Do Not Pass Happyteachersburg. Do Not Collect Teacher’s Congratulations On Raising A Fabulous Kid.
Parent’s evening. What can I say, I feel like I’ve gone back in time to five years ago. The butterflies that had taken up residence in my midsection obviously knew something I didn’t. Damien dropped a bombshell his morning and I had not yet recovered from the one his teacher so politely delivered- quietly and letter bomb like- last night. Once again I was confronted (maybe not the right word ‘coz she was really nice) with a teacher who no longer knows what to do. What I would really like to know is why she waited till September to tell me anything, but that’s another story. His behaviour is not the problem- on Ritalin, Damien is impeccably well behaved. He doesn’t disrupt class, talk out of turn, walk around, giggle incessantly, or even throw things. His assessments are good- they always are. He is perfectly capable of doing the things he is supposed to do. But his report looks like, um, like, I dunno what. It doesn’t fit what his assessments say he is able to do. And why? Because he doesn’t bloody finish any of his work! And she says he doesn’t do his homework. I swear he must be hiding his books or something because when I sign his homework diary he swears it’s all done. And I stopped going through all his books everyday LOOKING for incomplete work because the resulting arguments made him and I both miserable, and “they” (all the books and experts and therapists) said he must learn some responsibility. Math is a problem (always has been) and Damien hates it. We’ve done the KUMON thing, the extra classes thing, the begging and the bribing- but he long ago decided he can’t do it. As for English- he likes it, he even reads for fun, but he doesn’t do the work. So what does he do in class? I hear you ask. Well I am 90% sure he doesn’t have any toys, because I go through his suitcase to look for toys that he’s not supposed to take to school. So when he’s in class- he makes his own toys. He builds exquisite airplanes out of ice cream sticks. He makes robots and monsters out of Tazos (those little metal discs you get in chip packets). He covers his worksheets in detailed drawings. But he doesn’t do the work. Now I ask you with tears in my baby blue eyes- why the he’ll am I working my substantial backside off to pay over 3K a month on school and aftercare fees. That’s right- I said OVER 3K! Much more even than my rent! I coulda bought a house people! Now, AGAIN, we have to start going over all his books at night- after work, after school and after aftercare- so we can finish what he hasn’t done yet. It was all I could do not to scream all the way home in the car. And then I fell of the mommy wagon and promptly went and did and said almost EVERYTHING that the parenting course I have almost completed says NOT to do!
Lord, give me strength!