A Field Report from the Spring Concert
April 12, 2011, By Craig J. Heimbuch 2 comments
FIELD NOTE
The school is a large, cinderblock-and-glass structure, modern of design and smelling of disinfectant, pencil shavings and damp hair. Rain outside means sneakers squeak and squelch as the parents, grandparents and siblings of the kindergarten and first grade students are ushered through the halls to view paintings and projects done in art class. The work was hung on the wall—more than 700 pieces of it—by a dutiful and, one imagines, young and optimistic art teacher. Immense pride beams from the faces of the arts' creators as they pose, finger pointing to their name, for photos by eager and diligent moms with iPhones and handhelds. Dad, holding the coats, tending the stroller and corralling the younger siblings, stands back to not get in the way and reminds mom that one of the dozen clicks of the shutter should turn out okay and that other people are waiting. Warm, wet body smell begins to permeate the tight hallway.
OBSERVATION
There appears to be an immense difference in attitude with regard to normal socializing among male and female kindergarten students. Girls from my son's class come up to him and, in what seems to be normal social order, greet him—name included. At least three times, cute girls in cute dresses say "Hi, Jackson," and in all three instances he is demure. His mother and I ask him—"Jack, who was that? Did you say hi?" He answers, more matter-of-factly now that he is out of earshot of the greeting girl, "Oh, yeah. That was (insert name). I said 'hi'." He patently did not.
By contrast, when greeting male classmates, my son (and the other boys in the class), exuberantly bellow--a howl more than a scream—and proceed to physical altercation of an affectionate and familiar type. They bellow some more, chase one another excitedly and, I believe, throw imaginary knives at one another.
HYPOTHESIS
Women should be left to rule the world.
FIELD NOTE
The concert is held in the school cafeteria, a large, open, oddly echo-filled space. The tables have been removed and replaced by row after row of folding, padded chairs. The stage at the front of the room is filled with a massive set of risers, each section marked by teacher name and class mascot. Students, to this point mingling with friends and studiously ignoring relatives and siblings, are called one class at a time to convene in an unseen gymnasium for staging. With fifteen minutes before the start of the show, I have the opportunity to assess the crowd, particularly the parents of similar age and socio-economic status as myself. This genus—Parentis suburbis—is easily classified into two species— Pater familias and Momis soccerosis—the latter of which merits further study on another, separate expedition. However, the din of the room—awash in muffled conversation and shifting seats—provides a perfect opportunity to observe Pater familias in a natural environment.
OBSERVATION
Pater familias, as a species, can be broken into four distinct sub-species, each with distinct patterns of dress and behavior characteristics. Observing these sub-species requires a keen eye for detail and patience. I observe all four prior to the concert and during, following with a brief period after dismissal. These sub-species are as follows:
1. Pater familias Paparazzo
This sub-specie seems obsessed with the practice of, and equipment used for, photography. In addition to an expensive SLR slung around his neck, a small digital video camera is strapped to one hand and, I believe, a closer inspection of his pockets may reveal additional camera equipment, ostensibly to be used as back up in case of failure of primary equipment. He sits erect in his chair, listening patiently as people around him speak, asking him questions, but his eyes never leave the stage. He refuses to miss the slightest detail of the performance. While the children sing on stage, he disregards those who may be sitting behind him or in his vicinity—those who may also want to see the stage—and holds his camera overhead in order to achieve a blimp-like perspective. His behavior is distracting and shows little regard for anyone else in the audience. One is left to imagine hours spent pouring over footage in iPhoto, creating a two-and-a-half-hour documentary from the 18-minute performance.
2. Pater familias Athletica
Commonly known as 'sports dad,' this sub-specie appears shifting awkward in the padded folding chairs. Note the athletic shoes and worn ball cap. He claps politely as the children sing a highly redacted version of "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey. He smiles politely and shakes hands with other species and sub-species of audience before and after the performance. But, beneath this seemingly polite behavior, is a silent cursing of the unexpected rainstorm that forced the cancellation of his team's baseball practice. The Pater familias Athletica is tolerant of the arts, but enthusiastic with regard to athletic competition—as former player, coach and bleacher dweller. He sits in the crowd to support his son/daughter, but is obviously listless and growing morose. Following the performance, he scoops up his child and tells his wife he'll be waiting in the car as she speaks with other Momis soccerosis. His attention is called home, where he will pour over line-up cards, clean the grooves of his golf irons with a toothpick and press his Lycra BIKE shorts in advance of his next opportunity to oversee competitive endeavors.
3. Pater familias Distractus
Note the stolen glances toward a smartphone semi-hidden in his palm, the loosened tie and worry lines around his eyes. The Pater familias Distractus is a man driven by duties—to work, to his family obligations and to work. He left the office early to attend the spring concert, but using his Blackberry as a tether, has never really left. He applauds after each song, except the third, for which his hands were otherwise occupied replying to an e-mail/text message/smoke signal from a member of his management team/customer team/sales team relating to an order/meeting/proposal due by the end of the week. Like Pater familias Athletica, Pater familias Distractus lacks any sense of sentimentality as it relates to the proceedings on stage. He half-smiles appreciatively, but missed his daughter's shaker solo in the number about unique snowflakes. He will tell her later that he saw it. He will tell her he loved it. He will forget all about it by morning.
4. Pater familias Oculus Leakae
From outward appearance, this sub-specie is almost indistinguishable from any of the other three. Many have been known to carry cameras, coach sports teams and loosen their ties. There are few distinguishing characteristics in the appearance of Oculus Leakae, rather the thing that sets him apart from the others is behavioral, particularly following external stimulus that is both a) cute and adorable and b) initiated by his children. The spring kindergarten concert is the ideal condition for observation of this sub-specie, particularly if his oldest child is a member of the cast/ensemble, for it is here, in these moments, that he shows his true colors. For reasons he cannot understand, Pater familias Oculus Leakae finds himself wiping tears from his eyes as his heart swells with an overwhelming sense of pride, love and nostalgia at the sight of his son or daughter raising hands above head in triumph at the end of a dance number or giggling secretly with his/her friend on stage. He's a softy, this one. Perhaps not in his regular life, but in these moments, these fleeting instances of fatherhood, he is overcome with emotion that sometimes manifests in tears. I find myself to be a member of this strange group.
HYPOTHESIS
Whatever the sub-species, the most important characteristic of Pater familias is that he shows up, not only for himself, but for that child on stage. A father can give his child no gift greater than being there. Also, we really should think about letting women rule the world.
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