Father's Day 2009
Here's an example from our childhood that shows how awesome it could be to know that Dad had our backs. In actuality, it's the brother's story, but it's too good not to tell.
In his early childhood it wasn't clear whether the brother was right- or left-handed. He did most of the fine-motor things, like drawing and writing, with his right, but ate with his left. When he started kindergarten, his teacher noticed this and called Dad in for a meeting.
"I'm sorry to tell you this, but your son will never learn to read," she told Dad. He responded by taking a book from the nearest shelf, opening it at random, and asking the brother to start reading out loud-because of course the bro already knew how to read, and in fact had been reading for a couple of years. The teacher was struck speechless. As they left, Dad couldn't resist a soft poke: "You'll pardon me if I don't seem too concerned."
I've got another one. Fast forward to high school. Our school, like all Utah high schools, required the seniors to take a class called "Responsible Parenting." (Given the number of my classmates who already had the opportunity to apply the lessons in a practical setting, we would have been far better served taking a class called "Responsible Intercourse" our junior year, but naturally the Utah school system would have none of that.) The brother, correctly identifying the class as a steaming crock of nonsense, signed up for something worthwhile instead-AP Music, I believe. Again, Dad was summoned to school, and this time was informed that if he didn't take Responsible Parenting, the brother would not receive his diploma the following May.
Dad exploded. "You graduate students who can't read, and you won't let my son graduate because he didn't take egg-carrying?!"
After much reflection, our principal decided to allow the brother to graduate sans egg-carrying.
In his early childhood it wasn't clear whether the brother was right- or left-handed. He did most of the fine-motor things, like drawing and writing, with his right, but ate with his left. When he started kindergarten, his teacher noticed this and called Dad in for a meeting.
"I'm sorry to tell you this, but your son will never learn to read," she told Dad. He responded by taking a book from the nearest shelf, opening it at random, and asking the brother to start reading out loud-because of course the bro already knew how to read, and in fact had been reading for a couple of years. The teacher was struck speechless. As they left, Dad couldn't resist a soft poke: "You'll pardon me if I don't seem too concerned."
I've got another one. Fast forward to high school. Our school, like all Utah high schools, required the seniors to take a class called "Responsible Parenting." (Given the number of my classmates who already had the opportunity to apply the lessons in a practical setting, we would have been far better served taking a class called "Responsible Intercourse" our junior year, but naturally the Utah school system would have none of that.) The brother, correctly identifying the class as a steaming crock of nonsense, signed up for something worthwhile instead-AP Music, I believe. Again, Dad was summoned to school, and this time was informed that if he didn't take Responsible Parenting, the brother would not receive his diploma the following May.
Dad exploded. "You graduate students who can't read, and you won't let my son graduate because he didn't take egg-carrying?!"
After much reflection, our principal decided to allow the brother to graduate sans egg-carrying.