A Little Bit of Humbug

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.