If I organized parent teacher conferences

Every fall, parents across the country wait to be assigned some mutually inconvenient time for parent and teacher to conference regarding the academic progress (all 8 weeks of it) for each child. Now I'm sure for the parents of the gifted & talented students, there is a certain joy of expectation. For the parents of kids with IEP’s (Individual Education Plans for those not in the know), these autumn-fests are not the highlight of the social calendar. I will admit to a certain "oy vey" feeling in my stomach heading off to hear how my ADHD Son1 likes to shout out in class (MY Son?), talks in class-- a lot (no WAY?!), and needs to work to curb his impulses. (REALLY? Wow- I hadn't noticed he was impulsive, seriously?). I will hear that Son2 has issues transitioning from one task to another (GET OUT) and may, at times, simply close his books, push them to the side and have a good long day dream. That is the inevitable point at which I, year after year, suppress what would be a very poorly-timed giggle and try to rein in my own attention.

I don't mean to diminish in any way what the teachers do with my kids. But they're in 5th and 7th grades now. I want to hear something new. Since that would mean going to some other kid's conference which is frowned upon, I think we need to rethink the way we have parents and teachers meet. How 'bout we just cut the pedantic pleasantries and we cut to the heart of the matter. You would like, in no particular order, for me to enforce with my sons that they need to:

1) Give homework at least a passing glance
2) Stop shouting out every answer, every time, every day
3) Attempt to walk a semi-straight line to transition to class on time
4) Remember books, at least every so often
5) Chain the homework planner to their persons to ensure ready access when it counts, like say, when planning homework.

Ok? We're good to go? Pedantic pleasantries and filial formalities resolved, here's what I think we should be doing. We should be having wine. Yes, I know it's not allowed on school property, but maybe just this once we'll sort that out. What we have here are stilted interviews with parents wanting so badly to hear good news, while conditioned to one teacher after another telling them what the issues are. I can barely get through a holiday dinner without valium so I am well aware that their behaviors can be disruptive in group settings. I'm not being negative. I'm being honest. I'm their mom. I know Son1 & Son2 are scatter-brained, talk a lot, and lose important stuff. No sense wasting tax payer time telling me again. The mood's all wrong. We need to work as partners; we need to break the first marking period ice. We need... to toast.

The wrong mood all started back just a few weeks into the year, with Back to School Night. I know you need to run down the budget crisis, the NJ ASK (or whatever standardized state test du jour you respectively have), and shock and awe us with your enthusiasm for our kids. But I'm a middle school parent, and looking around the not so crowded gym, I'd say the bloom is off the rose in the parent interest level by middle school. Our kids don't leave us cute pictures on their desks and nice letters to Mommy. The novelty of sitting in their little desks is gone. The "fun" has passed. Hell, Son1 won't even tell me his locker# and combo for fear of snooping. But yes, parents should be more engaged in the education. I whole heartedly agree when I hear that. So draw us back in, with wine.

Trust me, if you uncork it- they will come. If I ran back to school nights, they would have been open house style cocktail parties to kick off the year ahead, rather than stilted, marginally attended PowerPoint displays that the teachers clearly put a lot of work in to for no where near the parent showing that they should get. We could have had punch in Phys-Ed, Oktoberfest in Social Studies (it's kind of cultural), and studied fermentation in Science. A little intro by the 6th grade Jazz band would have been nice. Can ya dig it? I knew thatcha would.

If I ran Parent-Teacher conferences, they would be very intimate little tête-à-têtes. We'd discuss test scores over brie. Perhaps some crostini would be shared as you encouraged me and I encouraged you. As these are small gatherings, one more one on one, I'd suggest we serve by the glass. Those little airline bottles may be ideal too. Ooooh I know! Set up a mini bar in the corner. While I cracked it open for some Famous Amos Chocolate Chip cookies that seem to invade all mini-bars, I'd grab a Chivas or two. By mini-bar rates that would be about $52. Doesn't seem so hard to raise the moolah to send the 8th grade to Washington DC now, does it? Think about it.

These are just my humble suggestions, for you to find some ways to build parent interest during these tween years when our own kids drive us to drink. I may submit this to the Superintendent. It's too late for this year, but maybe they could take some action for next year. I wish I thought of this sooner. This afternoon, we have Son1's Social Studies, Science, and Math teachers all in a 45 minute span. Without advance warning, they'd probably think it a little odd if I showed up with a baguette and Bordeaux. Ah well, it’s their loss.

  

Why 3-Ring Binders Are Giving Me a Buzz

At 8:30 this morning, I began one of the happiest tasks of my entire year. It’s a seasonal joy that ranks up there with trimming the Christmas tree, planting the Spring flowers, or stocking the beach bag. I am bursting with a joy that needs to be shared. I organized the back-to-school-supplies! I think I have a buzz.

A few years ago, Staples had a commercial that became an instant classic. You probably know the one I mean, with Andy Williams singing “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” as a dad gleefully filled the cart. Yeah. Right now I’m that dad. Between rotating camp schedules, kids who think they should be entertained 24/7, and every pop-up road trip being marred by record-level road construction, I’m done. I love summer. LOVE it. Always have. But now I am embracing September as the perfect month. I’ll jack up the heat and whirl up a margarita if I need a summery smile. I gotta tell ya it would have to be some pretty solid Cuervo to make me feel as giddy as I do this moment writing Son1’s name on 27 places on folders, binders, and sundry supplies that’ll be lost in week anyway.

The only time I can recall feeling this happy for school related reasons was when late August meant back to college time. I attribute it to the feeling of impending freedom I felt. Right now, I’m less than 24 hours from freedom… freedom to go to work and know that from 8:45 through 3:00, my kids are in one place for recurring days and weeks, with no ride or pickup needed midday. Just off in the morning, and clear sailing until late afternoon when there’s an after school program. What’s more, next week, it will be exactly the same thing. And the week after that. And the week after that. For months on end, my days will be more predictable. Including their transit time, and barring any calls from the principal, school nurse, or school disciplinarian, I can rely on seven hours of just work time. It just took me five minutes to type that sentence because I was laughing too much to keep my fingers on the keyboard.

I won’t be spending days relaxing in the backyard, gardening, or jogging midday. I really am this stupid-happy at the mere thought of sitting in my office sure in the knowledge my 12 year old is accounted for, for nearly a full business day each day. No one can call and ask me something his father answered two seconds before. No one can call three times to ask if I take them bowling, to a movie, to Six Flags. It will be bliss. I may finally get work done. I’m especially looking forward to nearly eight tattle-free hours, since people in my office usually don’t unravel into whinefests of allegations over missing Wii controllers. They also won’t normally race to the laser printer tackling each other to make sure they got the last copy of whatever was sitting there.

There’s a bit of delusion tucked inside my euphoria, a little inflated optimism. There’s something so promising about all the clean binders, untorn folders, and unchewed pen caps. I know in a week this stuff will all look like it was run over by a truck. I know my color coding system for each subject will be totally ignored. Well I shouldn’t say totally. Son1 will ignore it. Son2, Felix to his brother’s Oscar, will take two weeks to develop his own system which will be so elaborate it will look like DNA sequencing while making mine look like three patterns of Garanimals characters. I know I’m going to curse under my breath like a sailor each time a project assignment comes home. I know the wonderfully laid out soccer and tutoring schedule balance will be shot to hell in three weeks, max. But all this can’t kill my buzz. I’m like those people who rack up New Years resolutions that they know are futile but doggedly make them each year.

I also just remembered that as if all that wasn’t enough, this Sunday, church school starts up again. So now we can sit and listen to the service without squirming kids forcing the most highly unchristian thoughts in our heads. September bonus!

It’s official, Mommy’s in her happy place… all week.