Dads Who Can, Teach

Alyssa is the child development professional in the family. She has umpteen years of college, a decade of workplace experience, and a history of overcoming obstacles that would cow the mightiest of men (or women, though they're a fair bit tougher). When it comes to kids, she unequivocally knows her stuff.

I, on the other hand, have a professional history that could best be described as "flaky" or "say that again?" Yet, as the work-from-home parent, it falls primarily on my shoulders to teach and discipline our little 2-person contribution to the next generation. Alanis Morissette might call that "irony."

I like to employ Alyssa's tried and tested discipline strategies now and again. I also like to yell, pout and get personally offended when my 5-year-old defies me. Hey, I'm a work in progress. Unlike Alyssa, I have no formal training as an educator, but I do share her love of teaching, and get unreasonably excited when my kids ask me questions.

Now, I'm aware that I am not the shiniest truck in the Hot Wheels box, but I've read enough National Geographic to know, at a functional level, how the world works. Yesterday, on the way to the museum, Anni asked me how volcanoes get into the ocean. Heck yes! I thought. Teachable moment! I went on to mouth-paint a word-picture of Earth's innards. I explained it layer by layer, beginning with a core of white-hot, molten rock and ending (more-or-less) with Mount Doom. I hit every scientific note, brought every concept down to a kindergarten level, and basically thought I gave a slam-dunk explanation of geology and volcanology.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she told me.
"Come on!" I pleaded. "Water is liquid ice! Just like lava is liquid rock! Don't you see?"

The volcano lesson ended in a wash. I'm not even really certain I answered the initial question. However, later that day I received a chance at redemption. You see, our family has recently become enamored of Avatar: The Last Airbender. The titular character and his friends spend lots of screen time flying around on the back of a preternaturally large, six-legged bovine -- an albino sky bison named Appa. Asher awoke with glee yesterday, his birthday, to find his own Appa looming over him, like so many characters in the show have done.

"Daddy, are bisons real?" he asked, clutching the stuffed animal. With a victorious smile, I assured him that they were, except that they only had four legs, weren't white, couldn't fly (and also that the plural of "bison" is "bison"). He frowned, realizing I was essentially describing a cow, but nevertheless agreed to stop by the game preserve to see them in real life.

We did many fun things that day, but the payoff came right then:  watching waves of sheer amazement take the kids' faces, as the three-quarter ton behemoths plodded along the slope. In my children's wide eyes, their hollers, gasps and laughs, I found rekindled my own life-long fascination with those regal beasts.

The kids asked questions. I answered questions. Once again, I got to be the smartest man on the planet -- only this time, I think the lesson stuck. Take that, Alanis Morissette.