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Be a Man: The 8th-grade Dance
by Tom Kane
I bet a lot of the most important things fathers do are unknown to them. Once, when I was 12, my dad drove me to a dance at an unfamiliar Washington, DC, school named Sidwell Friends. I was an 8th-grader at St. Anselm's Abbey School at the time, and had been invited to this dance by a girl that my friend and classmate Gary knew. I had never met her. She sounded cute on the phone, though.
St. Anselm's was — and probably still is — the most academically rigorous school in the District. It's run by the Benedictine monks who live in the Abbey on campus. When I was there it was high-pressure, all-boys, with the closest thing to skirts being the robes the monks wore every day.
The neighborhood only added to the solitude. St. Anselm's sits high on a hill in what was a very dangerous section of DC. At the end of the day students had to ride a priest-driven shuttle to the Metro. Co-ed interaction didn't exist and socially, I had fallen behind.
It was dark when my dad pulled into the Sidwell parking lot. Boys and girls who spent entire schooldays in each others' company were running around, laughing and flirting. I figured I'd be meeting Gary near the entrance, but he was already inside, or not even there yet. I was nervous, really nervous. I stared at the dashboard and slunk down in my seat so other kids wouldn't be able to see me through the windshield.
My dad put it in park and I felt him turn to me. I stared straight ahead and wondered if he'd buy a faked stomachache.
"Wanna walk me in?" I asked desperately.
"No," he said, "you'll be fine."
There was no arguing with him — it would have embarrassed us both. My head was buzzing with self-consciousness as I walked in the amber street lights to the door of the school. I became mildly disoriented when I stepped into the flourescent light of the hallway leading to the gym. I wanted to find a bathroom. But in my head, he was still outside thinking I could do it. I blinked a bunch of times, then smiled and said hi to a couple of chaperones taking tickets before walking towards the open double doors and the spots of disco lights swarming beyond.
I often remember that moment when I think of times I was learning to be a man. Perseverance in the face of fear equals bravery. That night he gave me the opportunity to be brave, and he'd never know it unless I wrote it down here.
Thanks, Dad.
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Happy Father's Day!
18 June 2006
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