This past week I attended a wonderful Christmas concert at
my grandson’s playschool. Sixteen four-year-olds sang and danced as parents and
teachers proudly watched and prompted respectively. The whole show was quite
amazing, both in content and competence, much thanks to Mrs. M and Mrs. A –
such a lot of love and hard work to bring them to this point. I was proud to be
a member of that audience. That said, the reason I’m blogging is because of
what happened before the concert.
Just a little thing, nothing earth shattering – or maybe it
is. Let me explain. I arrived a little early, before all but one other lady. Once inside the
spacious coat/boot room, I stayed just inside the door as the moms, dads,
siblings and grandparents arrived.
Being the helpful person that I occasionally am, I opened
the door and held it when I heard others outside. The first family came in, mom
carrying gift bags, dad carrying toddler. Another group arrived, I opened the
door, smiled. A third group – the same.
At this point I am beginning to feel a bit like a friendly
Walmart greeter so I decided to keep some very informal statistics. For the
rest of the arrivals, I opened the door, smiled, and attempted to make eye
contact as people arrived. Out of the 40 – 45 adults gathered, only 8 adults
acknowledged my presence by saying either “thank you” or “hello”.
I understand that people are busy and fitting a playschool
concert into a crowded schedule is a challenge for some. Minds are not on the automatic
door opener. I’m a familiar face to the moms and dads that I see twice a week
as they drop off and pick up my grandson’s classmates, but invisible?
I know from volunteering in this same little class that the
kids are cute as buttons but as pretentious as hell too, some with a very
distinct four-year-old sense of entitlement which, in my own observations, the
teachers handle with kindness, dignity and firmness. Manners are important in
the classroom.
So, I’m wondering – Grown-ups, haven’t you ever heard of
monkey see, monkey do? Or in more polite terms, do you not understand that you,
as the adults in these children’s lives, are their first and most influential
role models?
I do not think for a minute that I deserve accolades for
opening the door, nor do I think even one of those adults meant to be rude. It
just seems that consideration toward others, especially to those we don’t have
a direct connection to, is a thing of the past. And I think that is really sad.
As we left, my daughter held the door for me. I
automatically said thank you. She laughed, said it was a test. I guess I
passed.
