I was with a group of ladies recently and kind of got my dander up. (That happens a lot in case you haven’t noticed!) They were discussing their daughters (they all have girls and only girls- one has one, one has two and the third lady has three. Their daughters are all grown ups now in their 30’s and 40’s.)
I was busy doing something else as they discussed their girls, but I eventually joined the conversation. One of the moms, a music teacher in a local elementary school, said that boys should not be allowed to go to school until third or fourth grade. She went on to say that girls came in and sat down, ready to learn and that the boys slid in as if coming into home plate, full of energy and noise. She acted as if the boys were a total waste of her time.
I had a lot I wanted to say, but in trying to fit into a social situation, I did not. But now at my computer, I will have my say!
I always thought all I wanted was a little girl. Having had a really bad experience with a brother who was trouble and abusive, I was convinced a girl would be easier and much more fun. Cooking together, shopping for cute clothes, doing each other’s nails. What could I do with a boy?? When I finally found out I was pregnant, I could tell my husband really wanted a boy. My father in law had two granddaughters and he came right out and told me I needed to have a boy.
I actually felt like I was going to have a boy throughout the nine months, although the signs pointed to a girl. Back then the ultrasounds were not conclusive and I had no other tests done. The doctor said the heartbeat suggested a girl, but I held fast to my “feeling” that it was a boy. Maybe my father in law had me trying to will it to be a boy to please him, but somewhere deep inside I really still wanted a girl!
After 36 hours of labor, I gave birth to a big, healthy, baby boy. Before the pain medicine could wear off I was talking about having 4 more and having my own basketball team. God had other plans and my one boy was all I would have.
I have since been lucky to work with lots of kids of varying ages, and to hang around a lot of my son Jon’s friends.
And I can say this.
I decided the moment he was born that I had no intention of raising just a man- I was going to raise a hu-man. I had no intention of letting him fall into those male stereo types. I also was not going to let him become the slacker my brother became.
Two of my favorite stories of Jon are from when he was in elementary school (the age my teacher friend had said she would ban boys from school!) I did not really let him go off to school without me. He had done the half day, preschool thing without me for a few years, but when elementary school started I feared for my sanity, all alone in my house while he was at school and my husband was at work. I could see myself sitting all day, eating bonbons and watching TV, so I went to work in the media center of Jon’s school.
One day I got to school in the middle of the morning and there in a big mud puddle near the playground was a small person covered in mud, laying on the ground in a heap. As I approached this small being, I realized it was my own child. After a few questions, I got the story that one of the other little boys had beaten him up during playground time and left him there. For some reason the teacher had not seen it and right now was not missing him.
I took him in the school, cleaned him up a bit and then took him back to his class before heading to the principal’s office. I was not happy. But the point of the story is not what the teacher did or didn’t do, what the principal said or didn’t say. The point of the story was the fact that my child has been bigger and stronger than the other kids since day one. He is now 6’4″ and when he played college football was 305 pounds of solid muscle. The kid who had “beaten him up” was one of the smallest, wimpiest kids in his grade.
When I asked Jon how in the world that little shrimpy kid had gotten the better of him, Jon explained to me that this kid needed to feel strong even though he wasn’t. So he let him. Jon also told me that he knew he was bigger and that that was the very reason he hadn’t fought back- he didn’t want to take a chance on hurting the smaller kid. After all, he told me, this guy was his friend. So Jon let the kid hit him- repeatedly. I guess my plan for him to be a hu-man was working.
A few years later, Jon didn’t get his homework done one day. Now all of the teachers told me that Jon was quiet and respectful, but he did NOT like doing homework. So when the teacher asked him for his homework, Jon explained that he had not done it because his little sister Andrietta was ill.
Now this teacher and I were pretty good friends. At that point I had worked in the school for 4 years and most of the teachers knew me pretty well. She was shocked to hear I had another child that she didn’t know about, but accepted Jon’s excuse.
Later that day when she was in the media center she came to me, amazed. “How in the world can you give the school so much time when you have a two year old at home?” I choked and said “WHAT?” She told me about Jon’s lack of homework and his excuse. I assured her that Jon was an only child, but to let me handle it from there.
After school, I went by his classroom and picked him up. As we walked down the hall, Jon began to skip ahead and asked if we could stop for a snack on the way home. I calmly said, “No, we need to go straight to pick up Andrietta, since she hasn’t been feeling well.”
Jon stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around to face me, a look of shock on his face. “Where in the world did you get the name Andrietta?” I asked. He explained that his best friend that had moved away the year before had been Andrew and my name ended in “ietta” so he put the two together. He proudly said, “It just came to me!”
Needless to say we did NOT get a snack on the way home!
Later in life, as Jon went on to middle school, I continued to work at his elementary school until I was asked to teach 3 year old kindergarten at my church’s day school. Lots of the kids in Jon’s classes, especially the girls, began to think they were too cool and didn’t want to acknowledge me or even their own parents. Jon was never like that. I can remember one day in particular when the kids were headed out on an overnight field trip. The moms stood in a circle near the bus full of kids, saying how their child barely spoke to them anymore. They lamented that the kids would probably not even wave good bye as they drove away, since they were already busy gossiping with their friends on the bus.
It was about then that I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see that my son was back off of the bus and ready to give me a hug and tell me good bye. A hush fell over the circle of moms as he waved one last time and got on the bus, back to his friends and away for a fun trip with them.
I turned back to the circle and could feel the looks I was getting. At that point I excused myself and headed to my car as the bus pulled away.
In later years, as high school came around, I heard mothers of girls talk about how they learned all of their gossip by listening to their daughters talk in the back of the car during carpool. From what I was hearing, the girls were either gossiping or fighting cattily with each other most of the time.
I, on the other hand, had a car full of football players that I picked up after practice. What I learned from listening to them was that if the coach picked on you, it was a good sign. It meant he saw potential and was trying to get the best out of you. Over and over I heard how tired they were before the shouts of “TIRED, I LOVE TIRED!” Mostly I heard a lot of silence as they really were worn out. My car definitely didn’t smell as good as the car full of girls, but the team spirit and camaraderie I heard made rolling down the windows on the way home a very small price to pay!
Now I know all girls aren’t one way and all boys another. In chaperoning nearly twenty church choir and show choir trips, I saw some great guys and some useless boys. Once, as I dragged a huge piece of equipment across a stage for a show choir performance, I heard a girl tell her boyfriend, (both were show choir members) that he should help me. He looked over at me and said, “Naw, I am not helping her.” And he didn’t. They both shrugged and walked right past me as I continued to struggle. I can only hope that that girl saw her future pass before her eyes and that she dumped him!
But I loved having a boy child and now a grown man son who has made me proud most every day. He just turned 29 and is a success at work, a great friend and help to many, owns his own home and is learning to cook. He is not the neatest person in the world, (takes after his father there!) but with a new home of his own he is trying to learn to do better.
So when the comment was made about how awful boys are, I was ready to pounce! But instead I thought of all of the troubles and tribulations I have heard these very women tell me about their daughters. The gossiping, the bitchiness, the too short dresses, the late nights out, and on and on. I thought about how I had always wanted a daughter, until I had to chaperone my first group of girls. I remembered how I came home from that first trip and told my husband how happy I was that we had a boy. After that I never wanted for a girl again!
I know kids can all be great and they can all be a pain. I know they are all different and can make you want to scream and hug them all at the same time. I know some go one direction and some go another. I know if you love them and accept them, most of them will turn out ok. I know boys can be rambunctious, but lots of fun. I know girls can sit quietly in music class and scratch each others eyes out in the bathroom. I know any of them can be a leader and any of them can be a hero. I know they can all be tough and they can all be gentle. I also know they all grow up.
So I just let the ladies talk about boys. And I smiled to myself. Because I know the truth.
