It’s that time of the year when all the kiddos are heading back to school. Some parents are thrilled beyond their wildest dreams that the little munchkins will be someone else’s problem for seven hours a day. Some parents are saddened that little Mary and Tommy will not be at home for those seven hours, and how they will miss them so! Me? Meh – it’s a rite of passage. Go to school: learn that President Andrew Jackson’s pet parrot had to be kicked out of his funeral in 1845 because it wouldn’t stop screaming cuss words, or learn that standard geometry defines a side as a straight line segment; therefore, a circle has 0 sides. Go make friends, gain some independence, and bring home five hours of homework each night.
What did I dread most about the kids going back to school? School-supply shopping and Back-to-School Night. Aaarrrggghhh!!!!
School supply shopping was the worst. First, I am not an avid shopper and I am not one of those women who wake up on a Saturday morning and say “let’s hit the mall today”. Shopping has to be a planned activity for me. I need time to gear up for it. But, every year the kids needed those supplies so off to the store we went with lists in hand.
The big question was always…what kind of backpack or lunchbox am I getting this year? Decisions, decisions, decisions! Usually, they had a clear idea which way they were headed whether it was super hero, Barbie, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, or Disney. The real parental suffering came in choosing the….FOLDERS. Are we color coordinating, matching the backpack, all animals, Nickelodeon stars, or Spongebob (another thing I despise – he’s a sponge…that lives in water…how are there campfires? But, I digress). You would think the kids were selecting a china pattern for the First Lady to use when serving lunch to the Queen of England.
Once all of the necessary supplies were purchased and brought home, then I got to look forward to the lovely experience called ‘Back to School Night’. Oh Lord, help me!
It’s not so bad when there is just one, but multiple children equals a couple hours of your life you will never get back topped off with three Tylenol and a shot of whiskey once home. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate teachers. My daughter is a teacher. But, some go a little overboard. There was one teacher that had a scavenger hunt for the students to find their locker, desk, where to keep their paint shirts for art class among other things. This was child #3 of the night, and I muttered under my breath, “Just shoot me now”.
And, please explain to me why your child always asks to go visit their favorite teacher from the year before?
Once that fiasco was over with, it only meant that school picture day would be within the first five days of school, they would be getting a three-day holiday weekend in a few weeks, Halloween was around the corner (another huge ugh for me), and then the first parent-teacher conferences.
I have attended dozens of parent-teacher conferences over the years. Usually the one after the first nine-weeks was mandatory for all students and then, hopefully, you only had to attend others if your child was doing poorly or there were issues to be discussed. Let me tell you…if I had to attend any PT conferences after the first nine-weeks, child beware! Thankfully, over the years, there were only a few of those.
At those first conferences, I never knew what to expect. I was an involved parent so I was fully aware of their grades and if there was any misconduct. One that I remember vividly involved Brady when he was in the first grade.
Mrs. Sherman, Brady’s first grade teacher, started off the discussion with how well he was doing academically and he was a joy to have in class. Okay…but…Brady was my little comedian. He always had something witty to say and loved making other people laugh. So, perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised to learn that every morning, while the kids were putting things in their lockers, the boys gathered around Brady to hear the latest news from our household.
Apparently, we had a first-grade news correspondent living under our roof.
Yep, our lives were broadcast each morning on The Brady Morning Report, airing live from the locker room of Mrs. Sherman’s classroom.
He would start his broadcast with a joke, followed by a report on what I had made for supper the night before. He would segue into what is preteen sister was doing and if he may – or may not – have done something to contribute to her irritability. There might be a few anecdotes about the chuckles he and his brother had, and, if they were really lucky, they might get a story rated at least PG-13 because Brady had been eavesdropping on his parents!
Mrs. Sherman said that she really didn’t have an issue with what he was telling them (for the most part), but her issue was that he “commanded” the classroom and the boys would not settle down until Brady was done with his talk show. I had to contain my laughter because I could see it unfolding each morning, but I assured her I would talk with him and have him take it down several notches.
I love my children and I love that we live in the good ole USA, where they can freely receive an education. I love teachers, and I really do appreciate what they do for their students. I just didn’t love the whole going-back-to-school process, and I, for one, am glad I do not have to go through it anymore.
Good luck to all the parents of school-age kids – and to the teachers! But remember, sometimes parent-teacher conferences aren’t really about finding out what your children are doing at school. Occasionally, they’re about finding out what your children are telling the school about you!
Have a great year!
Until next time,
—Molly