more events »

When my daughter entered kindergarten several months ago, an entirely different world was about to open up to me through her; field trips, volunteering at the school, making new friends, play dates and more.

It all promised to be a new and exciting chapter in our lives. And to date, that’s exactly what it’s been.

But all of that paled in comparison to one other tiny item that, sooner or later, would cross my path: the parent-teacher conference.

It’s really nothing more than a brief sit-down with your child’s teacher. She talks to my wife and me about how wonderful our little girl is, we thank her, get up and leave. Done. End of story. Right?

Not exactly.

Preparing for The Event, there’s the little matter of what to wear. Normally this wouldn’t receive a minute’s worth of consideration. Like most men, I’d grab a pair of pants, find a shirt that matched and that was that.

But this was a board meeting at the highest level. This was my daughter’s teacher and her first meeting with us as a parenting tag team. It was G and G vs. Mrs. V. And unlike my wife, this was the first time I would actually converse with this school’s Grand Dame of Kindergarten.

Friends of ours whose children had her for their teacher said it wasn’t a big deal. One said, “Just be yourselves and you should be fine.” Should?

The decision on the outfit suddenly took on a life of its own. Shirt and tie? Too formal. Jeans and a shirt? Perhaps a bit too casual. In trying to be myself, I began unraveling.

The three-mile drive to the school seemed to last as long as a trip from Fargo to Minneapolis. We stopped for coffee, discussed strategy, went over the game plan and remembered life before having children, which, at that moment translated into a life far less joyous; except for one thing: no parent-teacher conferences.

Arriving at the school parking lot, there was a slight mist in the air that reminded me of a warm, summer night walking along the Boardwalk in Ocean City, N.J. But there wasn’t a mist; I was sweating. My wife alerted me to this fact before reaching the front door. Not having a spare shirt with me, we hovered in the parking lot while I cooled down.

The idea that we looked like we were a little too interested in other people’s cars was beside the point.

When we finally arrived in our daughter’s classroom, Mrs. V. was sitting behind her desk. In the brief moments before entering, we made eye contact. She glanced at the oversized clock on the wall and, quickly, without moving her head, glanced back into my eyes. Her eyes said we were two minutes late.

The seasoned pro that she was, Mrs. V. imposed her will and turned me into a 12-year-old without saying a word.

There were two chairs in the room laid out for us. Each one was roughly large enough to fit a jellyfish. I’m 6-foot-2 and 190 pounds. Once I managed to make it into the seat, all I was able to think about was future back surgery.

Ultimately, the conference went well. Mrs. V. turned out to be as wonderful a teacher as you would ever want to guide your child.

And my therapy with the chiropractor is scheduled to end around Christmas.

---

Christopher Gabriel is host of “The Christopher Gabriel Program” from 9 a.m. to noon weekdays on AM 970 WDAY. Read his blog at http://cgabriel.com/ and preview his show at www.areavoices.com/cgabriel