“Bribery works” is my very best parenting advice. I don’t have kids, but it’s born out of personal experience. Bribery works and works fairly well. I wouldn’t have made it through Kindergarten without it.
In the summer of 1989, I went to KinderCamp, the transitional, two-hour version of Kindergarten for kids entering school that fall. Preschools weren’t really a thing then, especially in rural areas, so this was new for most of us. Even full-day Kindergarten five days a week was new at that point. My birthday is in August, so I was barely five when the whole endeavor began. But really, the problem started at KinderCamp.
KinderCamp was held with Mrs. Robinson, a soft-spoken, incredibly patient teacher whom I was certain would be wonderful. (Years later, I babysat her kids. I remain confident in the opinion of five-year-old me.) A few weeks later, a decision to close a nearby school came down, and I got Mrs. Nelson instead. She was nearing retirement and very kind in many ways. She also was nearing retirement and was very done in a few ways. She was especially done with raising her voice, so she used a whistle to get our attention.
Barely five-year-old me hated the whistle. I was scared by it, and also an incredibly shy little kid. As a result, I both hated the whistle and wouldn’t tell anyone I hated the whistle. And so begins the year of Keeping Abby In School: A Community Effort.
Step 1: Let’s begin with the bribery. That was my grandfather’s idea, and he funded the bribes. He had a knack for figuring out little kid problems, so it was a solid plan. He previously had great success ending bedwetting by giving me a flashlight so I didn’t have to walk through the dark to the bathroom. His bribery plan was simple: fifty cents a day to go to school and not cry. I would report to him when I saw him on Friday and he would pay me for every day I went to school and didn’t cry. Fifty cents was the cost of a can of pop from the school vending machine. Back then, sugary snacks at recess were expected. My best lesson in money management comes from the whole bribery endeavor, but that’s a different story.
Step 2: Next up was getting me to school. I had loved watching my sister get on the bus each morning, but was not so keen on getting on myself. My dad started dropping me off on his way to work. The fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. Swint, always took the early morning bus duty. She was waiting in the gym for me, ready to take me from my dad. I’m told I was both cute and pitiful, wiping tears from underneath my Mickey Mouse glasses as I went from my dad to Mrs. Swint. Who knows how long it took her to settle me at the Kindergarten table.
Step 3: Breakfast. I started to write food, but we should talk about the two school meals separately. I have never been great at mornings. Food has never been great for me in the morning, and I stopped believing the “you’ll grow out of it” promises around age thirty. I need to be awake for about two hours before I eat in order to not feel sick after eating. I was also a strictly cereal child, with limited likes. This resulted in my mom packing a baggie of cereal for me each morning, and buying milk at school. The lunch ladies would always give me a bowl so that I could eat my breakfast at school. This was the system unless the state inspectors were coming and we couldn’t break the rules. They would make sure and tell me this so I could adjust my plans.
Step 4: Then, lunch. Yes, I was a picky eater. My mom would pack my bologna, cheese, and ketchup sandwich if needed, but preferred if I would eat school lunch. While we received the monthly menu, it would occasionally change. This meant a phone call to my home early in the morning to notify me of any changes, especially if the lunch ladies knew it was something I didn’t like. They would make a peanut butter sandwich for any kid in a school where many kids didn’t have something to pack. They also knew I didn’t care for peanut butter sandwiches. (We were a peanut butter crackers family.) A phone call was an easy way to make everyone involved much happier.
Step 5: Keep up steps 1-4 for an entire school year.
Step 6: Make special allowances on days when things do not go as normal. One day we had a substitute teacher and I freaked out. Mrs. Kenni, the secretary, let me sit in the office with her, which was just fine with me. She even showed me how the giant safe worked and let me lock myself inside and let myself out. She made her son try it first, so she knew it worked and I couldn’t actually get stuck in there. I’m sure there were other things, too, but I mostly remember her rescuing me the day Mr. Mason was there.
I should mention that there are failed steps, too. My mom thought I missed my family so she sent me with pictures. She was wrong on that one. My dad likely tried, “Dry it up,” a few times; that was his standard response to crying. I’ve also probably forgotten the ineffective attempts to help. I realize things would have been much harder in a different school. My class had twelve or thirteen kids at any given time; once, we might have gotten up to sixteen. My school had about a hundred students.
Still, let me tell you: bribery works.
