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Back-to-school point for the Apocalypse

August 26, 2010

My daughter started second grade today, so this back-to-school post should be a nostalgic meditation on how much she has grown. Instead, it’s a bitchy self-indulgent rant, because my dog has no balls.

Um, yeah. What I meant to say is that my dog was neutered yesterday, and he is apparently unable to sleep through the night without his testicles. I was up at midnight. Then 1:30 am. Then he slept for 2 hours but the fucking electric company shut off the power and set off the alarm. And then he needed to pee. But he can’t pee if he can’t sniff every goddamned plant in at three block radius, and it took me another 15 minutes to take off his cone of shame. At 4:00 am, I stopped trying to sleep and watched Law and Order until the alarm clock rang, so I am too tired and bitchy to play nice.

Which is a happy coincidence, because I am going to talk about my daughter’s school, so there will be no need to play nice.

My daughter goes to a public arts school (think Fame with less talent) run by a team of pedagogically impaired artists and a principal with the social skills of a gym sock. Because this school is “special”, the kids in elementary school have lockers, homerooms, and travel from class to class. Now, an educational institution run by staff with no pedagogical impairments would send you the homeroom and class schedule at the beginning of August, rather than gather the children and parents of grades 1 to 3 in the auditorium and read off the class lists like the fucking NHL draft. But since my daughter’s school is run by pedagogically impaired artists, what we got was the draft. Because the first day of school isn’t stressful enough for these kids.

And then we got the speech, which is the whole reason they rope parents into the auditorium in the first place. The please-make-sure-you-show-up-at-the-bus-stop-on-time-and-put-their-names-on-their-lunch-boxes- and-don’t-bring-your-kid-to-school-late-and-you’re-not-allowed-to-enter-the-building-when-you-drop-them-off-because-you-might-be-a-gunman-and-our-teachers-don’t-want-to-talk-to-you-anyway speech. (Yeah, gunman. Last year, grade 2 got a Duck and Cover style speech to prepare.)

I have been an elementary school teacher. I have taught everything from kindergarten to academic upgrading in a minimum security jail, so I know what it’s like to be on the other side of that desk. But I still can’t understand the distaste schools have for average parents like us. I know some parents show up late every day because they don’t give a damn. Some parents expect teachers to raise their kids for them, and some are so involved that they become capital pains in the ass. But most of us are hard-working people who love our kids, value the education they are getting, and try to do everything we can to help. It would be nice to be treated with respect for a change.

The Apocalypse: 18.5

Humanity: 14.5

  1. Elah permalink


    • Got busted by Paul this morning for trying to help Chloée open her locker. Fucker. (Paul, not my daughter. Obvioulsy.)

  2. Amen!
    (and I hope your dog can sleep without his nuts tonight)

    • He’d better sleep without his nuts, or he’s going to lose the rest of his equipment too.

  3. From one parent/teacher to another – A *freakin * men! The only people worse to deal with are the police…..and maybe the DMV.

    My question is, what make the “office ladies” so damn powerful that everyone – parents, teachers, and administrators must bow and genuflect when in their presence….when my son was in elementary school each parent had to bring a gift to the the head office lady at Christmas or (the rumor went) your child would never make it to the end of the year….I grew up in a mostly Italian neighborhood and the office ladies were much scarier than the guys with the thick necks.

    PS – give you dog my condolences.

    • This morning I got caught upstairs (had to make sure my 7-year old could open the combination lock on her locker) and I think my name has been noted in a big black book. Ony 10 more years to go…

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