun to get home to whatever awaits. After all, our school wraps up before 3pm. Some of these parents need to get back to work.
I’ve joined my equally helpless friends on many occasions. After catching up on life and exchanging school information, we all do our best to extract our babes from the fun. The problem is that not one parent is prepared to use their “get your butt over here” voice in front of all the other well-meaning parents. No one wants to be the harsh mom or dad that dragged their kid out of there, circa 1978.
Instead, we desperate parents say things like “come on sweetie”, “let’s go honey”, “time to leave boo bear”, “five more minutes”, “four more minutes”. You get the picture. The desperation in our tones is music to the young ones as they play. “Just one more trick, mom”, “In a minute, dad”. Or, I swear I see them stare into each other’s eyes as if to say “let’s ALL pretend we can’t hear them”.
Just once, I’d like ONE parent to shout out “well then, I’m leaving”, then get into their car, and drive away. We could plan it as a group. I would volunteer to drive the devastated child home, consoling him or her all the way. “Maybe all the kids should just listen to their moms and dads from now on,” I would say. This one brave act would send a message to all the others. That we parents mean business.
Too harsh, right? Kinda mean? I figured. Plus, I’ve floated the concept and no one was biting. They all liked the idea, but I could only get backup drivers. Not one mom was willing to do the deed. Lightweights.
I’ve finally given up. I just have to ride this out ‘til first snowfall and hope that, like last year, my kid finds it too hard to swing on a frozen bar. I can hope.
Are you too afraid to use your real mom/dad voice in public? Tell me about it. Find me on Facebook, My Inside Voice PM.