Today it happened. I got my first, dreaded call from a teacher at school about Raelyn’s behavior.
I feel like such an adult now.
At about 10 AM my work phone rang and I was greeted to the voice of “Ms. Stacy” one of the Pre-K teachers.
“I have Raelyn here and I need you to talk to her about some of her behavior. As you know, Raelyn can sometimes be a follower and she chose to spit on some paper in the art center rather than clean it up, move it out of the way or ask for assistance.”
This is not funny. I put on my serious hat and said that I would speak to Raelyn.
Raelyn: (Probably holding the receiver away from her mouth, reluctantly) *Snivel* *Sob* *Blubber* *Some other onomatopoeia*
Ms. Stacy: (In the background) Say “hello” so he knows you have the phone.
Raelyn: Yes (meekly)
Me: Ms. Stacy tells me you were spitting, is this true?
Raelyn: Yes (even more meekly than before)
Raelyn: I don’t know.
Me: We’re not supposed to spit. Ever. For any reason. You know that.
Raelyn: Yes (crawling into a hole in her own mind)
Me: I want you to behave for your teachers the rest of the day and act like a big girl.
Raelyn: (Warming up) Ok, daddy.
Me: Thank you, Raelyn. Listen to your teachers, especially Ms. Stacy.
Raelyn: (Practically happy now) Ok, daddy.
Ms. Stacy: (Chuckling a little) Thanks for your help.
Me: No worries.
I was going to try and write something funny, but I think the exchange is more heartwrenching/heartwarming than anything else.
Even from daycare, over the phone, she managed to get me to soften my message slightly and feel badly about her crying. I still think I delivered my message, though, and wasn’t too wishy-washy.
Here’s hoping I don’t get another call. Ever.