Yesterday was a parent-teacher conference day in our Catholic elementary school. I have two left there, my daughter in second and my middle son in eighth. I knew my daughter’s would be smooth sailing, and it was. She is a girl, after all. And girls are smarter than boys. There, I said it. I have two boys and one girl. The boys are a constant struggle in school. The girl… easy peasy lemon squeezy.
And then there was my son’s conference. <crickets chirping>
Let’s just say this. You know it is going to be interesting when a second teacher walks in unexpectedly. And then a third. And then…. THE NUN. Dun Dun DUUUUHHHNNNNNNNNN.
Yes, in walks the principal. A nun over six feet tall who was raised with twelve brothers. A loud nun, as self described. A nun who will never begin to appreciate the uniqueness that is my son. (Notice the mom claws coming out, if only for a second.)
Just as he did last year, my son began the year with a “Oh wait, this is school?” attitude. He racked up 12 demerits in a month and was ordered up an “after school detention.” His first month always involves an unplugged brain. But then you yank his tail and voila, last year, the honor roll second semester.
So this year, again – yank yank on the tail. He is already doing better. But two classes are n-o-t g-o-o-d. Can I throw out the D word here? He will get them up. He can get back on track, and is already doing so. But for twenty minutes he got to hear a Michael Bashing. By three teachers and a Nun.
I had no problem with that. The boy needs to learn that if you don’t work in school, you are going to hear about it. He is smart and can easily get those grades up, and WILL get those grades up. Sometimes it is nice to be able to sit back and let OTHERS fuss at your child. I’m all for that if it is deserved. And it was.
But then it went on. And on. And on. Hellooooo…. We get the POINT here. A teenage boy will listen and comprehend for only a few minutes. These teachers should know that. Say what you need to say without a rinse and repeat. And repeat. And repeat.
Then, to top it all off, his (known for being evil) homeroom teacher said, “And Michael, when you go to talk to a teacher, do NOT smirk like that. ‘WE’ hate it.” We? Who is this we, white man? Do you mean YOU hate it? Does Michael have one up on you? His little smirk? I had to chime in then. Enough is enough. “Actually…. Michael has always smirked when he is nervous. It is just what and who he is. He has done it since he was little. If he is nervous, he is going to smirk.”
And you know what? I do the same thing. I can’t fake people out. I smirk. I try to stop and that stupid grin spreads on my face. Never use me in a practical joke. I’ll give it away in a minute. With a smirk. If I’m about to cry, I smirk. If I’m nervous, I smirk. And so does my son. We are a family of “The Smirk.” And apparently TEACHERS HATE THAT. <smirk>
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Oh yes hate that!! We have never dealt with nuns, but with Taeachers who have that same stereotypical mentality. Our daughter has always gotten good comments from Teachers, until last year. There was nothing our daughter could do that she didnt write her up for. She even went so far in between classes one day dragging her feet on getting something to her. She told her, your going to be late to class and I don’t get if you get in trouble for it because I am not writing you a pass… Needless to say, I got her switched from that class. Needless to say, once again rave reviews about what a good girl Sabrina is… (Smirk)