Every day I’m amazed by the wisdom of my eight-year-old. As her teacher says, “she’s a smart cookie,” and not much goes by her. You’d think after eight years I’d remember my verbal filter around her, knowing that fact. But, oh no, not me.
I know that if I plant a seed in her head, I better be willing to deal with the germination. Recently, she was lamenting about how either her father or I often miss her little school activities held during the day and rarely come on field trips. In my 40-something wisdom I got off an a little rant about how those of us that work for a living don’t always have the liberty to come to an 11 a.m. or 1 p.m. school event. School events can never, ever be held right when school starts or right before school ends. If that were the case, they may get way too many working parents flooding into the classrooms.
Note to reader: my verbal filter remains off at this point, so I failed to stop there with my little “I’m a working parent” rant. I kept going, and dared to suggest that maybe if her class had a career day those of us who work could come in and talk about what we’re doing while the OTHER parents are there for all the 11 a.m. events. I’m really not dissin’ parents who don’t hold jobs, but I think it’s pretty hard to argue with the fact that school events and the entire school calendar are not conducive to those of who work.
Before I could say much more, the seed was already growing, and Payton was on her way to becoming the “project coordinator” for career day, which meant that her mom was “volunteered” to help coordinate the day. After running my big mouth, I humbly agreed to whatever I was asked.
Since my real-life job involves a lot of plans, timelines and details I did the same for this. I sent out a detailed email asking each parent participant to stick to a 5-7 minute presentation and cover specific things, which were in line with what the kids had been asked to do on their “career posters.” Adults are the worst at following directions!
The day of the big event had me actually typing out my notes to gather my thoughts on how to explain what I do to second graders. I’m in PR. And, many adults don’t have a clue what that is, so imagine describing what I do to these eager, young minds.
We started Career Day about 2:10 and had until about 3:30. There were eight parents in all and since Mr. T and I were with the “organizer” we were the last to go. We all plopped ourselves down in those little desks and began the presentations. Now, I have to say that I absolutely love my daughter’s teacher. She’s fabulous with the kids. But, she let the first couple of parents go on and on. Granted, their careers were easier to explain – radiology tech for a Cancer Center, hairdresser, insurance broker, real estate agent – but what ever happened to brevity?
Finally, it came my turn and the kids were getting squirmy. They’d been given snacks, gifts and knew it was close to “get your backpacks ready time.” Each child introduced his/her parent, so Payton introduced me as a “problem solver” as she had written on the sign hanging from her desk. Actually, I was quite impressed, because she’s right in many ways.
Okay, without going into painful detail, the takeaway for the day is that you need to keep your presentations to second graders down to the three S’s. Keep it simple, be succinct and throw in a surprise (read here: prize, treat, gift, etc). The fact is it works for adults, too.
So, next time you’re called to give a presentation, I suggest you apply these same rules I learned from a squirrelly group of smart second graders. Simple, succinct, shiny surprises – and you’re sure to be the big hit of the day. And yes, you’ll definitely be deemed smarter than a second grader!
