Father's Day

A boy has to bring his dad to school for Father's Day.

Father’s Day

By 

James Begert

Timmy was a first grader.  Tall and skinny and sandy blonde hair.  He was a smart kid.  Tomorrow was Father’s Day.  It was bring your dad to school day, and well-to put in bluntly- Timmy was embarrassed by his dad.  The fathers were supposed to come to class and explain what they did for a living.  Timmy's dad just basically drank beer and putzed around in life, doing odd jobs-but he had no career.  Timmy knew if his father showed up something bad would happen.  Timmy would be embarrassed by his father. So right before Timmy went to bed, he mentioned it to his father.  The father was tearing into a bottle of cheap whisky and Timmy figured his dad would forget all about the show and tell session.

The next day Timmy took the bus to school as usual.  The morning was uneventful.  As lunch time progressed, one by one, the fathers all entered the cafeteria and  joined their children at their perspective seats.  All the fathers showed up, but one. Timmy's father.

"Timmy, where is your father?"

"I don't know Miss Shanna - I think he had to work today."

Timmy looked over the teacher's shoulder, oh no, there was dad.  Late as usual.  He was dressed in torn and stained kakis with a flannel shirt. He hadn't changed his clothes in two days.  His hair was disheveled and his eyes with bags under them.  And he had that smile on his face.  Timmy had seen that big grin before, dad called it his Vodka Smile.  Hell, usually Timmy could tell what his dad had drank just by the way his father acted.  Vodka put a smile on his face, whiskey made him tired and beer and rum made him talk a lot.  Well at least that’s what dad always said.

His father walked over to the table and shook the teacher's hand.

"How do you do, ma am?"

How embarrassing!  Everyone in the lunch room was looking at Timmy's dad.  And then all eyes turned to Timmy.  Timmy just looked down at the Styrofoam tray and did his best to ignore the glances, but he could feel the eyes of the children, teachers and parents upon him.  All the other fathers had on suits and new dress clothes, and here was Timmy's father.  Oh man, the other kids would rag on Timmy for months because of this.  

Timmy's dad sat down beside him.  Since Timmy was new to school, he usually sat by himself.  He had not made many friends yet, and after this, oh boy, he sure as hell wouldn't have any friends.  He could already hear the jokes, the nicknames, and pictures the bullies picking on him during recess and after school.  Oh, this was going to be rich.  

The principal came into the cafeteria and everyone turned to him in attention. He waved at the parents and they all waved back, all but Timmy's dad.  Timmy's dad was busy down tying his shoes.  What a nightmare!

"Fathers!  It's so good to see you all here!  As soon as we are done eating here we will head to the gymnasium with all of our wonderful first graders. Each father will have 5 minutes to talk to the class and explain what they do. We will see you all in a few minutes."

The conversation erupted into a fever pitch.  Excitement filled the room.  Everyone of this children was excited but Timmy.  Timmy thought that his dad wasn't even going to show up, and if he did, it would be just in his classroom.  But now it was going to happen in the gymnasium in front of all four of the first grade classes!  This wasn't going to end well.  Now it would be impossible for Timmy to make a single friend.

The buzzer rang and all the children quickly got up with their fathers, threw their trays away and headed down the cafeteria.  Timmy and his father lagged behind.

"What's wrong son?" said the father to his son.

"Dad.  Look at how you are dressed! Look at what you are wearing!  All the other fathers are dressed up neat.  Suits and ties and stuff.  Have jobs.  You are drunk as usual."

"Timmy, listen.  I know this day was important to you.  I'm not drunk.  I swear.  And as for my clothes.  You know we don't have a lot of money.  We're doing the best we can."

"You're not drunk.  What about your smile?  Vodka smile."

Timmy shook his head side and side in discouragement.

"This isn't a vodka smile son.  This is a proud to be your father smile.  Come on.  Lighten up.  Let's go do this.  It's gonna be fun."

Timmy's father stood up and held out his hand and helped his son to his feet.  They walked down the hall toward the gymnasium.  As they walked in they headed to the back of the room and sat down in the last row of chairs.  

"Ok first graders.  Please give your fathers a hand."  

Everyone clapped.  Even Timmy clapped.  He didn't do it because he was happy.  Just because everyone else was.

The father's went up on by one with their sons by their sides.  The principal would ask the child what their father did, they would respond and then the father explained about their given occupation.  Since Timmy and his dad were in the last row, they would be last.  Oh no!  This would be the only thing the other kids would think about all night.  Tomorrow would be hell.  

Timmy heard the other fathers speak.  He wished dearly that his father was any one of those fathers.  He would of gladly traded places with any of his classmates.  He imagined his dad being a doctor, a lawyer, or a policeman.  Any of those would of been better and more importantly, normal.  

"Ok first graders!  Our last speaker will be Timmy and his father William, please give them a hand."

Timmy and William rose and walked toward the podium with the microphone.  The children and their fathers clapped with smiles on their faces.  Timmy was so embarrassed his face started to turn bright red.  He had a lump in his throat and he wanted to cry.  He wanted to run out of the gymnasium and run all the way home.  But he knew if he cried or ran out there would be real hell to pay.

"Ok Timmy.  So this is your father, William.  Tell us what you father does." the principal said.

"Uhhhhhhhhhh, he is...."

"I am an artist!" said his father as he pointed his finger into the air.

"I am an artist.  I am a writer.  I am a musician.  I am a painter.  I am dreamer!" he exclaimed.

The kids laughed in the audience.  The fathers snickered and looked at one another.

"I am all these things.  I am a creator!  Always follow your dreams and your hearts!"

Timmy's face was bright red now.  His father did not speak or act like the others.  He clasped his hands together and looked at the ground.

"I make paintings and sell them.  I write music and play gigs.  I love life!  No offense to any of your wonderful fathers here kids.  Being a policeman or a doctor is cool, but there is nothing cooler than being in a band!  There is nothing cooler than writing a piece of music or making a painting out of your own head, and getting paid for it.  There is no greater satisfaction in the world.  Follow your dreams kids.  Follow them no matter what and never let them go.  You will be rich.  Rich in happiness and satisfaction.   You may not have a lot of money and you may barely pay your bills, but you will be happy!  Happy is the most important thing!  Thank you very much!"

“I want to be a singer!”

“I want to be a painter!”

“I want to be a writer!”

All the children screamed to Timmy’s father what they wanted to be.

All the children applauded and cheered! They clapped harder for Timmy's father than any other father.  Then the children started raising their hands.  Timmy's father spoke their language and they had questions.  He followed his dreams just like a child.  He never gave them up.  He was a child at heart.  And so the father told them.  For a half hour, he told them how to follow their dreams.  And the kids learned more that day from Timmy’s father than any other parent in the gymnasium.  They learned about life.  The next day Timmy made a lot of friends, many more than he would of ever if his dad would have been  a policeman, a doctor, or lawyer.  And to this day, all those kids remember what they learned that day.  To love life, follow your dreams, and be like a child.

©James Begert 2011