There is such a thing as paternal instinct. And it is very different from its maternal counterpart. Dads are just tuned into a different frequency than moms.  When I was at camp last month, being a dorm dad was part of my duties as the Head Men’s Counselor. The director strategically places me in a dorm room at the corner of the building on the first floor. At night I had a bird’s eye view of three boys’ dorms. I can also hear what is going on above me on the second floor.
The last night of camp during the second week I heard a commotion going on in one of the rooms above me that caused me to stop everything I was doing. Now bear in mind that I had been listening to the boys wrestle, holler, and otherwise stretch their budding masculinity for almost two weeks by this point. It had not been a cause for concern. But that last night something was different. I could sense that the noise I was hearing was not the same. Paternal alarms starting sounding in my head.

I quickly bounded up the stairs to investigate and simply followed the noise until I found the right room. When I opened that door, a group of six boys looked at me with a deer in the headlights gape. “What’s going on men?” I asked. The shocked gaze immediately turned into a shoe staring contest. None of them were eager to enter the dorm dad’s portable confessional. So I asked the same question again…And of course it finally came out that I had interrupted a fist fight that was within seconds of commencing at the time I entered that dorm room.

The guilty parties were dispersed to their respective rooms with a strong paternal warning not to reassemble after I left. They are all great kids. I was not too worried. I went back to my room and resumed packing for the departure home the next day. I was even feeling sort of smug that my paternal radar was obviously fully functional. I could actually differentiate between good masculine noise and masculine clamor that is quickly going downhill. But my thoughts were soon interrupted.

I heard on the two way radio that the staff had been using during camp that one of the boys on that second floor was missing. Apparently he had quite literally run away. Why would anyone want to run away from my dorm, I thought? They have a dorm dad who loves them! (Actually I was scared to death and felt very responsible for the situation at hand.) After a brief chase, the counselors secured the boy in question. We called his youth minister to join us at the dorm.

The boy had struggled some during camp, but he is a good kid. I had not experienced any trouble from him in the dorm at night. When his youth minister told me why he ran, I felt a cold chill go down my spine. He said: “He ran because he does not want to go home tomorrow.” The boy lives with his father. I was under the impression that his contact with his mother was minimal or even non-existent. His meltdown the final night at camp was set off by fear and insecurity.

We settled the immediate problem and everyone went back to their rooms. My paternal smugness quickly vanished. I can sense it when a fight is about to break out, but somehow I had missed a cry for help from a struggling young man.  As I resumed my packing, I made a vow to come back to camp in 2011 armed with sharper paternal radar. I know my days as a dorm dad are numbered. It won’t be long until they promote me to being the dorm grandfather. I won’t be ready for that promotion until I learn how to be more alert to the needs of the kids. Today I am thinking about the words of the Apostle Paul: “Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others…”

I do believe the cultivation of paternal instincts can be included in that pursuit.  I know that my paternal instincts are need in of sharpening…