I took my three oldest daughters to work today. My wife had been up all night with the baby, who is sick. So I was trying to give them a break. With the rest of us out of the way for most of the day, Katie and the baby could (in theory) take naps, visit the pediatrician, or do whatever they needed to without any logistical complications.
But I failed to consider fully the implications of bringing three kids ages six through nine into a college classroom environment.
The three of them sat in the back row, playing with Barbie dolls, reading books, and doing all manner of acrobatics and spinning with the cushioned office chairs that grace the room.
Once during their play, when they got loud enough to distract the students, I reminded them, rather firmly, to keep quiet. C., age 6, didn't care for that. She ran up to me and said, "You have to be a good boy, daddy!" And then she added, "You have a manly voice!" After returning to the rear of the classroom, she repeated, loud enough for the entire class to hear, "You have a manly voice, daddy."
The six-year-old kept running up to the front of the classroom during my lecture to ask questions or provide commentary. She also served as the messenger not only for herself, but also for her big sisters. The messages she delivered were usually in the form of notes scrawled on paper. (Remember how the last time she came with me to work, I asked her to write all of her questions down so she wouldn't disrupt the class? That's what she was doing -- all except for the not disrupting class part.) Here's some of what she wrote: "L. [the eight-year-old] is nuts. Be a good boy." Another note said, "You era LAWD" (You are loud). Apparently, the written observation was insufficient, because she also verbalized the fact that I talk too loud.
Two of the notes that the six-year-old delivered were from the eight-year-old, who objected to one facet of my, uh, teaching style. Sometimes when I ask a question and a student nails the answer perfectly, I shout "Aha!" and award the student a verbal gold star. (I do this to try to liven things up. It is intended to awaken the sleeping people, startle the drowsy ones, grab the attention of those who are focused on their phones, and change the pacing of the lecture.) The first time I did that, L. wrote, "I'm starting to get afraid of you." And the second time it happened, L. wrote, "You are to [sic] loud you made me shake when you yelled!" After that, I discontinued the practice of shouting "Aha!"
At one point during class, I played U2's "Pride (In the Name of Love)" for the class and told the students I had two questions for them: a) Who is the song about? and b) What is the historical inaccuracy in it? Before playing it, I asked students to put away their electronic devices so that they could not use the internet to find the answers. When the song ended, C. ran to the front of the classroom and handed me another message. It said, "I Dot have Lekrnroniks Not evin one" (I do not have electronics, not even one). Okay, C., you are excluded from my request that everyone shut down their electronics devices.
Other questions C. wrote down include: "Hoos Malkin X" (Who's Malcolm X?), and "Wus [what's] the KKK".
She also wrote me, "You can rit on the BRD" (You can write on the board). Gee, I'm so glad I have the permission of a six-year-old to write on the classroom's dry erase board!
In the meantime, one of her older sisters wrote a message and sent it up to the front with her. It read, "C. should have sat in the front." A short time later, the other big sister sent up a similar note, "C. should of sat in the Front." The question I have is, which daughter wrote "of" when she should have written "have," 'cause I gotta talk to her about that.
Tomorrow, even if baby A. still has a fever of 102 F, I'm leaving the troublesome trio at home!
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