I can’t begin to tell you how surprised I was to discover that the high school’s Back to School Night, scheduled on Valentine’s Day, was not very well attended.
A few observations on last night’s event (in no particular order):
A proud moment: one teacher stood at the classroom door, greeting parents and asking the name of their child. She smiled when we named Middle Sister, said she was a joy in the classroom, and mentioned that she has been very conscientious about adding to the “prayer intentions” blackboard in the front of the room.
I love that teachers have “prayer intentions” blackboards and encourage the students to use them. (This was NOT a religion teacher, by the way.) Things like that are the reason we send our kids to Catholic schools.
And I love that my daughter is using that board.
It’s a good thing Middle Sister runs track, because her classes are just about as far apart as they possibly could be while still being in the same building.
We ran into lots of people we know as we passed each other in the long hallways. All the parents got in plenty of cardio last night as we rushed from class to class. Some were too out of breath to do more than wave.
Moms, in general, walk a lot faster than dads. Case in point: we left the French classroom at the same time as another couple we’ve known for about 15 years. We moms left the dads in the dust as we all headed to Bio, and the dads could be heard behind us, “They say we walk too slow. I say they walk too fast.” Note to the dads (including my husband): there is no such thing was “walking too fast.” You walk way too slow.
The principal wished us a happy Valentine’s Day at least three times during the opening remarks. Overcompensating for a bad scheduling decision, perhaps? There were no apologies for the bad scheduling–which would have been welcome.
I’m convinced that one of my daughter’s teachers has ADD. Yikes.
Another teacher was a bit distracted because she could hear her kids, who were hanging around in the office across the hall from her classroom. It was Valentine’s Day. She couldn’t get a babysitter–not even her own college-age daughter. We commiserated with her. (And really, her kids were not bad at all, just a bit giggly, and if a Catholic school can’t be family-friendly and tolerate the presence of a couple of kids around Little Brother’s age, then shame on them.)
One teacher made us laugh by faulting the administration for not, at least, serving us pink lemonade on Valentine’s Day.