Vroom Vroom

I'm constantly amazed that being a student supervisor basically means being their mom. I'm a mom to anywhere from 6 to 8 college students! That means I was 10 when they were born!! =)
I have to call them and wake them up for their shift (easily my most frustrating, donald-duck-inducing task), advise them on resume writing skills, offer counsel when they are having roommate issues, listen to their worries about class and grades, listen (and inwardly smirk) to them romanticize about life after college (they all think life magically "happens" after college, and don't realize it usually just means some kind of 9to5!! They'll learn in time!)...and on and on and on.
I suppose that must have been me when I was a college student, but I sure don't remember it that way. For one thing, my boss never once had to call and wake me up to come to work. I was completely reliable and self-supervised.


Today a student (not mine-he's has a different supervisor/parental unit) came to me after borrowing the departmental vehicle (I am the manager and "boss" of the departmental vehicle). He looked very upset and said he had to "speak to me."

"I scraped the van."
"Okay, why don't you show me?"

And you know what the first thing that came to my mind was??? It was the response my own Daddy gave me when I:

1) popped two tires on his Ford Explorer the night before my driver's license test, and the night before an epic business trip for my dad;
2) popped a tire on my beloved, cherished, treasured, dream car, "my" (read: their) 1985 Suburban; and
3) completely totaled the little Honda my parents had JUST bought for my baby sister.

My daddy didn't act even remotely upset or irritated. He told me that these things happen. He told me that they happen to everyone at some point, and had happened to him. He assured me it would be okay, and was not a big deal. He offered to help, or in example #2, when he was out of town, I called him and he talked me through how I could fix the situation.

So you know what I did when I got out to the departmental van and saw not a scrape, but a crunched dent??

I didn't act even remotely upset or irritated. I told the little student that these things happen. I told him that they happen to everyone at some point, and had happened to me. I assured him it would be okay, and was not a big deal. I offered to help.

Even though this kid is not my own child, I must say it felt very good to "repay" the favor my daddy gave me each time I messed up! The poor kid was obviously near tears, and had a quaking voice. I felt so bad for him, and I remembered the knot in my stomach each time I had to report these kinds of things to my parents. And I remembered the paralyzing tears and sadness when I totaled their car.

So, I guess what I'm trying to say is: I have the best Dad ever. And I hope I can "repay" many other people with the daddy-favors he showed me!!