For those of you who have been to school plays, recitals, and fashion shows from the time your children were in preschool to the time they graduated, I write this piece. At the beginning of the play or performance, the director announces that everyone is to silence their cell phones so as not to disturb the event. Further, they request that you stow your phone. The school will be recording or taking pictures that will be available to everyone the next day on the school website. Everyone complies and stows their phone. Except for that one rogue parent. There is always one rogue parent. What are they thinking?!

During a preschool music performance, I remember one father, cell phone in hand, walking up to the front of the stage mid-performance to snap his darling daughter in the front row. What was he thinking? Where do these people come from? More recently, at a performance, the announcement to silence your phones came with the good news that the performance would be recorded and sent to everyone who had purchased a ticket. That sounded great.

The house lights were dimmed, and the performance was moving along smoothly. The stage was well-lit, the music was grand, and each part was well-played. Then the dreaded “camera parent“ appeared… Standing, clicking, flash going off. What is she thinking? I wonder what her child is thinking. Is it: “Thanks Mom, that makes me feel special.”? Or is it: “Oh no, it’s my mom. I am mortified.” Or is it: “Good grief, I cannot imagine she is doing this again”.

This parent has not only created a dilemma for her child, but she has given the royal “finger” to the audience, the school, and the participants on the stage. Help me out here. What is she thinking? Of course, every other parent in the crowd wanted to photograph their child doing their one valuable line. However, they respected the school’s announcement, put their phones away, and placed them on silence. The request was to focus on the event as it happened and let your heart swell as your child took the stage.

This is what that mother is missing. Her heart is not swelling. Her palms are sweating as she sneaks her camera out and attracts the attention of the audience with the inevitable flash. Yes, she has captured a picture. Yes, she has embarrassed her child. Yes, she has defied the school’s request. And she has robbed herself of that moment of pride when your heart wants to jump out of your chest because you are so proud of your child!

I must wonder about the emotional needs of this parent and how she has been parented. What leads up to this defiance? What is the background that overruns the school’s best intentions? Some part of me wants to reach out to her and say: “I am sorry for whatever that painful history is.” Some part of me just wants to swat her like a fly.