Back in the Fall, I signed up to be a parent volunteer in my daughter’s JK class.  Then I found out I had to have a police check done.  I explained to the school that I was a physician and had one done via my representative College of Physicians but no, this wasn’t good enough.  So, I filled out the form and waited for official approval.

This was in October.  Week after week went by and week after week, I had to tell my daughter’s teacher that I still couldn’t volunteer until I was cleared.  She understood, obviously, and would always shake her head in that knowing way of “I know it’s B-S bureaucracy.”

I had all but forgotten about the police check when it arrived in the mail last week.  Yay!  I was finally cleared.  <insertsarcasticeyerollhere>

Earlier this week, I entered my daughter’s classroom as a parent volunteer.  Daughter was excited to have me there, wanted me to sit with her on the carpet, kept looking at me and waving.  It was very cute.

It was also an eye-opening experience.  An inside look at the behaviours of 4-5 year old children.  That classroom had some lovely children but wow, did it ever have some challenging ones too.  Maybe my kid was on her best behavior, but she was polite, did what she was told and listened.  Listened!!  She didn’t have to be told three times to put the book away (this is what happens at home).  I was a very proud mama.

The physician in me was partly focused on the “troubled” kids.  The kids that didn’t do as they were told.  The one child who took a 1/2 hour to put his shoes on, wouldn’t sit still during reading time, kept stepping out of line to bother other kids.   The other child who was left in the gym with the teachers because she refused to follow her classmates back to class.  The same child that grumbled a few unintelligible words at me and vehemently spat at me when I told her it was time to put the gym equipment away. She spat at me!  A few times, in fact.  I was dumbfounded. I walked away after that, only to find her following me.  I was really at a loss at what to do.

As terrible as this sounds, I am so grateful to not be that parent who has to deal with that kid.  I can’t imagine how frustrating it must be, embarrassing too, I would imagine.  Behavioral issues are extremely difficult to deal with.  I applaud my daughter’s teacher for her poise in handling these difficult situations.  And I want to give those parents a hug, and offer them a glass (or bottle) of wine.