The Problem of Parenting

I love my daughter. I think the world of her and always want to be a model to her. But there are days, like today, where I really hate being a parent.

I accompanied her into her classroom and she walked over to her table. Her chair had been moved from where it was usually placed. She asked me why and I responded by letting her know that it was probably moved to allow all the kids to put their rest mats into the space behind her chair. She seems satisfied with that answer and began to do her morning work. I walked over to the cubby holes to put her back pack and jacket away. When I returned to her table, I saw that her table mate was pushing her chair, with her trying to sit in it, away. Of course, my daughter began to cry. This was a very obvious sign of bullying and of her table mate being shitty jerk. I went over to her and told her that we could move her chair so that there was space between her and her class fellow. She cried into my shoulder.

I told her that it was not a nice thing that had happened and she had every right to cry. But that she was a strong and smart girl and she had every right to be at the table. That she needed to continue to do her work even if her table mate was not nice to her.

As I heard these words, “lessons”, come out of my mouth, I felt fake. And I was enraged. I wanted to tell her to punch him. And if she didn’t do it, I would. I wanted to give that boy a verbal lashing that would remind him for years to come that he was a selfish and inconsiderate moron. Why was I teaching her to be docile and submissive when I didn’t feel like it made a single difference in the world? When I have learned that being ‘nice’ is code word for ‘we can treat you like crap because you won’t say anything’?

Of course I was projecting my anger onto this situation but why shouldn’t I? Here was a perfect example of someone making my daughter feel small and weak. Hadn’t this been the way things happened over the centuries. Treat those that are kind and nice in a bad way. My daughter has a big heart. I love her for that. She always shares with others. She often points out when others need help from teachers or adults. She is kind and attentive to others. But shouldn’t she be a little selfish and attend to herself first? What exactly was I trying to teach her by taking the high road? How had that worked for anyone in the history of this country, in the last few months of this world? NOTHING!

As I walked out of the classroom, I notified the teacher and the assistant of what had happened. They noticed that my daughter was crying but didn’t know the reason. So I informed them. You know what? If I can’t punch this kid in the face, I’ll report him to the authorities. Isn’t that how whistleblowing happens? After all, isn’t there an advertisement in the subways that says “if you see something, say something”? I felt slightly vindicated by my actions.

I seethed as I walked to the subway. I really wanted to punch someone. Hopefully, my desire to inflict physical pain on someone will subside. But the lesson I learned from today’s incident is that I will have to speak up more to the ridiculously cruel and inconsiderate behavior that has been so prevalent in recent years. Only if we point out cruelty will there be a hope of it stopping. So what if I become a tattle tale? Aren’t there really powerful people out there who have been whistleblowers? I’ll consider myself one of them.