For many years (11), I sat behind the desk as a school administrator and passed informed judgment on student and teacher situations. Somehow, all of those years offer only a little reassurance and comfort when your own child comes home and says, "I was sent to the principal's office today." Last week, my 7-year-old second grader tearfully exited the vehicle and was told by his father that he should "tell mom" what happened at school that day. It was Friday, and I had eagerly driven my 40-mile commute home to spend what I planned to be a great evening with my husband and son. So, when he exited my husband's vehicle in tears, I had the mixed mom emotions that included: "who hurt you (protective instinct) ... what did you do (principal instinct) ... what can I do to support you (mom instinct)." When he blurted out, "I had to go to the principal's office today," I was taken back. This from my far from perfect little guy, but not one to get in trouble at school nonetheless, was concerning.
We entered the house and he tearfully told his father and me the story of his effort to defend a younger friend from an older student on the playground. The older student told the teacher he heard my son say the "F" word .... no, not "Fidelity" ... the real "F" word. As soon as he said that, I knew something was askew. Yes, I know he knows the word. I also know that he doesn't hear it at home; we had a frank discussion about the word months ago when he first heard it. And, of any inappropriate words he may have ever used, the "F" word was not one of them. Of course, the administrator in me who had witnessed countless innocent, kind children "break" under pressure and use such language caused me to question the poor kid until he broke down sobbing. His father, also a school administrator, and I stood over him at the kitchen bar as he sat on a stool. We asked him over and over if the word "accidentally" slipped, if someone around him said it, or if he said, "what the ..." and the other student assumed the rest. He just tearfully looked us in the eyes and said, "I didn't do it; don't you believe me?"
After questioning thousands of children over the past 17 years, I realized that I should easily be able to determine whether or not he's telling the truth. I was well practiced at it as was my husband. By the end of a thorough investigation, my original instincts about the student's truthfulness were usually correct. In fact, this little incident was pretty simple on the scale of those I'd investigated ... weapons, drugs, and the like.
But this was different. At the moment he looked at me with his tear-filled eyes, I had this nauseous feeling and image of unrelenting interrogators brow beating potential criminals. This was my son. I know my son. We talk. We talk everyday. He tells me everything and we have an agreement that he can tell me anything and everything and I will always understand and love him no matter what. You see we've all three been through so much together that we have the understanding that we're a "pack." My son's love of wolves and intense research of them has always allowed us to relate our close bond as a "pack" and he understands it.
His father and I decided the best course of action would be to speak with the principal on Monday to determine what the principal found in his investigation. Unfortunately, we had a whole weekend to get through and my son is often a perfectionist who worries with unrelenting anguish when he is perceived as doing something wrong. He probably didn't realize it from all of our questions, but I believed he was telling us the truth.
I believed him because just before Christmas he told me he needed to purchase a new folder for his teacher. He then shared a story that happened in class. He had only been in the class two weeks because of our recent move, and he was in a group with other boys who destroyed their folders with pencils. He thought it was fun to punch holes in the folder as the other boys were doing. When the other boys were questioned, my son was not included. The boys were punished in some small way that included exchanging money in their classroom token economy for their poor decisions. My son had not been caught. He felt what he had done was just as wrong, so he approached the teacher and admitted he had been involved. She kindly shared her appreciation of his honesty and applied the same consequences to him. The teacher never told us about this and still hasn't to this day. My son did. He has always admitted when he has made a mistake. Our agreement has always been that his father and I can help him through anything ... it is what it is attitude ... but we must know all of the details and he must be completely honest. To my knowledge, he has been.
I found ways throughout the weekend to continue "checking in" with him. I would ask him questions and observe his feelings and actions as time went on. I knew that if he hadn't been truthful Friday afternoon, his untruthfulness would grate on his conscience. Finally, on Sunday evening as we finished watching the Puppy Bowl, I reminded him that his father was going to speak with the principal the next morning and asked him if there was anything his dad should know. When my son said, "no, mom, I've given you all the information I have," I was proud of him. Proud of him for standing up for a friend; proud of him for telling the truth even when others were saying he was guilty; and proud of him for believing in adults to make good decisions for him.
As it turns out, the principal confirmed what my son told us. He could not find anyone other than one teacher and the student who thought they heard my son say it. Those closest did not hear him. I do not know what the two heard, but I am glad that the principal was a good investigator, reasonable with his comments to my son by giving him other options for helping a friend next time, and the situation was resolved in a way that maintained my son's trust in the adults at his school.
Questions for Reflection: Have you ever been in a situation where you knew to believe the child, but had to be sure? How do you question children in your office to be sure you preserve their trust in you, but get truthful answers? How do you question your own children? How do you know your children are truthful with you and other adults?
