My Pleasure

I had the pleasure of helping to serve dinner to 150 students, staff members, and future students at Middle Sister’s high school tonight. Along with about 12 other parents and grandparents, I made iced tea, kept the baked ziti and meatballs hot, set up the dessert tray and spooned out salad.

The kids made it all worthwhile. Not one went through the line without thanking us many times over: for handing them a cup of iced tea or water, for extra scoops of baked ziti, for the delicious meal. Some kids even came back through the line to compliment the parents on the dinner. And before they all headed to the auditorium for rehearsal, they gave us a standing ovation.

The kids were happy, polite, and friendly. Truly a credit to the school–and their parents.

Grace Before Meals

I’m a big fan of Father Leo Patalinghug’s website and his cookbook (worth the purchase price to get that “secret” fajita recipe).

I have the feeling that someone at my daughter’s high school has also been influenced by Father Leo. Either that, or great minds think alike.

Tonight is the first night of “Tech Week” as the kids get ready for the spring musical. For seven nights of “Tech Week” (each weekday this week, as well as Monday & Tuesday of next week), a group of parents will arrive at school at 4 PM to cook and serve dinner to the 150 students participating in the play, stage crew and orchestra. It’s a way to make sure that these very busy kids get a good meal before rehearsal, rather than a fast-food sandwich. But it’s also a way to help the kids bond as they work toward a common goal.

I’ll be there to cook, serve and clean up on four of the seven nights, and I’m really looking forward to it. I think this will be a wonderful experience for all the “play kids”–and the parents as well.

And when the play is over, I’ll look forward to having the whole family back around my dining-room table again. But if the kids can’t be here, I’m glad they’ll be there.

Substitution

I was a substitute teacher today. I’ve done this several times this school year. I only sub for the school librarian (so far) which is fine with me. I know the routine, and I only have any particular group of kids for 30 to 45 minutes at a time.

Twice this year, I have had the fourth and fifth graders come through the library during my sub time. They share two teachers who have divided up the subject areas between them. Each time, the same teacher is dropping the kids off. When she leaves, she gets this concerned look on her face and asks me, “Will you be all right?”

(I’m sure she’s unaware that I am a certified teacher with a Master’s degree, but I’m still a little insulted).

After the first time I taught these two groups I had the kids’ number. And we’ve done just fine, thankyouverymuch. They’re not bad. They’re just 10- and 11-year-olds.

And each time the teacher comes back to pick up the kids, she’s surprised that they’re being good. This afternoon when she retrieved the fifth graders, she was amazed to find them sitting at tables, all reading their library books quietly.

I guess I’m wondering if I should be insulted by all this. She doesn’t seem to think I am capable of handling these classes, though I have proven otherwise. Or am I just paranoid?

First, Cause No Panic

This morning the kids at Little Brother’s school attended Mass. He likes it when I go to the school Masses, so I do that when I can. Even though it means an extra half-hour out of my day (I go to daily Mass, but with no music and only 50 communicants, as opposed to 250+, it goes more quickly).

It’s a good thing I was there today.

Had I not been there, I’d have missed the extremely cute sight of the kindergarten classes processing in, before the priest, while everyone sang “O Come All Ye Faithful.” Each little student wore a homemade crown and carried a picture of a present, that he had colored himself. As the kids walked to the front of the church, they placed these presents in front of the Nativity scene. SO cute!

Had I not been there, I’d have missed a very interesting homily by a priest who has been living his vocation for over 50 years.

Had I not been there, I would have been sitting in another church, with my cell phone off, basically unreachable. And that would have been a bad thing, because Little Brother fainted sometime between the “Holy Holy” and the Memorial Acclamation.

I saw some teachers rushing toward the choir area (up front, in an alcove near the altar). Another teacher was running up the center aisle. She saw me and mouthed Little Brother’s name. I grabbed my coat and handbag and rushed out of the pew, just as the Phys. Ed. teacher led Little Brother out the door that adjoins the choir area.

I took off for the main church exit, which was closer, then ran through the school hallway and let them in through the side door as the teacher was waving at the nurse’s office window, trying to get her attention, so she could have someone open the door. Everyone else was in church.

The teacher was supporting Little Brother as I opened the door. I took him from there as she said, “Oh, you’re here! That’s good!” Then I led him slowly to the nurse’s office. We sat him down on a chair, but his pale face and weak expression convinced me that he needed to lie down. So I asked her if he could rest on the cot in the office.

He didn’t have a fever, but I was definitely taking him home, so I left them there while I ran upstairs to his classroom to find his coat and backpack. His teacher was in the nurse’s office when I returned, and she teased me about stopping my kids from doing things like this (she’s the one who jumped over pews when Middle Sister passed out in church a couple of years ago.)

For the record, we’re now three for three as far as fainting in church. No surprise there; I used to do that myself, as did my dad, my mom, and my uncle. The kids come by this honestly.

Anyway, the nurse started speculating on what could be wrong with Little Brother that caused him to faint. After I detailed the breakfast he’d eaten (two slices of French toast and four slices of regular toast) she figured it wasn’t that.

“It might be the flu,” she commented. “When you were upstairs he said that his throat hurts. That’s how this flu starts, with a sore throat. You know, three people in Pennsylvania have died from the flu already this year.”

I was hoping Little Brother wasn’t paying attention, but I hoped wrong. He’s eight years old and very smart. His ears work just fine, even when the rest of him isn’t feeling so great at the moment. And she was sitting right there at the foot of the little cot he was lying on.

In the car, on the way home, he wondered if he might have the flu. He mentioned that people died from the flu. I spent the rest of the ride reassuring him that he’s fine and that he won’t be dying anytime soon.

His temp did hit 99 in the late afternoon, though he had no fever this morning. But his appetite’s been great. He ate the entire contents of his lunchbox before 11:30, and plowed his way through a big bowl of strawberries, two Pop-Tarts, and a lot of saltines before eating two helpings of spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.

I am more than pleased by how quickly the teachers acted when they noticed Little Brother’s distress, and the concern they showed. But the nurse’s bedside manner leaves much to be desired. Did she really need to scare a little boy who was probably plenty scared already about what had just happened? Did she need to suggest that he might have an illness that causes people to die?

Grade-School Drama

…of the cutest kind.

The primary grades at Little Brother’s school put on their Christmas play tonight. It’s always a “play within a play” in which something happens that might prevent the Christmas pageant.

This year Little Brother played the Grinch/Scrooge character–actually a politician more concerned with getting votes than with the Christmas story. He wore a suit–and a “red power tie.” And a top hat. My big kids said he was “totally a boss.” He had some great one-liners in his part and nailed the comic timing.

The rest of the play was enjoyable because it was a primary-school Christmas play. That means it came complete with:
–can-can dancers that danced in opposite directions and sometimes kicked each other
–battery-operated candles, some of which did not light
–two kids on the top riser that nearly came to blows
–dueling verses of the same Christmas carol (kids were apparently confused about whether to sing verse 2 or verse 3. Both were going at once.)
–hippies, and a “rich couple” named Thurston and Lovey. The kids didn’t get that joke.
–two kids who spoke in a strange accent (but who don’t in real life.)
–lots of adorable off-key singing
–and a light-up star.

The first, second, and third graders did a great job. The play was lots of fun to watch–and the prelude by the pre-K and kindergarten was nothing short of adorable. Little kids + carols + reindeer headgear = completely cute.

Shakespearean

Middle Sister’s been studying Romeo and Juliet in her English class. Her take: Juliet is desperate, and the guys are stalkers.

I’d love to be a fly on the wall during that class discussion.

It’s a Helicopter World

Ever since I have had children in school, I’ve refused to do their homework. My theory is, I’ve been to school. I did my homework. Now it’s their turn.

My role is limited (by me) to purchasing necessary supplies, motivational nagging, withholding of video-game privileges and enforcement of deadlines, as well as occasional Typesetting Tech Support for kids old enough to use computers for projects. Oh yeah–no one without “teen” in their age is allowed to touch the hot-glue gun.

It was disheartening, but not surprising, to see the near-professional-quality “book reports in a box” that Little Brother’s 3rd-grade class produced last week. This was some snazzy work that those 8-year-olds did, let me tell you.

Fortunately, Little Brother’s teacher is also a parent. She wasn’t swayed by flawless gluing and other superficials. A project by a third-grade boy is necessarily going to be less than gorgeous in quality. A couple of decorative bits might even fall off on the school bus on the way to school. Little Brother got a 100 on his obviously-homemade-by-a-3rd-grader project.

Those same parents who do their grade-school kids’ book reports and science fair presentation boards move on to high school, where they are overheard saying things like this at report-card conferences: “I’ve seen all my kid’s teachers. I think I’ll go stand in line for the 4 teachers he’ll have next semester and get to know them.” (I’d love to see the face of the teachers when this guy tries that. It’s what Back-to-School Night is all about, after all. Not report-card conferences for parents of current students.)

Well Worth It

It’s All Saints Day, and although the “Holy day of Obligation” was commuted in our diocese to Sunday, Middle Sister’s school celebrated the feast day with a Mass this morning.

Little Brother’s school celebrated with a prayer service this afternoon. They’re having Mass later this week as well, in remembrance of the school’s patron saint on Thursday.

So I’m a good bit off-schedule today. I attended both the Mass and the prayer service, which I would have skipped, but Little Brother’s class was in charge of it and he had a big chunk of the Litany of Saints to read.

I’m glad I went to that prayer service, because I was very impressed by the deacon’s reminders to the children that all of us are “saints in training.” The kids were asked to think about ways they could be better family members, students, friends and teammates–all in the name of “what would the saints do?”

Magic School Bus

In my experience, it’s never good when you pick up the phone in the middle of the school day and hear your third-grader’s voice saying, “Hi, Mom!”

Instantly, the Maternal Worry Radar starts. What could it be? Bellyache? Another Head Lice False Alarm?

“What’s the matter, buddy?”

“There’s no choir today.”

(pause)

“I didn’t know there was choir today.”

(pause)

“There isn’t.”

“OK, I guess I’ll see you at the bus stop then! Love you, buddy!”

“Bye, mom.”

I’m thinking he was fishing for a car ride home, but oh well…my tax dollars are paying for school buses for my two school-aged children and only one of them has been getting a bus ride this week*, so the one who does have a bus to ride is going to ride the thing!

(For some reason, the Transportation Office of our public school district can’t get it together and send Middle Sister’s bus. She is freaking out–she’s a freshman, and the bus is not coming each morning, and she’s standing out there for 30 minutes waiting for it. Yesterday’s excuse was, “We thought her school started on Thursday!” Well, today’s Thursday, and there was still no bus. And I couldn’t call to complain, because the office is closed for the Jewish holiday.)

When I Become Principal

Not in this lifetime, but for the purposes of this rant…

I spent about an hour after Little Brother got home from school today dealing with all the paper he brought home. Not to mention all the stuff that was on the website that I had to print out, fill in and send back–and the $73 in checks that had to go in as well.

But I digress. I’m here to rant about forms.

I had to fill in a whole bunch of forms today. That in itself is not so bad, but it’s all the duplication that gets me. That, and having to write my last name multiple times.

Wouldn’t it be easier, since almost all of this paper is going to live in the main office anyway, if there were one form with several sections instead of separate forms for all of these:

Basic Information Form (name, address, phone, email, student day of birth, parents’ work and cell phones, 2 emergency contacts, bus number, parish & sacrament information, doctor’s name, hospital preference, insurance company number, special health considerations, signature)

Nurse’s Information Form (name, address, phone, parents’ work & cell phones, “which parent do we call first,” 2 emergency contacts, doctor’s name, special health considerations, “has your child received immunizations this past year”)–note that all but 2 of these are covered in the Basic Information Form

Family Directory Form (name, address, phone, email, “do you want to be in the directory”)

Permission to use child’s photo on school website or in newspaper articles/ads

Technology Acceptable Use Policy

My last name is 12 letters long, with lots of pesky consonants. I have the feeling that if school administrators had a last name like mine, they’d be less likely to require all these separate forms with separate signatures.

Hello, new school year! Hello, writer’s cramp!