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18
ZAC
“Hello?” I said into the phone, instantly worried that the unfamiliar number with the Beaufort area code meant something was wrong with Grayson. Could it be the school?
“Hi, is this Mr. Miller? Grayson’s dad?” the woman on the other end of the line asked.
Sitting up straighter in my patrol car, I cleared my throat. “It is.”
“Great, I’m so glad I was able to reach you. I’m sorry to call while you’re at work, but your wife’s name and number weren’t written on the PTO forms.”
“PTO forms?” The only kind of PTO I could think of was paid time off, or leave, as we called it. But what would that have to do with Grayson? Was this a scam call?
“Yes, the forms from the Parent Teacher Organization at the school. They were included with the rest of the admission paperwork at the beginning of the year. I’m sure your wife can explain, and again, I hate to trouble you with this. If you wouldn’t mind giving me her number, I’ll just call her instead. I’m sure she’s the one who normally takes care of these things.”
Annoyed, I rubbed my temple. “I’m sorry, who is this and how can I help you? I don’t have a wife, so if this has something to do with my son, I’m the one you want to talk to.”
A nervous stutter erupted from the woman, and I waited while she collected herself. “I apologize, Mr. Miller. I just assumed—”
“It’s fine.”
“Well, anyway, I’m Pam, president of the PTO.”
“Hi, Pam. How can I help you?”
She stuttered again, then sighed. “I’m calling because we’re in need of volunteers and monetary support for the First Quarter Perfect Attendance Ice Cream Social. Since your son currently has perfect attendance, and I’m sure you’d like to maintain that for the rest of the quarter, I’m calling to see if you’d like to volunteer your time at the social or make a donation toward the cost of the ice cream. Again, I was expecting to talk to Grayson’s mother about this, since I’m sure she’d have more time to help, but a monetary donation is perfectly helpful, as well.”
I couldn’t decide which was worse: her assumption that it had been some kind of clerical error that there was no additional parent on the form, the condescending tone she used, or the way she acted like I couldn’t possibly be the parent whonormally took care of these things.
Frowning, I picked a piece of lint off my pants and flicked it. “So this is an ice cream social for the kids who have perfect attendance, and it’s provided by the parents of the kids who get to eat it?”
“Uh, well, yes. It would be rather awkward to call the parents with students who have absences and ask them to provide their time or money, don’t you think?”
I blinked, eyes unfocused, as I stared through the windshield at the back of the PMO building. This woman sounded unbelievably vapid. Who died and made her president? “I mean, it’s a little awkward either way, I guess. Why don’t I just buy him ice cream myself?”
“The point is the party itself, Mr. Miller,” she snapped. “The kids who get to go to the party will be positively reinforced and they’ll aim for perfect attendance next quarter, too. And the kids who don’t get to go will aim for perfect attendance so they can be invited next time.”
“They’re kids, Pam. Do you honestly think they’re the ones who decide whether or not they miss school?”
“Well, studies have shown that when the child is focused on a goal like this, they’re less likely to miss school.”
As an active-duty service member, I hated the entire concept of perfect attendance. Life was unpredictable by nature, and the idea of perfect attendance being something to shoot for made zero sense to me. “Do excused absences count? Or does a kid miss out on ice cream if Little Johnny goes to school ill in order to maintain his perfect attendance and sneezes on them and they wind up getting sick? Because any responsible, considerate parent would keep a child home during the incubation period in order to not spread their contagion to other classmates, thereby actively maintaining the health and attendance of others. But that child would miss out on the ice cream social because they got sick through no fault of their own. That’s what you’re telling me, correct?”
Pam huffed. “Sir, I’m sorry if we got off on the wrong foot, but the purpose of this call isn’t to debate the concept of the perfect attendance award. It’s to ask you to volunteer your time or make a donation since your son is in the running to receive an invitation to the social.”
“What happens if he gets sick between now and the end of the quarter?”
“Well, that would be most unfortunate. But of course, we wouldn’t ask you to volunteer if your son was no longer invited.”
My upper lip curled, disgusted with her idea of positive reinforcement. To me, it sounded like something that would give those overachieving, competitive parents something else to nag their kids about.
That said, I wasn’t about to deny my kid an ice cream social on principle. If he earned it because he happened to stay healthy this quarter, he deserved to get the reward.
Sighing, I leaned my head back against the headrest. “What day is the social?”
“The fourth Wednesday in October. I’m just getting my ducks in a row, so to speak.”
I put her on speaker so I could check my calendar app, scanning the colorful dots I used to allow for an easy eyeball of my work rotation. I hadn’t done this sort of future-planning before I’d gotten Grayson, but now that I was a parent, I liked being able to see at a glance when I’d be able to make it to events. “Okay. Put me down as a volunteer, I’m off that day.”
