After Chantelle's school Halloween parade, the students went back to class and the parents all streamed away, leaving me confused. I'd thought that the kids were coming home; now my five-year-old was at her desk with an hour of school to go. She didn't have her backpack, her folder, or anything that she needed.
I couldn't go down to her classroom to check on her until the halls cleared. After waiting about fifteen minutes, the principal walked me down to her room.
Chantelle and I waved covertly at each other while her teacher assured me that they would only be watching a movie: no backpack required. Chantelle wanted to stay so I waved again and the principal walked me back.
"I'm sorry that you waited so long for nothing and now you've still got to pick her up after school," the principal apologized.
He was sorry, but I wasn't.
He doesn't have any kids of his own. He can't understand.
If there's a chance that my daughter needs me, really needs me, I will pay any price to be there.
If she could be embarrassed about not having her backpack, if there was a chance that she felt small and desperate for my help, I would gladly give anything to be there with her.
That's the difference between that well-meaning principal and myself. He saw that wait, that unnecessary trip to a classroom, as fruitless or as an unfortunate waste of time.
But to me, it was a reassurance that all was well: a certainty that my daughter was happy and secure. That's what I needed to know in order to be happy and secure myself.
As she grows up, I want my girl to know that Mom is always there for her. If she truly needs me, I will be there.
Chantelle, I am always on your team.
-Jenna
