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The smell of coffee wafting from Ms. Shook’s classroom is so strong that it can be smelled from all the way down the hall. She’s filling cup after cup for the dads filing into the room, offering them a Krispy Kreme donut and a smile to go with it while handing each of her students a small plastic cup of orange juice. In turn, each dad thanks her with a nod before their kid drags them toward the little desks and chairs that litter the room, eager to show them where they sit.
Luke had been so excited to carry his dad’s toolbox from the car – the job making him feel important and grown up – but practically throws it into his seat as he spots the donuts across the room. His dad knows him well enough to know that asking him to be patient will get him nowhere, so he follows his son into the breakfast line, content to wait for Luke to show him where he sits. Besides, as fun as taking the morning off to help his son build a bird house may be, starting his day around twenty-five screaming kindergarteners demands some strong coffee to carry him through.
“One, two, three, eyes on me!” Ms. Shook calls from the front of the room after she’s served everyone their breakfast. On cue, all the kids copy her “quiet signal” – their right pointer fingers pressed to their lips in a shushing motion and their other arm extended, pointer finger aimed towards the ceiling. Even though he’s quiet at her command, Luke still manages to fidget, his dad notices with a smile that he has to hide behind his cup of coffee. Public school still hasn’t broken his spirit.
“Welcome, everyone, to Dads and Donuts!” Ms. Shook says, far too perky for eight o’clock on a Friday morning. “We’re all very excited to have everyone’s dads here today to help with our top secret project!”
Well, not everyone’s dad, Mitch can’t help but notice as he glances around the classroom. In the corner by the teacher’s desk sits a lone boy, his smile faltering over his donut and orange juice as he looks toward the empty chair beside him.
Ms. Shook continues, like her last statement didn’t so obviously hurt one of her students. “Now I know that being here at eight on a Friday isn’t how most people want to end their week, but I promise that this is going to be fun for all of us.
“As you all know – and if you don’t, then here’s your reminder so that you can rush out to the store once we’re done here! – Mother’s Day is next weekend. This year, I thought it would be a fun idea for the students to make their mothers a very special gift with the help of their fathers. I’ve asked you all to bring your tools and a smiling, can-do attitude in today so that each student can build their mother a bird house. Then next week in art, the students will decorate their bird houses so that they can present them to their moms next Friday at Moms and Muffins!”
But what if some of the kids don’t have dads? Mitch wonders as he looks around the classroom, noticing that several kids are accompanied by granddads instead of their fathers. And what if they have no mom to give the bird house to? What about kids with two dads, or two moms?
Or , he thinks as he looks back at the lonely boy by the teacher’s desk, what if they have no one?
Ms. Shook finally dismisses them, telling them each to grab a bird house kit, take their breakfast, and head outside to start building. When the boy by her desk starts to get up, she lays a sharp hand on his shoulder and hisses at him to wait.
“ I will help you later ,” she says, the sugar disappearing from her voice in a second, like the hard coffee she had served each dad as he came into her room.
Luke is eager to go, but Mitch waits, sipping his coffee as he waits for the crowd around the bird house kits to dissipate.
“Luke,” he says casually. “Who is that?”
Between bites of the sugary donut whose glaze is gathering in the corners of his mouth, Luke cranes his neck to look in the same direction as his dad. “Who, Reginald?”
“Do you know that boy? Are you friends?”
“Not really.” Luke shrugs. He quickly chugs some of his orange juice, only to purse his lips when the sourness hits him.
“Why is he sitting away from the other kids?”
“He has trouble reading and spelling,” Luke says.
Mitch raises an eyebrow. “So do you, and you don’t have to sit away from everyone else.”
“Ms. Shook says that he’s a distraction.”
That quiet, forlorn looking boy? A distraction? If the same had been said about his own son, Mitch wouldn’t doubt the statement for a second. Luke has had trouble academically, and there have been notes sent home about his excited chatter, his habit of fidgeting, the way he excessively hums under his breath, his singing – How is he not the one isolated from the other kids? Mitch has to wonder. Kids shouldn’t be isolated like that in the first place, but based on the way the teacher spoke to Reginald, Mitch has a feeling that there’s more to this story.
“He’s good at math though,” Luke says, almost like he could hear his dad’s thoughts. “In the afternoons he gets taken to the first grade classroom to do math with them.”
“Is that all you know about him?”
Luke shrugs. “He has a funny accent and doesn’t have a lot of friends.”
“Can you think of anything nice about this boy?”
Luke’s eyes light up. “He has cool horse stickers on his pencil box!”
“Well, it seems like he doesn’t have anyone to help him build his bird house,” Mitch says. “I think it would be very kind if we helped him out, don’t you? Why don’t you ask if he would like to join us?”
He’s a little worried that Luke might protest to this, but instead, he drains the last of his orange juice, shrugs, and pushes back his chair. “Okay.”
“Hey, Reginald,” Luke says when he and Mitch approach his lonely island of a desk. “Do you wanna build our bird houses together?”
Reginald had been picking at his donut absentmindedly, but his head snaps up at the sound of Luke’s voice. His eyes are wide. “I don’t have anything to build with.”
“It’s okay! My dad brought his whole toolbox.”
“Luke!” Ms. Shook’s harsh voice is back as she crosses the classroom in a few quick strides. If they were in a movie, she would be rushing to push Luke out of danger. And from her demeanor, it’s obvious that this is exactly what she thinks she’s doing. But when she sees the confused look Mitch is giving her, her sugary, kindergarten teacher voice reappears. “Go on outside with your dad and begin your bird house, please. Reginald has no tools and no one to help him, so I’m going to work with him once everyone else gets started.”
“Actually,” Mitch cuts in. “I have extra tools, and Luke was excited to work together with Reginald on their bird houses.”
“But Luke will need help with his bird house, and it might be too stressful to help both boys.”
“Ms. Shook, I grew up helping my dad in his carpentry shop. I could assemble a bird house kit with my eyes closed; I think I can handle helping both boys.”
He feels angry, suddenly, on behalf of Reginald – this complete stranger. It hits him then: he originally felt bad for him because he was alone, but now he feels bad because it’s obvious that he’s being treated unfairly. From what he’s heard about him, he and Luke have a few things in common, and yet, only one of them sits by the teacher’s desk and is on the receiving end of her blunt tone. If Luke were being treated that way, Mitch would be furious.
“Mr. Patterson, I don’t think that you understand what a handful he can be –”
“I live with a hyperactive kid every day. I think I can handle one more for the next hour.”
They stare each other down then, he and this teacher. Something in her eyes hints that she was a bully in school. And then she went on to a job that would put her in a position of authority. Never a good combination. Mitch was never bullied, or even really teased, growing up, but he has a kid to think about now. He would be furious if Luke were being treated like some sort of five-year-old social leper, and he wouldn’t allow it to continue once he learned about it. Why should it be any different with this boy?
“Come on, Reginald,” he says, grabbing the boy’s plate and grabbing two bird house kits. “Luke and I would be happy to have you join us.”
And with that, he leads both boys outside to one of the playground’s picnic tables, Ms. Shook standing slack jawed as she watches them go.
Reginald whispers something under his breath as Mitch plops his donut and the bird house kits onto the table.
“Pardon?”
“Thank you,” Reginald says. “My dad couldn’t miss work, and I didn’t want Ms. Shook to help me.”
“It’s no problem, Reginald, really.”
“It’s Regie, actually.”
“Okay.” Mitch nods. “Well, Reggie, it’s very nice to meet you.” He claps his hands. “Okay, boys, are you ready to build a bird house?”
“Yeah!” Luke exclaims, already rummaging around in the toolbox. He produces a blue hammer with a dog sticker on it – his own hammer from a kid tool box that Mitch got him last Christmas after he said that he wanted to build things. He offers the hammer to Reggie.
“Here,” Luke says. “Now that we’re friends, you can use my hammer. It’s special because it has a golden retriever sticker on it. I know it’s not a horse, but still.”
Reggie’s face lights up. “Dogs are cool, too. I used to have one back in Idaho.”
“Whoa, really?!” Luke pushes his own leftover donut aside so that he can better focus on his new friend. “What kind? And where’s Idaho?”
“A border collie,” Reggie answers as Mitch starts unpacking the bird house kits. And that’s all it takes for him and Luke to launch into a conversation about dogs, horses, and everything else, just as easily as if they’ve known each other their entire lives. And, if Reggie really is as similar to Luke as Mitch suspects, they’re already having too much fun to worry about their bird houses.
Which is fine, Mitch realizes as he starts assembling one of them on his own. He would rather his son learn a little bit about kindness then about how to nail pieces of wood together.