The auditorium is as I remember from my childhood. It's cramped, hot, and the really big old fans don't get turned on until the principal says it's okay.
Which she did. Which was a good thing because there were lots of pregnant women roasting in their seats. I was not one of them - but I was suffering from the effects of the odd 90 degree days we'd been experiencing.
Our son's teacher is a pro. We walk into room 124 and it's neat, orderly, and organized. We sit down at his desk. She begins to talk and adds that she hasn't asked the children to clean up their desks. She wants us instead to see exactly how the desks are kept.
This signals doom in our household. I put my hand in and several crayons and a white sock tumble out. She continues talking and says there should only be one or two pencils and their folders for poetry and weather, along with math and language arts journals. All other materials should be in the pencil boxes. Uh oh. I catch a crayon or two and the others hit the floor. The other parents in his cluster don't seem to be having the same problem.
The mother across the way pulls out a pencil box filled to capacity. Our boy's is filled with an unopened glue stick. Points for the boy - he kept the cap on! I move some things around without putting them away. And my hand hits an object I don't recognize. And then I do -- contraband. It's a red crayola crayon sharpener - and not on the school supply list. I recall at least two conversations about not bringing it to school.
It seems that all those pockets in his backpack have been used for something. The transportation and distribution of kid contraband. I leave it tucked in the back of the desk, where I found it.
The teacher goes over the curriculum, homework and thanks us for helping to start off every day on a high note. It's time to put the chairs back on top of the desks.
Back To School Night ends and I find myself hoping that our boy remembers this teacher the way I remember my first grade teacher. Room 10, Miss Geneva Hayes. Because she taught me to read, and I haven't stopped since.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
First Days of First Grade
Last Thursday marked our boy's official entrance into public school. Here's what we all learned.
While Mrs. Betty Murphy signed all correspondence with Mrs. Betty Murphy, she only wants to be called Mrs. Murphy. For a child who refers to his friends using all three names (First, Middle, Last)and is himself referred to by his friends as Firstname-Middleinitial-Lastname - this can be confusing.
Next - the class is divided into three supply lines. Rather like the military, I believe. Supply line two is responsible for Heavy Duty Tissues. Our supply line number two reported for duty with a jumbo box of 3-ply soft tissues. Supply lines one and three brought goldfish, cheerios or wheat crackers, and paper towels. Mrs. Murphy is grateful.
Finally - the end of the day and aftercare at the local Y. Right away - this is a disaster. Suzanne, our trusty sitter, makes the initial run with me so she knows where to go and the child care workers can see we all belong together. We spot him before he spots us. And Suzanne audibly inhales - the kind of sound that were it in a movie would signal misfortune for a main character.
He hates it and threatens the next day to jump off the bus and run away. I am once again wearing the crown of meanest mommy ever because I suggest that until we have something else worked out, this is the way it has to be.
In an effort to fix things I spoke with the head teacher, Miss Karisma. She told me that our boy had been fresh with her and she had corrected him following their discipline procedure. Hmmm.
She reported that she had told him "... I be doing this right now, you will need to wait." He replied "Miss Karisma, you are doing something right now and I need to wait a minute." She called it fresh and I tried to explain that he responded to her in the same way I did when he says "How much dollars is that?"... , how many dollars is the whatever-is-catching-his-eye-and-short-attention-span. He's 6, he doesn't understand nuance (and I never should have tried that word...) - we are not seeing eye-to-eye and I just want my money back for two months of care he will not be attending.
Oh dear. On the upside, he really liked P.E. and the class is beginning to chart the progress of the pilgrims on a timeline and map. He learned a new word - ballast - and he's class "inspector" for the next two weeks. The inspector checks to make sure the lights are turned out and the window shades are at "mid". Which I'm guessing is midpoint.
He is also intrigued/repelled by a game called Girl Run - which means girls chase boys around the playground. It's a game that hasn't been banned - like dodge ball.
While Mrs. Betty Murphy signed all correspondence with Mrs. Betty Murphy, she only wants to be called Mrs. Murphy. For a child who refers to his friends using all three names (First, Middle, Last)and is himself referred to by his friends as Firstname-Middleinitial-Lastname - this can be confusing.
Next - the class is divided into three supply lines. Rather like the military, I believe. Supply line two is responsible for Heavy Duty Tissues. Our supply line number two reported for duty with a jumbo box of 3-ply soft tissues. Supply lines one and three brought goldfish, cheerios or wheat crackers, and paper towels. Mrs. Murphy is grateful.
Finally - the end of the day and aftercare at the local Y. Right away - this is a disaster. Suzanne, our trusty sitter, makes the initial run with me so she knows where to go and the child care workers can see we all belong together. We spot him before he spots us. And Suzanne audibly inhales - the kind of sound that were it in a movie would signal misfortune for a main character.
He hates it and threatens the next day to jump off the bus and run away. I am once again wearing the crown of meanest mommy ever because I suggest that until we have something else worked out, this is the way it has to be.
In an effort to fix things I spoke with the head teacher, Miss Karisma. She told me that our boy had been fresh with her and she had corrected him following their discipline procedure. Hmmm.
She reported that she had told him "... I be doing this right now, you will need to wait." He replied "Miss Karisma, you are doing something right now and I need to wait a minute." She called it fresh and I tried to explain that he responded to her in the same way I did when he says "How much dollars is that?"... , how many dollars is the whatever-is-catching-his-eye-and-short-attention-span. He's 6, he doesn't understand nuance (and I never should have tried that word...) - we are not seeing eye-to-eye and I just want my money back for two months of care he will not be attending.
Oh dear. On the upside, he really liked P.E. and the class is beginning to chart the progress of the pilgrims on a timeline and map. He learned a new word - ballast - and he's class "inspector" for the next two weeks. The inspector checks to make sure the lights are turned out and the window shades are at "mid". Which I'm guessing is midpoint.
He is also intrigued/repelled by a game called Girl Run - which means girls chase boys around the playground. It's a game that hasn't been banned - like dodge ball.
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