Advice for the 2nd Grade Substitute

Max: What does regret mean?

Me: It means that you're sorry you did something. (My curiousity is peaked at this point)

Max: Well, there is something I should tell you. My whole class had to write a letter to our substitute from Monday. Apparently, we talked a lot. And we didn't really listen to her. Though, I don't think it was me.

Me: Max, you talk when you don't have a substitute so I have no doubt you did your share.

Max: OK, I did.

Me: So what did your letter say?

Max: That I was sorry for all that stuff that I did. But you know what else I said in my letter?

Me: What else did you say? (Again, curiousity peaked)

Max: I told the sub the things she did wrong while she was in our class. If we had to talk about what we did wrong, she needed to know what she did too. And I told her. Like how she did the spelling words completely wrong. And other stuff.

Me: I'm not sure what to say about that, Max.

Max: Oh well, she just needed to know for the next time she substitutes.

Me: I bet she's very appreciative of your advice.

Max: Yeah, she probably is. I like to be helpful.

Where Were You That Day, Mom?

A few weeks ago, Max brought home his library book as he does every week. It was a children’s book about the Oklahoma City bombing.

“I know this was a bad thing that happened in Oklahoma City. And it is where Ms. Kari works and I just wanted to know more.”

We talked a little about what happened that day, where I was, where his dad was and how violence doesn’t solve anything.

Any of us who were in Oklahoma City 15 years ago today, or even those who weren’t, remember exactly what we were doing and how we felt. It seems like it all happened yesterday and it also seems like forever ago. Our city and so many lives were changed. Oklahomans showed strength, courage and resilience while the nation lifted us up as we began the healing process.

What now stands on the site of the Murrah Federal Building is a tribute to “those who were killed, those who survived and those changed forever.“ The Memorial & Museum help educate visitors about the impact of violence, inspire hope and healing and sharing and lessons learned by those affected. Max says he thinks he would like to visit there soon to learn more than what he read in his library book.

As he woke up this morning we talked about the day and I reminded him that it was 15 years ago today that the bombing happened. As I was packing lunch and his backpack he said “I set our DVR for the live coverage, Mom, because I want to watch it when I get home.”

We drove to school down Grand Boulevard and saw the banners hanging from the light poles, each with a name of someone who died 15 years ago today. A reminder to those of us who are running the Memorial Marathon on Sunday why we’re there.

“Mom, I know how when you run, you run your miles for different people, like me. But I think you should run some miles for the 168 people who died, too.”

You can count on it, Max.

Listening to the Savage Drummer

This is how my day started last Thursday morning at approximately 7:20 a.m.:

Max: I have a music program today at 2 p.m.

Me: No, I don’t think so. It is just practice.

Max: Mom, my program is today. I am a Savage Drummer. My shirt has feathers.

Me: I really don’t think it is today, but let me check.

So began my search of the school newsletter, website, then a text to my friend Margaret saying “ I think Max is confused…is there a program today?”

Return text from Margaret: Max is right, the program is at 2 p.m. today.

Me: AHHHHH!!!

While I knew there was a program coming up because I had sent the required costume elements, I had absolutely no idea it was Thursday. How did I miss it? I am diligent about reviewing the school newsletter, website, etc. but for some reason this one just slipped right on by. That happens, right?

Luckily my afternoon was open and I could attend the 1st & 2nd grade “Shipwreck” musical to see Max as a Savage Drummer. Mommy guilt diverted. Barely.

This made me think about listening…truly listening when your kid tells you something. I'm learning they're usually right on. But I assumed because I didn’t know about it, it meant it wasn’t happening. Not true. Max knew his program was at 2 p.m. and told me more than once. Apparently, he listened much better than I did.

“Max, you’re right. You do have a music program today. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” I said.

“That’s OK, Mom. I understand. Even Moms forget to listen sometimes, but not very often, right?”

I can only hope.


(Photo: That's Duncan, Max's buddy & fellow Savage Drummer)