In the early years of education, one of the most important things teachers need to do to children is to bring in real adults to talk about their career choices and how everything the teachers are saying needs to be obeyed in order to be the acceptable type of career-minded adult.
As a side benefit, this enrichment education gives teachers and extra smoke break to contemplate the series of choices that led to this moment during...You guessed it...
CAREER DAY!
I was in elementary school when first introduced to Career Day. This was maybe doing the time of long-division - dark days...dark days.
Anyhow, the whole school or grade or whatever made banners and had balloons and made sure to treat each adult like returning royalty. Adult-time is very valuable because they are very important, children’s time is less than important because most of us didn’t know what "orthodontics" was and most of us only had our baby teeth and we still had to hear about it.
Sorry Patrick’s Dad, the Orthodontist.
There were always parades of suits because it was the 1980s and women didn’t work. Or they knew better than to waste some type of sick-day on coming into a school with 100 some brats trying to explain what Accounts Payable is or something.
My Dad has always been a fan of kids and he decided he would come in for Career Day.
Let me set the scene: Imagine the auditorium with its 500 flags from different countries around - including East Berlin but not including Narnia. The brown and black flicked linoleum floor that always seemed dirty holding the butts of like 10,000 children all jammed together with teachers walking at the flanks of the mass to keep everyone in line. I'm pretty sure one or two of them had those pool-cue type pointers or like a ridding crop or something to swat at anyone out of line.
The highlight of Career Day was the doctor guy who brought in a kid-sized robot that was suppose to make kids who were about to die feel better because it was funny. Or something. Kids dig robots.
Once that presentation is over, junk pretty much goes downhill.
Some lawyer comes up to discuss the important of tax law. Maybe there was some type of banker. Then Patrick’s dad. We could all agree teeth were pretty cool. ..I guess...he probably brought us toothbrushes which is like the worst thing you can get as a kid but he had the acrylic model of a mouth - so. . .it was a wash.
The natives are getting restless now - and up walks my Dad in a black suit with his briefcase. He isn't even dressed cool in scrubs or like a fish tie or something. He has no props - also a negative for elementary school kids.
Kids dig props.
Dad: Hi everyone, I’m Ernie!
So, really, a name like Ernie…it was not a good start. Kids are already starting to laugh. Ernie. Like Bert and Ernie. Hahaha. Yep. Kids, man. I want to say a lot of my classmates humor got more sophisticated, but, this is really where a lot of them peaked.
Dad: Thanks for having me. Who can tell me who the President is?
That’s my Dad. Boring the sh** out of us while the teachers are like “hush” and “shh” and all that. Some girl is like, "I know who!" Her hand shoots up and the kids around her are like "You're dumb!" and there's some racket in the back with the boys who are bad who were separated by the girls and probably someone just claimed someone else is getting married and...
BOOM!
...My Dad’s open briefcase hits the floor with the loudest, echoyiest bang you ever heard drawing every eye to the about-to-be laughable moment when adults drop stuff and everyone laughs...
...but no...there he was standing with an uzi that had been in the briefcase.
Silence.
Utter silence.
Dad: I'm an Agent with the Secret Service. My job is to protect the President.
Pretty much from that moment on, my educational career was established as the girl who’s Dad carries an UZI in his briefcase.
You could say my Dad single-handedly saved Career Day as he talked about all this secret agent stuff he did. I mean, the bulk of the job of the Secret Service is to prevent counterfeit money from entering into the economic – but other stuff is cool, too. At that age, anyone holding a gun is cool.
After all the presentations, we could go up to them and ask questions so everyone FLOCKED for my Dad. One of the "bad kids" ran up to him to try to claim the gun or whatever. He was followed by some teacher who was on bad-kid-duty and trying to make him not punch other kids and be a jerk.
He really wanted to touch the gun. REALLY. The teacher kept saying things like "No, now, that's not yours" and "ok, ok, ask for permission first" and "wait your turn" and "I'm going to count to three..."
He decided to stick finger into the barrel of the gun and my Dad was like “That’s one way to lose a finger.”
The kid backed the f**k down.
So, yeah, he was, also, one of the only parents to be invited back every year.
Kids: Does your Dad really carry an uzi in his briefcase?
Maddie: I don’t know, depends on the day.
As a side note, I was unaware other fathers did NOT carry guns until that moment. So it was an awkward mental transition for me.
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