When I was growing up, my dad would take my brothers and I to the neighborhood barber shop. My earliest memories of things we'd do only as the 'men' in the family was precisely walking to the barber's. I even remember how dad would make us run in front of him and back so as to fight the cold on our way to the shop. It's my turn now and I get to take my children to the barber.
Don Eduardo has a part barber shop, part hair salon close to our house. I don't always take all four boys at once (divide to conquer), but I sometimes do. He knows the kinks, quirks and bumps of all the boys' heads. He most of all knows their temperament. When we go to the shop, he greets each boy by name. He talks to each boy in just the right way to connect with each one. When he cuts their hair they know he's paying attention just to them. Going to the barber shop is like going home.
Don Eduardo is so good with the boys from the families he receives that the moms take their girls too. Yesterday he offered a mom to have his female hair dresser cut her two girls' hair: "No, I want YOU to cut it". I've tried other shops and other barbers, but with don Eduard I can sit back and enjoy the ride. Sure, some of my boys go to the shop kicking and screaming, but when they're there, they laugh, tell stories and run around and outside the shop.
As a Principal I talk to many parents who don't know how they lost control of what has been happening in their child's life. Quite a few parents have let things happen to their children and have turned a blind eye to things their kids are involved in. When you have a vision of what you want for your children, it's things like where they get their hair cut and who actually cuts it that can help you achieve that vision.
In Chile we have a saying: it's not the pig's fault; it's who provides the slop. The notion that adults or authority figures are responsible for whatever can happen doesn't always have a negative side; allowing things to happen can have a good side when you make good choices about what you permit.
