Meet the teachers barbecue night

I’ve just returned home from the annual meet-the-teachers-school-barbecue. My wife was working tonight, so I had the pleasure of bringing the kids on my own.

This is my sixth year attending the barbecue, so I knew to show up early to avoid the long line-ups that form 10 minutes after the event starts for food that couldn’t possibly meet the school standards for healthy choices (hamburgers, hotdogs, chips and pop).

The second I stepped into line, the kids abandoned me in favour of their friends and I knew I was going to have trouble carrying and garnishing three versions of the combo meal.

The kids came running when they saw I had food for them and we sat on a step, next to the hill to eat our meals. Ketchup was spilled everywhere and the kids argued over who had which can of pop and which bag of chips, but quickly ran off to find their friends again, leaving me sitting with a giant mess of plates, cans and bees.

It didn’t take long for my son to come running back in desperate need of my help. He explained to me that he had lost a small toy on the hill and needed my help to find it. He said he threw it down the hill then rolled down to where he thought the toy would be. When he stopped rolling, he couldn’t find it.

If only there had been some way to avoid this problem...

He wasn’t sure exactly where he had thrown it and I suspect the rolling didn’t help. I asked him to recreate the scene by having him stand where he had been and throw the imaginary toy as my daughter and I watched.

While we looked in the general area we thought it would have landed, my daughter instructed him to roll down the hill, as perhaps this would reveal clues to the missing toy. He gladly obliged and my daughter said, “Keep rolling, keep rolling, keep rolling,” until he was well past the bottom of the hill and I wondered what purpose that had served.

“How big is the toy we're looking for?” I asked.

“About the size of a smurf,” my daughter answered. Thankfully, she held her fingers about two inches apart or I would have followed the generally accepted guideline and looked for something “three apples high.”

The toy was gone and it was time to go inside to meet the teachers.

Both kids enjoyed showing me their desks, the work they contributed to the walls and the system each teacher has to tell them when their behaviour is about to get them in big trouble. My son’s class uses red, yellow and green lights and my daughter’s teacher writes the word “Awesome” on the board and erases one letter each time their behaviour warrants it, until all letters are gone and they get a detention.

Awesome indeed.

My wife is much better at teacher conversations, always coming prepared with 42 or more questions, while I struggle to think of a single thing to say.

The truth is, I hope there isn’t a lot to talk about, two weeks into the year and feel like I just need to show the teacher that I care enough to come and make a big deal about the things that are important to my kids.

If nothing else, I surely did that.