Sunday, May 22, 2005
Mischief in the making
A couple of years ago, the 8th grade graduation ceremony at ROBS was disrupted by three rambunctious kids. As the first of the three crossed the stage to receive his "diploma," he pretended to bump into the podium and fell to the ground. The audience reaction to his hijinx rendered the names of the next three graduates inaudible, much to the distress of their families. The next delinquent pulled a subway sandwich from under his robe as he walked across the stage, evidently dropping tomatoes and lettuce on the shoes of some administration members. And two of the three miscreants had cut the sleeves off their shirts so that when they removed their robes, they were unsuitably attired for graduation. In the disciplinary world of ROBS, the punishment they received was severe: on their final transcripts, each received an "Unsatisfactory" in Citizenship.
(It's a testament to the school, I think, that this incident is even noteworthy. I'm reminded of the story I heard about the parents who were called into the principal's office because their child had uttered a four-letter word. One of them expressed surprised at being summoned for such an offense and wondered aloud what the school would do if a child brought a weapon to school. The principal's reply was simple: "We never get there." I suppose that's what happens when you draw the line at infractions like expletives or gum-chewing. And you see the results throughout the campus: the student bathrooms are clean, I've never seen a word of graffiti, and every person I've encountered--adult and child--is unfailingly polite. But I digress.)
As a result, every 8th grader now must sign a contract forswearing any pranks during the graduation ceremony. Among at least some at the school, the requirement is called the Riggs Rule, in honor of the twins who participated in the brouhaha. I learned this ROBS history lesson from the mother of one of Max's classmates. Her older child is an 8th grader, so she and her husband have been immersed recently in graduation protocol.
Friday morning after carpool, Kamala stopped me to tell me that while she and her were discussing graduation, he said, "In ten years, Max Hightower is going to be the guy who pulls some stunt at graduation." I couldn't help but laugh because frankly, I'd predict the same thing. Kamala and I went on to imagine that Max will try to enlist the rest of the class to join him under the theory that there's safety in numbers. I can just hear him now: "If we all do it, there's no way they can bust us!"
Even when it's his potential for mischief, I find great comfort in knowing that other people see Max as I do. I feel less alone and reassured that I'm not just delusional about what a handful he can be. I'm also concerned, though, that a parent with little exposure to Max can already envision his antics as an adolescent--is he really that transparent? (Of course, he is.) Perhaps that father is simply extrapolating from Max's memorable performance during the Grandparents Day recital, which is a story I must tell you another day.
(It's a testament to the school, I think, that this incident is even noteworthy. I'm reminded of the story I heard about the parents who were called into the principal's office because their child had uttered a four-letter word. One of them expressed surprised at being summoned for such an offense and wondered aloud what the school would do if a child brought a weapon to school. The principal's reply was simple: "We never get there." I suppose that's what happens when you draw the line at infractions like expletives or gum-chewing. And you see the results throughout the campus: the student bathrooms are clean, I've never seen a word of graffiti, and every person I've encountered--adult and child--is unfailingly polite. But I digress.)
As a result, every 8th grader now must sign a contract forswearing any pranks during the graduation ceremony. Among at least some at the school, the requirement is called the Riggs Rule, in honor of the twins who participated in the brouhaha. I learned this ROBS history lesson from the mother of one of Max's classmates. Her older child is an 8th grader, so she and her husband have been immersed recently in graduation protocol.
Friday morning after carpool, Kamala stopped me to tell me that while she and her were discussing graduation, he said, "In ten years, Max Hightower is going to be the guy who pulls some stunt at graduation." I couldn't help but laugh because frankly, I'd predict the same thing. Kamala and I went on to imagine that Max will try to enlist the rest of the class to join him under the theory that there's safety in numbers. I can just hear him now: "If we all do it, there's no way they can bust us!"
Even when it's his potential for mischief, I find great comfort in knowing that other people see Max as I do. I feel less alone and reassured that I'm not just delusional about what a handful he can be. I'm also concerned, though, that a parent with little exposure to Max can already envision his antics as an adolescent--is he really that transparent? (Of course, he is.) Perhaps that father is simply extrapolating from Max's memorable performance during the Grandparents Day recital, which is a story I must tell you another day.
2 Comments:
How exciting to think that the 8th graders' contract may one day be known as the Hightower Rule!
Sorry, I couldn't resist.
That will be an interesting counterpoint to the Hightower Building, one of the main buildings on campus named in honor of Max's grandmother.
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