Chris Rock and I Part Ways Over a Bully

I just saw Chris Rock in concert. It was a great night with some very funny pointed stuff. While I'm a fan of Rock's, I can't speak definitely on the history of his material though one routine about keeping your daughter off the pole being the mark of a good father is a great bit about parenting  delivered in a very funny, obscene way. I found some of his material (particularly about men v. women and relationships) rehashed and, since his bitter divorce and custody battle, more therapeutic ranting than comedy. But  the audience generally lapped it up.

He had this new bit about bullies though that I keep thinking about. Essentially he has put his daughters into private school and when he went to the orientation he heard how the school was proud of its no tolerance of bullies policy. His response was nearly to pull his daughters out of school - they needed bullies to make them tough and ready for the real world where bullies even get elected president. I get it. It was a joke. And kinda funny. But it got me thinking, which is the mark of a good comedy show in my book.

I agree with Rock that we do our kids no favours by shielding them from the real world (the irony of him making this assertion in the context of putting his kids into private school seemed not to occur to him or was at least unacknowledged). But the idea of just throwing them into that situation without support seems wrongheaded. Especially given something I just have gone through.

My boys play hockey. Two of them now at a (low) competitive level. Recently my second announced that he wanted to try out for the Select hockey team (a team selected from your local hockey club that plays against other club's teams). Honestly, I wasn't keen on the time and monetary commitment this would entail. I told him he'd have to practice more (I thought this would end it - he takes after me, lazy) Fine, he said.  Huh. I told him the only time that worked for me was at 7:00 am on Fridays before school. No problem, he said. I was flummoxed but impressed. Hard-ass.

He worked hard, improved immensely, even being named his house league's team Most Improved Player. Still I wasn't sure he would make the Select team - they were very good, very competitive and a closed shop. Then, a miracle - the entire Select team left to start up a new higher level competitive team elsewhere. So my son tried out and (like every other kid who showed up) he made the team. More importantly, his good friend who lives two blocks away also made the team. Therefore I had a built-in carpool. Which is critical.

"With three boys, I don't care how important something is to them - if there's no carpool it's not happening."

It's been a happy experience, he's getting a lot of hockey, he gets some cool team swag to strut around in and he has achieved a goal of his through hard work, persistence and a fair amount of luck. The team is actually winning many games, which was an open question given the draft process. There is another kid on this team who lives close to us who needed regular rides to games and practices. He has a single mum and they don't have a car. I can't even imagine trying to swing competitive hockey in that situation so, while I wasn't ecstatic about having to do more driving out of my way, there really was no question about we other two families stepping up and bringing him into the car pool.

Over the last few months I've got to know this kid a little and he seemed super happy to have made the team. He scored his first goal recently. But he started missing practices. And then just the other day I heard from my co-driver that he was thinking of quitting the team. Why would he do that? It turns out that some dirt bags on the team have been bullying him when there were no adults around, awarding him the 'worst player of the game' etc. True, this kid isn't an amazing player but everyone made the team because NO ONE ELSE SHOWED UP. But most of the kids on this team are very well-off, entitled, all go to the same private school and summer camp and this kid doesn't fall into any of those categories - to the degree that, instead of being driven to practices in a luxury cross-over, he often takes the bus. And I mentioned: single mum, reduced circumstances etc. In other words - soft target.

I lost my mind.

Then commenced some questionable parenting on my part. I cross-examined my son on what was going on. I got the usual dazed look, shrugged shoulder and non-committal grunt most direct questions elicit. But this time I would not accept it. Within moments I had the whole sordid story. Yes, the kid had been bullied by, surprise surprise, one of the entitled in-group. Surely we've seen enough John Hughes movies by now to know the dynamic. My son didn't participate (thank god!) but he didn't stand up for this kid either. I berated him at that moment - how many damn anti-bullying/empathy-building sessions has he had to sit through at school (at times it seems like they have one of these a week) and he does nothing? He was a tearful wreck by the time I finished with him. Then - remorse.

Clearly, though he had sat through these consciousness-raising sessions, they don't help kids with how hard it is to actually stand up and speak up against this sort of bullshit. All it does is impose another obligation on kids. And one most adults fail at, in my experience. Poor kid was just trying to fit into a new team himself and here I was expecting him to take on the whole in-group power structure like some  pint sized Norma Rae. I apologized and I told him I expected him to stand up for this kid and to support him but told him he should find the right way for him to do that. I gave him some ideas. Some were even appopriate and didn't involve swearing.

Now what I needed to do was show him how to stand up to bullies. I emailed the mom and told her we would support her and her kid and outlined what we would do. I contacted one of the team managers, whom I know to be a good man and father, and told him the story. But I heard nothing from the mom. I worried that I had overstepped and maybe she didn't appreciate my butting in. I still felt it needed to be addressed, if only to make sure my son was on a team that was worth being on.

The next day we were all notified that, after the game, there would be a team meeting with all parents and kids. Still nothing from the mom. I fretted. Close to game time she and her son still hadn't arrived - then they rushed in with only a few minutes before game time but didn't have the entrance fee. I paid for them. All I got was a brusque thank you and they rushed off to the changeroom.

I was hurt and felt I'd blundered in and made things worse.

Then I started feeling irritated. Was she actually angry at me? And  no real thank you or acknowledgement that I had tried to do the right thing? Why did I bother with this crap? And I overheard some other parents complaining about having to go to this meeting, "Why do the parents have to get involved? Let the kids sort this out." Now I was really in a bad mood.

After the game (we won!), the meeting was held and it was handled exceptionally well. No one was centred out but it was made very clear that any more nonsense of this sort would result in real and immediate consequences - less ice time to suspensions to expulsion. Everyone seemed to feel positive (me included) about the meeting and my son definitely seemed glad it had been handled without him. We were joking around when the bullied boy's mom came up to me.

It turns out she hadn't known who I was until she saw me with my son. Ego-check. She thanked me. She was very grateful. She clearly had been at her wit's end and felt alone and unsure what to do. She felt optimistic about the future. I'm sure that there will still be hiccups but I feel we turned a corner. Funny enough, my son, when asked by my wife about the meeting, shrugged and said of course everyone was being on their best behaviour because they knew what the meeting was about - little cynic. But he did say that everyone was pretty keen on playing hockey so, if for no other reason, they'd probably behave. I'm totally OK with that - I'm not expecting these kids to actually get empathetic.

Later that night we got a heartfelt email from the boy's mom - and got a real sense of how they had been struggling, thinking the situation was impossible and ready to give up but that knowing  people were there to help them made a huge difference. Her son is now happy and is eager to play. In her words, we "saved her and saved the dreams of a child". Perhaps overblown but she really meant it. I'm a cynical fellow (no kidding) but this obviously got to me. *sniff

Kids learn how to handle bullies not by preventing bullying (because you really can't) or by throwing them into the mix and letting them sort it out on their own (because they lack the skills to do that effectively) but by modelling behaviour that shows them that sometimes taking a stand and speaking out you can change things in a practical way. And that letting people know they are not alone is huge.

In that vein, I replied to the mom's email that we were all happy to help and reminded her that -

as the old African saying goes, "It takes a village to raise a hockey player."

Front Line Dispatches

 A busy couple of weeks getting the boys back into a routine (and blowing off a week for my birthday). In the interim, a couple of important developments:

The Mexican Wrestling masks have arrived. After busting my sister's chops for years about getting these when she was living in Mexico, she got some recently on a trip down to Mexico for friend's wedding. She spotted them in a market and called over a little kid working there to know the best masks to get. The answer: Rey Misterio. She snapped up three in different colours. I don't know the significance of the various colours - is one formal, the other business and the last for at home entertaining? They look awesome and initiated an immediate wrestling match. In fact, even having them line up for the photo resulted in some foot stomping, head slapping and "squaring".

 

 



In other news my eldest was spurned yet again when he tried out for Select hockey. I am really pissed off on his behalf. I am glad not to drop the big dough and have to spend an even greater time in hockey arenas. Also it is relatively low on my priority list to have him play hockey at the cost of doing anything else but, of course, you get sucked into it and he REALLY wanted it. It was crushing to have to tell him that the one spot left that three guys were fighting over went to someone else. It was especially hard when it became clear that some kids from the team didn't even have to come out to all the tryouts.

This was one of the many times when I had no idea how to handle it or what to say. How do you explain to a kid that, no matter what you do and how good you are that some processes are bogus and based on favouritism, cronyism etc.? I'm sure I sound like a bitter crazy biased parent but truly afterwards I felt partly upset with myself for allowing him to take part in this farce. Sure it's a lesson we all learn one way or another but it is a shitty one. The kid who got he spot is a friend of his and he's a good player so I don't fault him getting the spot - it's a system where not everyone has to earn their place, despite it supposedly being a meritocracy. I now understand the term Select not to mean "of special excellence" but rather "fastidiously chosen; exclusive" i.e. a club, a frat etc. I always have hated organizations like this - mostly because none of them ever wanted me - but I had naively thought that this wasn't one of those groups. Foolish me. I have to be careful not to let my own prejudices inform him, I guess, but mostly I don't want him to get discouraged from trying out for things that he wants - maybe just know that their choice doesn't define him.

My own dad, a tremendous family booster, told my son that he was better than half of the players (having seen him in action with them over the last year) no matter what the coaches said or did. My son really perked up at that and his face cleared. It's important to have your fans and supporters when times like this happen who give you unflinching and unqualified support. Another lesson in Dadding I am reminded of from my first teacher.

Next, it was the first school trip of the year for me and the second born. He has  just started at a new school with wholly new kids. I wanted to go to see how he was fitting in and check out the teacher and the rest of the class. I am happy to say I was completely superfluous to the event - he was already well integrated with the group and happily ignored me on the bus ride out. It was a cold day supervised by some very enthusiastic counsellors so the teachers, other parents and I mostly hung out in the heated portable drinking coffee. So, unlike the first case of being glad to be there to offer support to the oldest I was even more happy to not to have to with the second - content to sit back and let him go off on his own. There was one mum who never seemed to leave her kid's side the whole day. Is that a Mum v. Dad thing? I am happiest when not needed - because it tells me I've got him ready for life on his own. That said, I was very touched he wanted to snuggle up with me while he ate his lunch.

Lastly, today, while walking to school with the youngest was an unqualified pleasure and one of those times when it is just fun to be a dad. It was one of the days he wanted to hold my hand - already a nice and less frequent way to start the day. A sunny but cool morning, we raced from pool of sunlight to pool of sunlight quickly becoming solar powered robots complete with action sequence sound effects. By the time we got to school he told me with a big smile and using his hand to act as a charge indicator, "Daddy, we're now more than charged up."

I certainly was super charged by that walk for the rest of the day.

Zombie A-POP-calypse?

Well the signs are certainly there that my evil influence may be growing.

For one, one of my previous Pop Culture posts, Zombie Hockey Dad, now appears slightly repurposed on the worthy The Good Men Project site.

And for another... well that's about it for now... although I'm closing in on almost 1000 pageviews. Come on, Guinea and Hong Kong, haven't seen you checking in lately.

Look for a new post next week - this will likely have to hold you for now.

Zombie Hockey Dad

The real hockey season has begun. Not that ridiculous money-poisoned sideshow which is the NHL, of course, but my kids' hockey. I love watching my kids play sports and get so  involved and excited to see them at it. That said, I would probably be as invested to watch them write a math test but they don't have spectators for those. I would like to stress here that I am a CHEERING parent not a HECTORING or BELITTLING one. There's a big difference.

I was never so offended than when, a couple of years ago, a Mum looked over at me as I shouted out some words of encouragement and said in contemptuous tones - "Wow, you're a real hockey dad." What? Me? One of THOSE guys? That caused me no end of shame and soul-searching. After a couple of days I realized that she didn't know what she was talking about. I just get really excited watching my boys, I root for them and I can't help my enthusiastic responses. So screw her and her repressed uptight judgment. Still I wished I had a good comeback.

This year my eldest son decided he wanted to try out for Selects (where House League players are SELECTED to be on a special team which plays against other arenas' Select teams). We had to move arenas so that he could do this and change various holiday plans to accommodate the tryouts - none of which I minded too much - I was glad he wanted on his own to aim for a big challenge. I was pretty ambivalent to say the least though about him making the team. The money, the time, the commitment to bad arena coffee etc. I also was fairly sure he wouldn't make it - is a Dad allowed to say that? I was dreading the comedown if he didn't make it.

He also created an interesting dynamic in me - he said he wanted to make the team but from what I could tell he wasn't really working towards it or practicing much. It is moments like this when I feel like a zombie snail.

What? You don't know about zombie snails? I learned about them through my son's science project last year. These snails are infected by a parasite which takes over their nervous system and causes them to crawl out into the open where their eye stalks swell to huge size and pulsate with psychedelic colours until some bird comes by and eats them (thus spreading the parasite to a new host which can spread it further afield). Here's a link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EWB_COSUXMw

I feel taken over by something which causes me to demand him to practice for a tryout which I am ambivalent about enrolling him in and which I even doubt he will make. And by encouraging him I may well reap the harvest of tears and disappointment - does this make sense? I don't think I've ever claimed that my behaviour makes any sense. The lesson I'm trying to impart to him is of course that you have to work for these goals but I know I just come across as a nag and he ignores me.

So, we struggle over to the rink for the first tryout. It was packed with people buzzing with stress and anxiety and dread. I'm talking about the parents here - the kids seemed pretty upbeat. You could actually smell it in the air. People try and joke about it, they don't really care etc. but it's not true. They care. Their eyes are glued to the ice. They mutter, they wince, they clench their hands, they let their coffee go cold. And I am one of them. I have been taken over by the parasite. All of a sudden, I really want him to make it. I shamelessly live vicariously through him.

After the first tryout we debrief and I give him yet another piece of advice on how to play i.e. don't drop so far back when the forward is coming in. I can't help myself and I know he is not listening but I do it anyway - I am possessed. After the second tryout he is actually selected to go to the final tryout where the final cuts are made. As I watch him at the third tryout, I can't believe it - he actually follows my advice and makes an amazing play. I am so happy. This whole thing was worth it for that moment alone. Across a sheet of ice and with plexiglass between us we share a father-son moment. Well, he was probably unaware of it but I sure was.

He did a great job, worked hard and I was extremely proud of how he did. A couple of other dads told me he looked like he might make it. Huh? This was not part of the plan. I had not actually contemplated getting this far. I started wracking my brains for how we were going to make this work with our already busy schedule, two other kids etc. In the end he got the call to say that he didn't make the team. I think he took it better than I did.

Somewhere deep inside myself I had to laugh at Zombie Hockey Dad who suspected politics, fixes and just plain bad judgement in the decision. I was careful not to say any of that to my son or the coaches but I did tell my son that I think they missed out on choosing him - he would've been the heart of that team. He sure made me feel that way.

So next time some officious so-and-so calls me a Hockey Dad I now know what to say in reply: "Yeah? So what?" Pretty good, huh?