Please tell me I’m overreacting.
We have a new Music Together teacher. The “hello” song (for those of you uninitiated to this particular cult) has a verse that goes:
Hello to the mommies!
Hello to the daddies!
Hello to the nannies!
If there are no nannies, we skip that line; if there are grandmas or grandpas or babas there that day, we sing to them, too.
All five teachers we’ve known have pluralized the daddy line, even though I’m usually the only one. I sense the underlying philosophy: don’t single anyone out; we’re the supportive grownups and the class is not about us.
Our new teacher, though, makes a point of singing
“Hello to the DADDY!“
Seriously, just like that, bold face and everything.
I wouldn’t make such a big deal of this except that the teacher’s constantly calling me out. “Sing, Doodaddy! Do a solo dance, Doodaddy! It’s so great how you sing along, Doodaddy!” She even commented the first time we met on how Boo must have my wife’s eyes, which is a) not true (they appear to have come from her extraterrestrial lover), and b) while one is in the basement of one of the most gay-friendly churches in a neighborhood of gay families in the middle of a rainbow town, it’s a bit quick to assume that I’m married to a woman. Even if I am.
I’m not the only goofy, participatory adult in the class — I’m just the only male. I love being praised as much as the next person, but there’s too much of that “You’re doing a great job for a dad” implied in the extra attention. It’s complimentary, but also irritatingly exclusive.
I feel a more authentic compliment in being treated just like anyone else. Well, anyone else who’s kinda goofy. So next time, instead of “Hello to the DADDY!” maybe I’ll ask her to sing a little more particularly:
“Hello, all you GOOFY PEOPLE!”
“Hello to all you DRAMA MAJORS!”
“Hello to all you PEOPLE WHO DON’T MIND EXHIBITING THEIR LACK OF ABILITY TO CARRY A TUNE OR DANCE IN FRONT OF OTHER ADULTS!”
And if she does? Now, that would rock.