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by Irving Rothstein

Education helps one cease being intimidated by strange situations.

–Maya Angelou

Lamont Gardner was an impish kindergarten kid with soft brown eyes, close-cropped hair, a wistful smile and non-stop friends. The friends are all around him in the school yard this Wednesday but his smile is absent. In fact Lamont’s eyes are filled with tears.

“What’s the matter, Lamont?” I ask.

Lamont looks up at me, hesitates, then takes my right hand. He stands there sobbing, the tears flowing freely. He sniffles and rubs his right eye with the knuckle of his closed hand. I bend down to his level and give him my most concerned look.

“Lamont, can you tell me what’s wrong? I can’t help if I don’t know the problem.”

Lamont stares straight through me, his eyes screwing up as if they are going to burst with tears. Then he lowers his head, stares down at his feet for what seems like forever and very slowly brings his head up to stare up at me. He lets go my hand and points downward. He sniffles and wipes his nose with his sleeve.

I follow the pointing finger down to his new hiking boots, a birthday present from grandma that Lamont had worn for the first time yesterday. He was proud of them, showing the boots off to everyone. But now, oozing out and around the soles of both boots, is soft and squishy dog doo.

Now I know that every urban dweller can appreciate this little kid’s dilemma, especially if you are a walker, and a talker. The second you look up at the skyline, or turn to say a few words to a friend, or even just take your eyes off the sidewalk, you feel that soft mushy squish under your feet, look down and let out a big, “Oh Sh-t!”

Anger? Frustration? Just imagine how much more traumatic it must be for a little kid about four feet high. He’d in it up to his neck from the size of some of those piles.

“I can get you a newspaper and you can you wipe it off Lamont, if you want,” I suggest, hopefully.

More tears and more sniffles. What next? I could play the solicitous parent role and wipe the nasty stuff off myself, but with that I see a whole new line on my job description that just does not fit me. Besides, what would he do when he stepped into another pile? Look around for a teacher, right? I could just see Lamont tiptoeing around the city asking strangers, “Hey mister, are you a teacher?” and “Hey lady, can you help me?”

My mind jumps around for a solution. Lamont didn’t respond to the old newspaper idea. A hose? No, no hose. He can’t look around for a hose with every squish. But what?
And then I have it. A stroke of genius. But will it work?

“Lamont we are going to take care of this thing, but you have to play follow the leader and do everything I do. Okay?”

He nods a tearful assent. I take him by the hand and gently lead him to a little used corner of the school yard where the cement trails off into sand. I can see that we are being followed by thirteen of Lamont’s little friends. The more the better, I think. This is one lesson that should come in handy.

Bending down I look right into Lamont’s tear filled eyes.

“We are going to play and dance a little. Just follow along behind me and do everything I do.”

He sniffles and nods, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

Bending slightly at the knees I stick out my left foot and keep it flat on the ground, twist it left and then to the right. I step out with my right foot and repeat the movement, singing, “Shuffle to the left, dah-tee-dah—now shuffle to the right dah-tee-dah—scrape your shoes with all your might—do the Doggy-doo boogie—boogie all the day and night—shuffle to the left, shuffle to the right, scrape your shoes with all your might.”

As I twist, shuffle and scrape I look back and see not only Lamont following me, but a whole crowd of his little friends. They are all giggling and laughing. As we laugh, shuffle and scrape our way around the school yard we pick up more kids along the way. A big-happy replaces the big-sad on Lamont’s face. The song gets louder and louder, and soon half the kids in the school yard are shuffling and singing.

“Shuffle to the left—shuffle to the right—scrape your shoes with all your might—we are doing the doggie-do boogie—dancin’ all day and night.”

So now, dear readers, when you are in San Francisco and see people a shufflin’ and a scrapin’ down the street they ain’t crazy, they’re doin’…

Well, now you not only know what they’re doing, you know who they learned from.

–about Irving–

Copyright 2009 Irving Rothstein