I hadn’t been in there long, certainly not long enough to prepare myself for what was to come. I had barely strapped on my fanny pack and turned on my radio. I was just getting my rag to wipe down the preschool table, and there he was. I could tell he had been crying. His eyes were red and teary, and he was having trouble controlling his voice. “Randy (or Johnny or Jamal, I don’t remember the name exactly) blamed me for not getting inside in time to be first in line, and I’m tired of being blamed for everything,” he said with a sniff.
“Did you get a lunch?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Did he get a lunch?”
“Yes.”
“Then I don’t see that there is much of a problem, do you? If you both got lunches, and you both have time to eat them, then what is the problem? As long as you know it wasn’t your fault, what difference does it make what he thinks?”
“Well, I’m just tired of being blamed for everything,” he repeated, his shoulders still shaking.
“Well,” I replied, “sometimes life is tough, and we just have to suck it up and deal with it.”
His eyes opened a little wider. “Oh,” he said tilting his head a bit, “Okay.” Then he went back to his seat to eat.
As I walked over to the preschool table, I thought, “Oh my God, I just told a 3rd grader to suck it up!” Some of you are thinking, “Ooooooo, she used the Lord’s name in vain.” I’m here to tell you I didn’t. It was a real prayer. As in, please God, don’t forsake me now. As in, please God, don’t let that eight year old go home and tell his mother that the duty aide in the lunch room told him to “suck it up.” As in, I really like my job, and I don’t want to lose it.
Upon reflection, though, I may very well have taught that child one of the most important life lessons. I know he has an older brother, and it may be true that he gets blamed for many things at home. Maybe, just maybe, because of what I told him, he will be able to take life’s troubles a little better. Maybe, I made him a little stronger. Then again, maybe not. I will probably never know.