Foolish Family

Three Generations of Educators 

I am a third generation elementary school educator.  My grandmother taught primary school.  My mother was a preschool teacher and now teaches 3rd grade.  I am a K-4 school counselor, specializing in playing with puppets and building with legos.  I have found that in order to work well with young children two things are essential: 1) you need to be willing to make a fool of yourself on a daily basis and, 2) you need to have the ability to memorize every nursery rhyme or silly song ever written (this skill will also help you with skill #1).  Both nature and nurture helped me to strengthen these necessary skill-sets and, as a result, I can entertain my children and friends for hours on end with a variety of children's songs and poems without ever having to repeat myself and without putting too much thought into my audience's characterization of my mental state.  I have also discovered, through incidents described below, that a gift for creating your own prose and then attempting to pass it off as commonplace, often goes along with these other inherent traits.  This, my friend, is where my story for today lies. 

A few years ago I was showing off both my skills of memory and of tomfoolery by singing the theme songs to the cartoons of the early 80's.  I was on a streak when the friend I was with brought up the inspiring and gripping show "Today's Special", which happened to be an old-school favorite of mine.  I started belting out the lyrics to the opening song: "Muffy Mouse comes to visit our house every morning at 6:30.  She talks in rhyme all the time while telling her little stories."  But instead of  applause or praise for my excellent rendition of the classic song, my friend insisted that I was mistaken and hummed out an entirely different tune, which he believed to be the theme song.  While the song he referenced did sound familiar, I was positive that I was correct and my song was the one that started the show.  

Although confident in my position, I needed back up to prove my case.  So, I called my role-model in all things ridiculous and random, the woman who bore me from her loins, my Mother.  But when I started singing what I believed to be the theme song to my beloved show, I was met with a strange, worrisome silence.  What happened next was not only devastating but would begin a pattern of embarrassment and disappointment that would last a lifetime.  

Mom, Ben, & I (twins in tow)  

That was the day I discovered that I had been deceived.   The song that I had so confidently sung to my friend was in fact created by my devious mother to lure preschool aged me from my warm bed in the morning and downstairs to my bowl of cereal and favorite morning television show.  If this had been the one and only incident of betrayal and deceit I might have been able to move on with my childhood and integrity intact but I am sorry to tell you that this is not where this story ends.  


Mere months later I was having a small dinner party at my apartment when I made a comment about my lack of cooking and domestic skills. I said, "I am no Kitchen Canary."  But again, I was met with confused, blank eyes.  "Bri, what the hell is a Kitchen Canary?!", one friend responded.  I replied that it was a saying, of course, meaning that I couldn't bee-bob around the kitchen with ease.  After consulting with all the other party goers, it was clear that I was the only person present who was familiar with this clearly (at least to me) common place expression.  I had not yet learned my lesson, so again I consulted with my sayings, songs, and silly poem guru.  This time my Mother did not falter and insisted that "Kitchen Canary" was an often used American phrase.  But in the face of much controversy (my growing swarm of opposing friends) she followed up with her own foolishness expert, aka my Grandmother.  My Mom got a taste of her own medicine as she was met with the same awkward silence she had recently given me.  It turned out kitchen canaries hadn't traveled outside my extended family and was a creation  of my Grandmother.  

These incidents have now happened enough times that I question every song, phrase, and rhyme that comes out of my mouth, quite the burden to bare.  Since my Grandmother passed away a couple of years ago, we are often not able to trace the origin of some of our favorite silly sayings.  So, we give her the credit and a smile, and know that she is looking down and laughing at us for the confusion her craftiness caused.  

Now I am charged with the responsibility of creating silly songs and poems for my own children that they will mistakenly believe all of their pals will also know.  I look forward to the day when they look to me for confirmation after a performance of unrecognized material and I get to fill them in on the foolish truth.  Inflicting embarrassment and the opportunity for ridicule on your own offspring, the pleasures of being a parent! 

My Mother & Grandmother

Because I know he will demand credit, I should say that it was my Father's idea to write about this topic.  Look for future entries to be centered on him, as he is perhaps the biggest character of all (at least in my immediate family).