BACK TO SCHOOL

One thing I have learned, overseeing children, is that it is important to "respect your elders." Especially the elder who is me.

Not that I did it very much when I myself was young, but now that I'm older it seems wise, and statements which seemed wise when I was eighteen, such as, "Don't trust anyone over thirty," seem unwise.

For the most part most youth have learned to (at least pretend to) respect me, now that I'm in the role of a gruff old farmer. On a farm, if you don't listen to the farmer, you tend to get butted by his goats or attacked by his rooster, and therefore, even if some youths were disobedient at first, they soon learned to listen, and perhaps even respect.

I can't explain why this happens. The very same same youth who refuse to learn from a teacher who has a Master's Degree in education will learn from a goat or rooster, though that goat or rooster has never been to college.

Most youth do learn, if given the chance. However some youths qualify as exceptions.

Some of the exceptions are law-makers up in Concord. Because many are two-thirds my age, or even half my age, they qualify as "youth," in my book. However they seem to be slightly power-crazed, and lately have started issuing decrees which seem downright disrespectful to me.

One new law proclaims that teachers can no longer tape or thumbtack crayon drawings, and samples of especially neat handwriting, and "A+" math papers, onto the walls of classrooms. Why? Because these whippersnapper lawmakers have decided that such papers represent a "fire hazard."

Curious, I inquired whether there ever has been a case where such papers caught on fire and resulted in a conflagration at a school. As far as I could learn, such a blaze had never, ever happened. However, because it might happen, the law was passed.

There ought to be a law against passing such laws, because other things might happen. A little child might have their feelings hurt, if their work isn't praised and displayed. Their artistic talent might be crushed. Society might be deprived of hundreds of great artworks, all because some whippersnapper law-maker in Concord was in the mood to bully first-grade classrooms.

Of course, the whippersnapper law-makers up in Concord have never made any effort to come to me and listen to a grumpy elder. Instead they issued a decree that I needed six hours of "additional education," in order to keep being "a-grouchy-old-farmer-who-shows-kids-a-thing-or-two-about-farming-after-school."

This made me more grouchy than ever. I never took kindly to being forced to sit in classrooms, even forty years ago, and that never included Saturdays. However whippersnappers in Concord were now forcing me to give up a Saturday. A Saturday in the spring! When the soil has thawed earlier than usual, and the pea and spinach seeds are just itching to be planted!

Last Friday a young girl was rejoicing that school was out for the weekend, and I muttered it was out for her, but I had to go to school on a Saturday. The girl became deeply concerned, and asked me why I was suffering such an awful fate. I said that law-makers up in Concord didn't feel I was smart enough, and that I needed to learn more. The sweet lass was indignant, and actually patted my back, telling me that of course I was smart enough. I was the best grouchy old farmer she'd ever met.

However, after going to the NHAEYC Spring Conference, and attending four ninety-minute- lectures, I have discovered that perhaps an old dog can learn new tricks.

For one thing, I have learned I'm not actually a grouchy old farmer. I'm actually something called a "Male Child Care Professional. "

I also learned that 97% of all Child Care Professionals are women. (I might have enjoyed school a lot more, forty years ago, if 97% of my classmates had been women.) I had a very interesting Saturday; much more interesting than I expected.

I didn't always get my first or second choices, when it came to fitting into crowded lecture halls. In one case I got my third choice, which was a lecture entitled, "Where are the men?" That hall was nearly empty. It held two male teachers, and four students; (two gals and a young guy and me.)

One of the teachers was a male Child Care Professional with a masters degree, and after thirty years his salary had only risen to $30,000/year. (This is one reason few men want to enter the field.)

The other teacher also had a master's degree, but soon after starting work at a child care center he had been "kicked upstairs," and became an administrator. This a second reason few men are in the field; for one reason or another they are kicked up, or out.

A third reason is that some parents fear men may be perverts, if men chose to care for children. Apparently some parents feel there is something "queer" about such men, especially because the press has made headlines of all sorts of priests, psychiatrists, boyscout troop-leaders, middle-school guidance-counselors, social workers, and teachers who have broken the trust with children. This has made things very hard for decent people, even though decent people vastly outnumber the perverted people. (Both Grace and I had to go through an intense background check, before we opened our center. I had to go through the check even though I'd already gone through a extensive check, to be a substitute teacher at the high school.)

After discussing males-in-childcare at great length, I learned once again I definitely am not a grouchy-farmer-who-shows-kids-a-few-things-about-farming-after-school. Rather I am something called a "male role model," and also something called a "rarity."

All I can say is that I had no idea that grouchy old farmers had become so rare. In my grandfather's youth over half of all American households were run by grouchy farmers, and their grouchy wives. Rather than a "rarity," I think I'm actually an "anachronism." (If not, then at least I'm trying very hard to be one.)

It turned out I was, as a man involved in child-care, something of a campus sensation. As a rarity I was noticed by 97% of my classmates, which I did not at all mind. However I had to chuckle, for there is nothing new about what I'm doing. To care for kids on a farm is not radical. It likely is as old as Adam and Eve, (for, after they were thrown from the Garden of Eden, they likely were grouchy, and likely farmed.) (After all, what else would they know how to do, if they had lived their whole lives in a garden?)

Because I was already in a mood to chuckle, I felt especially privileged to meet Jeff Johnson, who is a Male Child Care Provider, and therefore is a "rarity" like me. However he is also, in my opinion, an excellent humorist and writer.

For some time, before I attended the various lectures last Saturday, I was trying to find Jeff's childcare website (at http://explorationsearlylearning.com/index.htm ) but didn't have a link, and therefore, after googling here and googling there, the first thing I found was a short story he wrote called "The Dinosaur In The Basement," ( http://www.explorationsearlylearning.com/articles/The%20Dinosaur%20in%20the%20Basement.pdf )

I'm glad I first met him as a writer and humorist, because he seemed on my level. If I had known he was actually something called a Male Child Care Professional, I would have been utterly in awe, and too shy to email him, and wouldn't have received his encouraging response.

However now my schooling is complete, and I confess I'm glad I've met my obligations to whippersnappers up in Concord, and can go back to being a grouchy, old farmer. I can only take being a Male Child Care Professional for so long. For one thing, I have peas and spinach to plant, and Male Child Care Professionals, as far as I know, don't descend to the dirt. Only to the diapers.

Caleb