Oh. Them.

Me: What specials did you have at school today?
Daughter: Library. Health.
Me: Oh, health? What did you do in that class?
Daughter: Just the usual.
Me: Which is...?
Daughter: Germs.

Why Don't Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late is a Palpable Hit

This book is justly famous and wonderful. And here's why.

Daughter, far past bedtime: Is there another meaning for "lean." Not like "lean on me," but "fat and lean"?
Me: Yes. Now go to sleep.
Daughter: I'm lean. Brother is lean. You're... kind of lean.
Me: Go to sleep.
Daughter: Dad... Well, he isn't fat, exactly. But he isn't lean, either.
Me: Enough already.
Daughter: Hey! I'm asking some pretty good questions here!

[Still Later.]
Daughter: Did Brother's tummyache get better?
Me: Go to sleep.
Daughter: I know! [sitting up in bed, eureka style] I'll make him a Get Well Card!


Here, on the other hand, is why there should also be another Mo Willems treasure, called Don't Let the School Give Up Early. (Or if you prefer, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Summer Vacation.)
Note, sent home this week from third grade. "We have a lot of activities going on this week! Tuesday, AR points Pizza Party! Wednesday, Reading Celebration! Trip to Mini-Golf. Thursday: Wings party! Health Party! and AR Points, Ice Cream Party! Next week I have attached a number of notes for activities. Monday is a school-wide luau. Please send beach towels marked with your child's name. Also, I will take our class fishing next week. Please return permission slips!

Please help your child stay focused in school this week as we have several tests for grade cards."

Like Indiana Jones... but with more screaming.

Son, in back of car yesterday afternoon, musing about school: Well, that part was boring.
Daughter: Don't include me.
Son: What?
Daughter: I'm not boring.
Son: No, not at all. You're not boring. You're a whole different adventure.

Smile!

Daughter decided at bedtime last night, with wet hair, to have pigtails AND a pony tail put in. Evenly spaced around her head, she looked quite Junie B. Jones-esque. Surprisingly, they were all still in place this morning, so she wore them to school. Given that it was "wear your sweats to school" day, and that she has a matching set of pink athletic top and pants, she looked like she was headed out to a gymnastic meet.

And she looked... older, in addition to a little bizarre.

I'm wondering if this entire week has been a way to get parents to pay attention to school pictures day, which is tomorrow. They wore crazy socks on Monday (well, those who remembered to, after a week's vacation); sunglasses on Tuesday, clothes inside out (and/or back to front) on Wednesday (which had me wondering about the efficacy of flies on trousers when in the back...), and sweats today. Or maybe it was just a way to get all the different things kids could do for picture day OUT of their systems so they would submit to being dressed up nicely tomorrow?

Son, who didn't realize we would SEE school photos once they had been taken, scowled for them last fall like it was a mug shot. We pointed out that we actually paid for pics, and they got sent around the planet to the walls and wallets of relatives elsewhere. We pointed out that Son would have to pay for the retake with his own pocket money if he did not attempt at least a pleasant countenance. His teacher, who has a good sense of humor, has used the "mug shot" version in any school hallway affair, while reserving "pleasant countenance" for Christmas ornaments sent home from school, and the like.

I recollect telling my mother that "everyone" would be wearing party dresses in our school photo, and then being shocked that she had physical evidence to the contrary when the pics came home with me... and I was the only one in a full-length party dress (hey, it was the 70s).

What tales of school photos do you have?

The Eleventh Hour

Since we were all a-scramble to get the pinewood derby cars and rockets ready to race last Saturday, we have left other things undone. Last Friday night, we were still adding wheels to cars, and sorting out rocket propellers. The results were as follows:
Son's rocket placed 4 out of 4 in his den. Son cried.
Son's car placed 3rd out of 10 in his den. Son gets to race at Districts. Son wants to know how to make the car go faster yet. Parents wonder why Son didn't care about that last week.
Daughter's car won the popular vote for "most colorful car" out of all the entries... some 40 cars. Daughter was at pinnacle of happiness.

Now, it is Wednesday night. The eve of the science fair. Parents divided and "conquered." I let hubby pick the child. He picked Son, and his gravity project. Daughter and I got to work on her trifold: "What spiders eat."

I spent some time staring, horrified and unable to turn away, at computer images of spiders eating things. Like: a bird. (Hubby's comment: "That's Australia for you." He can say such things, being married to a kiwi wife.) Daughter roller painted her trifold with pink glitter paint. She has adhered lacy cutout webs, drawn spiders sidling up to flies, and typed or wrote all her labels. Things hang off her trifold from poorly rolled scotch tape that daughter insists is the way to adhere paper to glittery, shiny trifold. Points to OCD parent for not interfering.

Hubby played while the sun shone. Son also played. Right this minute, at fifteen minutes past bedtime, Son is dressed and messing with helium balloons. Hubby is desperately trying to explain how gravity is acting on mass.

I feel superior. However, the snow is coming, and there are terrific odds the science fair will be canceled.

The Two Year (k-12) Itch

Son, eating breakfast: I'm not going to school today. Yesterday, I quit.
Me: No you didn't.
Son: I... retired?
Me: Nope.
Son: Oh! I dropped out!
Me: NO, YOU DIDN'T.

Fair Enough!

Son, immediately on entering the house at 3.20pm: "Great, can we eat?"
Me, perplexed: "Why are you so hungry?"
Son, as if it's obvious: "Because I just spent seven hours in an elementary school!"


Ironically, in addition to a school-provided snack, a home-provided lunch, and a PTO-provided carmel apple (at the afternoon reading celebration), I figured it was indeed a fair comment. After all, I had only spent two hours in the same elementary school, and was ... hungry too. And pooped. People who spend all day in elementary schools but who are not themselves elementary school students: Kudos to you! Me, I'd have to keep pockets full of chocolate. But I had my first lovely session with a second grader (not my own) to begin story development with them for their young author stories they will write after the winter break. Forty five minutes flew by, and second grader number one has a map and story notes. Her story is going to be a hit!

The Marriage of Two Minds, Admitting Impediment

I feel a dolt when I've "corrected" Son's 2d grade homework (and usually I think I've gone over it rather well) and it comes back from school the next day with one of his answers wrong, and circled by the teacher. I guess a few get by me. Which gives extra pleasure when one comes home from school unnoticed by either teacher. It doesn't happen often, but today's is great fun.
Q: What is the meaning of "gal"?
A: Wife.
Which is lovely, but when the question is posed by a Math Facts sheet, I suspect Son meant "gallon," instead?

The New Moon with the Old One in Her Arms

New school year; one returning student one new; one new lunchbox one returning; two new backpacks; one new teacher one old teacher revisited; new (newly built) classrooms; new principal; new (to us) superintendent. New all-day kindergarten in the district (hence the new construction.) New rules about pickup (don't enter the school). New furor among parents (we want to enter the school; and there's no canopy over the doors you want us to wait outside, which is only fine when it isn't raining or snowing).

When I asked daughter last night what she was most looking forward to in her second ever day of school, she said: squishing bugs. She took care of two cockroaches in the brand new hallway outside her classroom before 8am, so I'm afraid it's going to be all downhill from there for her today!

The new policy against parents coming into the school to collect kids seems misguided. First, the sign out front says parents are welcome. Second, by putting the parents and guardians of 400 kids together on the sidewalk, you have an organized mob. We should actually hold PTO meetings, ten minutes at a time, right there. Third, it is not safer to send my 2d grader out with instructions to "come back if he doesn't find a parent." That's just... wrong. How do other schools do it?