If you wanna feel better about your family, just read about ours...

Starring: a dad, a mom, a son & daughter-in-law, a daughter & son-in-law, a teen, a tween, 1 grandson, 3 granddaughters, 3 dogs, and a whole lot of love.

Family Story Pic

Family Story Pic


Monday, March 19, 2018

School Mom

Let me give you a brief run down of who I am...and who I'm not. I'm not the "tiger mom" who hammers education into her kids with an iron fist.

No. I'm the mom who says things like, "You're amazing!" and "Nice try!" and "C's look good on the refrigerator too!" I've also been known to say, "Who the crappety crap assigned a freakin science fair??" and "Go find that one in the barn that dad made for Zac 12 years ago." And when it comes to missing school for family vacations, my own personal motto is this: "School is temporary. Family is forever."

Fear not. Ron has prevented all 4 of our kids from becoming morons. It's called balance.

So about a month ago, when the high school principal pulled Ron and me aside at a basketball game and told me I'd been chosen to become "A Student For A Day," I wondered what the heck they're smokin' over there. Either I'm being punked or they got the wrong person. Then she looked me in the eye and stressed the importance of me following the dress code and I knew they had the right person. Ron piped up and volunteered me to ride the bus for "the full experience." Chuckles really needs to learn how to zip it.

I hated school. Like, seriously. I showed up for cheerleading and made good enough grades to allow me to be eligible for cheerleading. Because, cheerleading.

So maybe the learning part wasn't my thing, but I immediately told her yes, because writing. How could I not jump at this opportunity to return to my youth for a day? Have I learned anything? Would it be much different? These are things I need to know. These are things I need to write.

There will be 8 parents acting as students for the day, spread throughout the various grade levels. I wasn't immediately told which grade I'd be assigned, so these past few weeks, I've been speculating various scenarios with some experts...2 of my daughters. Kearstin is a senior and Caymen is a 5th grader and they've been schooling me, you might say. Like a good student, I took notes.
Here's a little of what they had to say.

Kearstin: "Plank Time is study hall. You don't actually plank."
(Damn, the one thing I've been training for.)
Caymen: "4th grade and below, you might be able to make some friends. 7th grade and above, you'll probably be bullied."
Kearstin: "No, I don't think she'd get bullied in high school."
Caymen: "What about 7th and 8th?"
Kearstin: "Yeah, she'd probably get bullied there."
(Hello...I can hear you.)
Caymen: "Remember, you get suspended if you fight."
Kearstin: "And at your age, a restraining order and maybe some jail time."
(So I'm the one getting bullied AND a rap sheet? NOT.FAIR.)
Caymen: "You only have 3 minutes to change classes."
(Ok, it takes me at least 3 minutes to empty my bladder, not even counting pulling my jeans back up.)
Kearstin: "Pretty much everything you wear on a daily basis violates the dress code."
(Probably explains the principal's warning.)
Caymen: "Remember when you couldn't open my locker at open house so you kicked it? You can't do that."
Kearstin: "You can't cuss, either. Or take coffee to class."
Caymen: "And they might make you take band."
(And yet I can't cuss. What the crap kind of sick experiment am I walking into here?)

Ron, on the other hand, fears a possible 'Channing Tatum, 21 Jump Street Part I' situation and I was given strict rules that I'm not allowed to accept invites to any parties. WhatEVER. Dad.

So today I'm one-strapping my backpack and returning to school. I'll report to the office at 7:30am, get my locker number and schedule, and then be thrown into a day in the life of a 7th grader.

I'm ready. I've got my orders. All I have to do is get through the day without cussing, fighting, kicking my locker, being late to class, peeing my pants, getting detention, suspended, accidentally stumbling into a drug ring, or sent to the office and having to choose from the selection of men's clothing in "the dress code violator's box of shame."

So this is where I'll leave you for now, assuming there will be a Part II to this little escapade. I mean, I'm a 46 year old pms-ing, coffee-drinking zumba instructor spending an entire day as a caffeine-free 7th grader. How could there not be a Part II?

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