Baby Watch

Tuesday

I had already figured it would be best for me if my new daughter was born either Thursday or Friday so paternity leave would combine with Winter Break, but just as I started to walk down the halls to pick up the kids, I changed my plans; I wanted to get that phone call today. It no longer mattered how many days I would get off, I just needed out now. But then, when I saw them line up so nicely in the cafeteria, I realized my kids were trying. When they started on their morning work, I noticed Gabe sitting up straight and silently raising his hand for a pencil. Usually, Gabe spent the morning swimming on the floor, and then I’d bend down to pick him up, ask him why he was on the floor, and he’d smile and say, “I don’t have a pencil.” I did meet with Gabe’s mom on Monday and told her that I was afraid he had ADHD, but I used teacher-speak, “Gabe has extreme difficulty focusing on his work for more than a few minutes. I’m afraid that his lack of focus is poorly affecting his progress, and I’m not sure if he’ll be prepared for the 3rd grade.” It would have been clearer to say, “Your son is driving me nuts, please medicate him.” She was defensive like she had heard it all before and she told me how smart he was, and how he was reading chapter books at home. He struggled with Dr. Seuss; there was no way he was reading at home. I guess mom told him to straighten up, and it looked like he was at least trying. Unfortunately, the peaceful morning came to a regrettable finish. Ryden was out of control again in the afternoon. He was swinging his jacket in Amelia’s face because he thought she had taken one of his cut outs, but it was really lying there just behind his seat. After I repeatedly asked him to hand me the jacket, and I stared into his eyes with big teacher scissors in hand, “Do you want me to cut your jacket!?” Luckily, he gave it to me.

That night my wife was starting to have contractions, and I was getting hopeful that Wednesday might be my last day.

Wednesday

The contractions amounted to nothing. That afternoon, Asia’s mom came in early to pick up her daughter. I always got really nervous when parents came in to pick up their kids and saw the chaos first hand. My first year, Camryn’s dad always came in early to pick his daughter up, and he just stared in the front window with a clear frown on his face. There would usually be at least one fight happening at the time; he must have been thinking about his daughter and wondering how she could be learning in a class like this mine. When Asia’s mom came in, there were no fights to be seen, but still, barely anyone moved from their seats when I told them it was time to line up. Asia’s mom yelled, “You all need to listen to your teacher!!” Excuse me, Ms. Simpson, but you should know these students don’t need to listen to their teacher because he is satisfied as long as they aren’t trying to punch each other.

Thursday

Thursday arrived and still no contractions. I came to pick up my kids at the cafeteria, and they were particularly chatty. I noticed that the principal, Franklin, had visitors with him, and he was showing them around the school. The school was under a microscope because it was a turn-around school, and it was common for visitors in suits to stop by and see if we were actually turning anything around. Previously, Daley had a justified reputation as a school filled with poorly performing and violent students surrounded by defeated adults. As I was trying to walk my kids down the hall, they were chattering more than I could handle and because my patience was always paper thin, my voice went from a stern reprimand to a shrill yell, “Keep your eyes forward and stop talking!!” I looked up and saw Franklin and his visitors turn towards me with their eyebrows raised. Whoops.

Friday

Friday morning came. Throughout the week I carried my cell phone in my front pocket, and during every small break I would call my wife to see how she was doing. Sometimes if the kids were quietly doing their work, I’d sneak back and give her a call. Each day there were fewer and fewer contractions, but when I woke up to get ready for work that Friday, she was feeling them again. They weren’t consistent, but they were painful and that was enough for me to call Franklin. My wife had no illusions, she knew they were probably nothing, but my mind was made up. I had planned it out carefully: if she didn’t have the baby today, then she would definitely have her over the weekend, and if the baby still wasn’t here by Monday, then I would just show up at work and tell Franklin it was false labor. I even entertained the idea of completely lying about the birth to stay home for the rest of Winter Break. How would he ever find out? The idea made no sense to my wife. I had forgotten that I was taking days off to help her with the new baby, not so I could get a break from my class. She asked, “So if the baby isn’t even here yet, why would you waste paternity days staying home?” She didn’t understand that I would happily donate a kidney just to get the week off.

The second time around, lying and taking the day off had gotten easier. It just took a quick phone call, a lie, a few minutes of feeling bad because my kids would probably run the sub out the door by lunch, and then I relaxed. This day, I read an email from one of my good friends, Mark, who told me there was an opening at his school for a 5th grade teacher. Without caring about the details, I picked up the phone hoping to talk to him before he arrived at school. I was prepared to drive to his school that day to try and land the job. I was sure anything had to be better than what I was doing, but when I talked to Mark, he told me how the previous teacher was a veteran teacher who had been run out by a group of very rough kids. It didn’t seem like a great idea to jump from one sinking ship to another. Needless to say, I didn’t meet my daughter that Friday, and on Monday morning I told Franklin it was false labor.