17 November 2010

Here we go again....

If you were here a couple of years ago, you remember my introduction to the public school system after an extended absence. The Nice Kid had been there a couple of weeks when I got a letter, explaining to me that I had not been sending written excuses for my child's absences.

Well, DUH. I'm the one who DIDN'T write them. No need for you to point it out.

So I threw it away. Threw the next one, and possibly a third, away, too. I AM THE PARENT. I don't have to tell you where my child is...what is this? Big Brother? Unless she's in trouble or offending you or breaking some rules, your only concern is her education. Don't be sending The Mama letters!

Then, they sent...something. I think it was a summons to a parenting court, for me to explain where my child had been. BACK TO MY ORIGINAL POINT: I KNOW where my child has been. I. AM. THE. PARENT. When I consider it necessary for YOU to know? I'll let you in on the secret but in the meantime...don't be stalking my child.

Anyway, threw THAT in the trash, too. I mean, they couldn't be talking to ME. No one had called, and they sure as hell had no problem calling when they needed nine cakes, or a vegetable tray, or someone to drive to an out-of-town school event. And besides...this is ME. The child of educators...teacher, assistant principal, librarian, superintendent, school board president. ME. The kid who has witnessed everything there is to be seen...firsthand.

Then came a summons to Parenting Class. For a fee, payable by me, I was to show up on the other side of town on Monday nights for a couple of weeks for parenting classes.

PARENTING CLASSES? I've been raising kids for THIRTY YEARS next Monday, haven't killed one yet and accidentally ended up doing it for a career and you want me to do WHAT?????

I called the District Attorney, a fellow school parent and a frequent guest at our family parties. I called the family court judge, who grew up with The Big Boy, playing Little League and Boy Scouts. Who was one of my dad's students, and who had married one of my mom's students.

Neither one did anything for two days, which is how long it took for them to stop rolling around on the floor laughing. Then, the juvenile court guy called and apologized. He explained some things. He laughed at my letter, and then laughed at my indignation and my predicament. He explained that there were even less-appropriate parents in my position. I probably offered to make him a strawberry cake, or might have invited him to my 19th Annual Gingerbread House Party. Or to a Blood Drive in my yard, or a yard sale I was hosting for a family who had lost everything in a fire. You know...all the things Menaces to Society such as myself do.

It ended well. Never heard from them again. Kept being the person who never volunteers for anything, who everyone calls at the last minute. The parent with "sucker" written across her forehead.

TNK left middle school last year. Started high school this fall.

Guess what I got in the mail this week?

An aside here...no...a possible ending. For years, while my dad was chairman of the county board of education, he wrote a newsletter. Primarily reporting the board's agenda, rulings and business. Spiked with his own opinions, which weren't necessarily those of the mainstream. The mainstream did EVERYTHING it could to stop that newsletter; one of the greatest quotes of all time was an assistant superintendent pointing out that the board could have gone to Las Vegas for a convention, except my dad would put it in the newsletter and people would know. He was even hauled into court once, for using a school copier to print the newsletter, even though he paid the school enough to print its tests and worksheets. He bought a copier and kept writing.

He retired a couple of years ago. Really has nothing to do. Been looking for a cause.

Life would be REALLY interesting if someone showed him what "blogging" is. As opposed to mailouts.

Just IMAGINE the possibilities!!

6 comments:

Expat From Hell said...

Writing excuse letters is a parental obligation. It gives the aspiring student something to strive for in future crisis situations: the development of the ability to perfectly copy his mother's writing style. I often wondered about this strange law, too. While spending another weekday at the beach. EFH

Donna in AL said...

My mother always worked when I was in high school (70s). I made straight A's. She did not care if I stayed home or went shopping, so I never really skipped school. When I told her I needed a note, she would just say write one and sign her name.... done. Maybe you need to tell your daughters that too.... done.

City Girl said...

I think you should write excuse letters. On custom stationary. With a header that reads:

From the Desk of Mind Your Own Fucking Business.

Comet Girl said...

Fight the establishment! We shall over come!
I really feel sorry for them. They know not what they do or with whom they mess.

Country Girl said...

Well, all my kids can sign my name by the time they can sign their's. They'll only misuse it once, and after hell stops raining down on them, they'll realize how convenient it was. So far, they've realized this. But the final straw here is that I DID send emails, which they can print out...and the school's spam filter blocked me every time. I have since PRINTED all the Mail Demon's rude messages, as proof that I TRIED. And YOU, dear school system, whose salary MY taxes pay, do NOT get to dictate the manner in which I communicate with you. Because private school always beckons...

City Girl said...

They block you because of the AOL account.

It had to be said.