Flutterbys

Today while hiding out in the speech room, I got to watch one of the speech teachers working with Ms. I Cut My Own Hair. They were working on her ability to hear a variety of descriptors about a picture then be able to guess what the noun was being described. After a few rounds, Ms. I Cut My Own Hair wanted to let the teacher guess while she determined the descriptors.

Speech Teacher: "Ok, Ms. I Cut My Own Hair. Here is a card. I'm ready for a clue."

Ms. I Cut My Own Hair: "Say butterfly."

Speech Teacher: "Remember, Ms. I Cut My Own Hair, you are supposed to give me a clue to see if I can guess what is on the card."

Ms. I Cut My Own Hair (louder now): "Say butterfly."

Speech Teacher (trying not to laugh): "Maybe you could say something like 'It has wings' or 'It likes flowers.' Don't just tell me what it is."

Ms. I Cut My Own Hair (giving the teacher the stink eye): "SAY BUTTERFLY!"

Speech Teacher (about to wet her pants because of holding in the laughter): "Butterfly."

Ms. I Cut My Own Hair (nodding in approval): "Vedy good. Sometimes you are stubborn."

Do you think maybe she has heard something about being stubborn before?

And we can add to my title this - Cry Baby

It sucked to be me today. I had to tell the last hire she was being moved to another school for the next school term. I cried. She cried. I cried some more. She really is that good of a teacher. You guys would totally want her for your Kindergarten student.

Due to budget cuts, my school is losing four teaching positions. Only one volunteered to leave and one is retiring. The good news is no one in my system is losing a job. But there are a few being moved to other schools in the system. And I had to break one heart today.

Damn economy.

Just when I thought it was safe to go into the water

Drama is huge part of elementary school and we aren't talking about the plays. From what the middle and high school principals say, the drama is worse in elementary schools than any where else.


I say, what the heck did you expect with a building full of women because what we really need is more testosterone.

The first act of the day starred a student teacher and her mentor teacher. Supporting roles were played by a couple of college professors and myself. In the final scene, the student teacher was dramatically driven away from the school by one of the college professors. While it was a sad conclusion for the college student, the remaining characters were hopeful that she would one day be cast in another play with a happier ending like possibly an ending where the student teacher could learn to converse nicely with others.

The next act was a scene out of an Emergency Room. The screaming and running that resulted from a teacher who was choking because thank God she was a well loved teacher or there might have been apathy and starring ended in fits of laughter and tears when the school nurse announced, "This was just a practice drill." The emotions from the audience ranged from relief to disbelief to rage irritation. The audience was especially relieved that this drill was called off before the defibrillator was activated. Stay tuned for this exciting conclusion involving the school nurse, tar, and feathers.

As the emotions of the day were building, the next scene takes us to the disaster of an office of the principal where she was talking to the head cheese Superintendent about which teacher was going to be moved. Tears fell like wine were choked back as the biggest disappointment of the day came to light because why, oh why can't the difficult teachers ever be the ones yanked?. And why is it not kosher to portray the principal in a sobbing stance?

In the final scene, the administrator was the lone character leaving the awards banquet with a somber look of quiet desperation clearly headed for the liquor cabinet. The audience is left wondering if the situation will get better.

The girl makes him smile

It was Mr. Funny's prom this past weekend. I made him suffer pose for a few pictures.

You would have thought I had asked him for his left leg (Which is weird because what would I do with a leg? And is it his left or my left? That part always confuses me.).

It would be safe to say Mr. Funny doesn't like having his picture taken.















However, once he got to the girl's house, he was all smiles.


Should I be worried?

Directionality

Directionality is a funny thing. For one it has a couple of definitions that come to mind. One deals with the idea of focusing the direction of your life, your business, and/or your projects (not Websters definition so don't hold me accountable for getting it wrong). This type of directionality deals with setting goals. For the *experts* out there, we should all figure out the direction we want life to take, set goals, and work to meet those goals. For many, that may be exactly what needs to happen otherwise they might waste their life away on the sofa watching VH-1 reality tv shows. In my opinion, it is difficult to imagine anyone being able to be an expert of some one's life besides their own but that is going into deep, uncharted territory and we are backing the hell out. Besides, I'm not a goal setter which probably explains how I ended up in administration in the first place.

The other definition of directionality (in my mind) has to do with locating sound. And for the record, I can NOT locate the source of sound which I am sure helps my image of being a complete doofus since there are multiple microphones on each of my hearing aids. I now spin like a record when ever I hear any noises. No wonder I'm always dizzy. People would be better off just waving their arms wildly if they need to get my attention.

But I'm not hear here to talk about my hearing issues because really it is only an issue for the person who wants to be heard as I'm quite content with the voices in my hear that I hear so clearly.

Its about my blog. When I first started blogging, I had no sense of direction. Basically, the G-P-S was turned off and we were navigating by the A-S-S (that would be me). My very first blog post was rather lame and I expected no fanfare for the ridiculousness that I was sending out into the blogosphere. But I got a comment from Vodka Mom. And she became a follower.

She probably has no idea what she did for my blog-o-confidence that day.

And now, something has happened. And in my imagination, it is something that is a result of a parent or teacher complaint to administration (damn administrators!).

Which scares me. And I've stepped away from the computer for the past few days to ponder the pros and cons, the reasons to oppose and the reasons to support, the should I's or should I nots. Basically, is it worth it?

I've tried to keep my "real girl" identity a secret. I've changed names of the guilty innocent to protect them. And I haven't even told the juicy stories involving ridiculous law suits because if you don't think there are people out there who want a free ride, then I have a spot of the ocean I need to sell you.

While writing this blog, I've found a voice I didn't know I had. And I've found friends I never dreamed I'd have. My husband and I are closer and talk about more and more things (he is, by the way, my biggest commentor on this blog - he just rarely puts it in writing). I've come to grips with some emotions regarding my family. For whatever reason, it is easier to be honest in this forum than in my reality.

While I've yet to become a goal setter as it just isn't my nature and why the hell fight nature, I've made the decision to forge on. Besides, Jane at Gaston Studios offered me a spare bedroom in her house and Michel offered to hide me in Sudan, if ever I need. Without a doubt, I'm sure Smart Mouth Broad and her Harley Man would drive that Harley up to beat up rescue me from any crazy parents. And several of my favorite teachers (I wish I had you guys on my staff) are always ready to offer up encouragement and support. Thanks Only a Movie, Pseudononymous High School Teacher, Amy, Jason, and Hit 40. You often validate my feelings. And then there are my friends who cook! Jan and Follow that Dog, you remind me to be thankful for being married to a chef! The Comedy Goddess knows my neck of the woods (and there are a lot of woods down here) and that just makes her even funnier to me! Oh, and Kulio is teaching me to be a bit greener (and I do appreciate that!). And I should be supporting Braja while she is recovering but she is already out supporting others. She is just tough like that. And the list goes on and on.

How could I give up on friends like that?

If you try hard enough, you can always find the silver lining

Sometimes people who work in education become very focused on the *bad* things that happen. Their reaction to the bad is to become more stressed. If only they'd learn to focus on the positives.

For instance, no need to get overwhelmed when a detective comes to the school to talk to a student about an incident that took place in the neighborhood. If you'd just look on the bright side, you'd realize the thug kid is smarter than you thought because he didn't get caught is innocent!

And when a parent comes to tour the school with their upcoming Kindergarten student, don't worry when the potential student freaks out is puzzled by the girth of the pregnant teacher walking down the hall. What a great opportunity for a little biology lesson because the child guessed closer than the mother's explanation by guessing that the baby would come out of the lady's butt.

And if a student is sent to your office BEFORE the big state test because his mother says he is faking being sick and you tell him that he has to show us the chunks before we will indeed send his butt home, it is a great opportunity to discuss the importance of being honest. That child will appreciate the valuable lesson he has learned especially when he proves his mother wrong by indeed blowing chunks all over the room, including good coverage of the test.

As for me, all the events of this week have been appreciated over a box glass of wine. Which will help me get the three or four sleep I so desperately need.

Just another typical first day of testing

If they'd make me the queen of the education world, I'd do away with high stakes testing in elementary school. Seriously, haven't any of the big wigs ever read the book Leo the Late Bloomer? I'm a firm believer in the fact that some kids just have their jello moment later than others although I have met some adults who still haven't gelled in their ability to think.

Regardless of my opinions, the tests are designed to judge measure the progress of the teachers students so opinions with the help of the negative comments from the local rag can be formed about the dedication of the teachers in a school.

Yesterday was the first day of *the* test. And it was a typical first day of testing kind of day with enough stress to make one reconsider becoming a fry girl.

We got to school and the power was out probably due to some stressed out teacher running into a utility pole to dull the pain. Since the testing manual doesn't advise us to give the test in the dark, we delayed the test until the power was restored.

We had three kids throwing up. Awards went to two of the teachers who were able to get their barfing boys to a trash can. The third teacher got to laugh at us while we transferred answers from the soiled test to a fresh copy which worked better than a diet pill to kill my appetite for lunch.

One child in the fourth grade got so nervous, she wet her pants. Thankfully, the test remained on high ground.

Despite my personal phone calls begging pleading to remind parents to give their child the medicine the doctor prescribed, we had four who came to school completely unmedicated. One of the four children ate part of the answer sheet, one never finished the test, and one refused to take the test. This used to scare me, but now I take my medicine daily so I can handle the stress. It just is what it is. Some things are beyond my control.

Thank goodness we sent home a letter and made a school-wide phone call to all the parents. Otherwise, we might have had more than the eleven students who showed up at school tardy and had to be tested in the afternoon.

Once the testing was over, I visited a few classrooms so I could find something to laugh about. After visiting a few rooms where the kids were dull and quiet after having all their energy and confidence zapped from them, I headed for the kindergarten hallway. In one kindergarten room, the class was singing B-I-N-G-O. Being one who loves a good song, I joined in with class. That is, until I noticed the little girl next to me was signing a different song. And I like her version even better! "B-I-embryo and bean-jo was his name, oh!"

Thank God we aren't testing the kindergartners yet!

Ladies, Please Warn Your Husbands (or Boyfriends)!

Today, Mrs. Wears PJs to School went to her daughter's classroom before checking her out of school. While there, this is the conversation that ensued.

Mrs. Wears PJs to School (with a thick, thick southern accent): "I only have seventy-five cents on me and I'm not sure that I have enough gas to get me home."

Mrs. Sweet Kindergarten Teacher: "Well, I'll give you some money. Here. I have $6 on me." (Note to self: $6! It is just past the middle of the month. Mrs. Sweet Kindergarten Teacher must be married to someone with money if she still has $6 to her name.)

Mrs. Wears PJs to School: "Aww. Thanks. I think I only need $2. I'll pay you back when I can. Well, I guess you heard about my husband."

Mrs. Sweet Kindergarten Teacher: "I didn't hear about your husband. Is he okay?"

Mrs. Wears PJs to School: "Well, no. He has a penile fracture." (What the hell!? How do you fracture the penis? Wait. Don't answer that question.) {She pronounced penile "peee-niiiile." Try it out for the effect.}

Mrs. Sweet Kindergarten Teacher (suddenly blushing and becoming very interested in her clipboard): "Oh. That must be hard." (I swear. Of all the things to come out of her mouth.)

Mrs. Wears PJs to School: "Yup! He hit it on my pelvis bone. You should tell your husband about this. My husband says it really hurts." (Ewwww! I did NOT need the visual. This is not a ummmm... good looking woman.)

Mrs. Sweet Kindergarten Teacher (trying desperately to disappear): "I hope everything is okay. Here is your daughter's backpack."

Mrs. Wears PJs to School: "You know, my husband is going to be soooo embarrassed. He hates when I borrow money from any body." (OMG! So is that what embarrasses him? And does he know you have verbal diarrhea?)


That, ladies and gentlemen, just may be the story of the year!

It is wrong to steal, right?

Earlier this week, a teacher came to me concerned about some of her classroom decorations that had gone missing. She wanted me to interrogate the class until someone broke down and confessed and began to beg to be taken out back and have their hands cut off because how could anyone steal when we all know it is so wrong to find the culprit. While I don't mind being the bad guy, I do think it is important for teachers to handle to more minor aspects of classroom discipline or otherwise I'd only be dealing with discipline issues and what fun is that?. Besides, as much as I've wanted a Matlock moment where the guilty party suddenly begins spewing truths, it has yet to happen.

The teacher went back to the classroom and talked with the students. Soon a name emerged. She called the student's mother and confirmed the child indeed had stolen a ridiculous coconut pirate head from her. This satisfied the teacher because justice had been served but apparently we all need to pause for a moment of silence for the temporary loss of this student's basic freedoms.

A day passes and all is well. That is, until a teacher came to tell on this teacher. I remember being surprised that middle school students still tattled but they don't hold a candle to the tattling that the adults can do. Apparently, this teacher (who really is a good teacher) had made a bunch of posters on the poster maker for her church which totally made me feel liking running through the halls screaming because I've been reminding them all year to only make posters for educational purposes because the damn paper and ink cost a freakin fortune.

Again, I went to counsel talk with the teacher. And yes, she had made some posters. According to her, "Maybe seven. No, make that about ten," posters. In full color. With a background and all. In fact, she had to change out the ink cartridge and reprint a poster when the ink ran out midway.

When I reminded her of what should have been freaking obvious stealing was wrong, she cocked her head in that confused puppy dog look and said, "But it was free."

After my head exploded, I calmly smiled while biting my tongue to the bleeding stage and reminded her that the poster paper and ink were NOT free since the poster maker fairy no longer brought presents especially now that the economy was in the toilet.

And I'm sure her student had the same idea. It was free.

In her defense, she is now on poster maker restriction going to pay a set amount to make this situation right. Lesson learned. Even if I didn't know there was a lesson to be taught there.

On a different note, one of my teachers begged me to follow her home because a bird had built a nest in the wreath on her front door. There were baby birds inside the tiny wreath. Yes! Spring is here!

Respecting the Smart Arsey-ness

Thankfully, the majority of my teachers respect a bit of smart arsey-ness. And they'd probably have to while working with me. That or beg to transfer to another school and that has happened much to my delight.

Yesterday, one of the Kindergarten teachers was playing a song and being silly with the kids during a rhythm and movement lesson. When she tried to show the students how to do the swim which is funny because have you ever seen how kindergarten students move? We love to have them skip just so we can get something to giggle about.. One student stomped his foot and crossed his arms. While the students were attempting to do some semblance of the swim (really, that move was quite butchered), the teacher went to Mr. Pouty to see what his issue was.

He whined, "I can't do this swim thing unless I have on my bathing suit."

And the teacher just looked at me with a BIG smile and said, "God, I love this kid!"

And this, this is what makes kindergarten so much fun!

Waiting for the other shoe to fall

From the moment you were born, I adored you. Or so the story goes since I was just 14 months old and way, way too young to have a memory yet. There are dozens of pictures of me holding you, kissing you, and just staring at you in awe. You were a damn cute kid.

We weren't like most sisters. There were very few fights. Two, to be exact. And both of them ended quickly (and with no lasting injuries). I just don't know what to do now that we hardly talk.

It hurts me to know my boys hear the disdain you have for me (and our mother) in your voice. Did I do something to hurt you? Or has life just been disappointing?

We planned to marry and live next door to each other. Our kids were going to be the same age. And we were going to own a chocolate store together.

Life can be full of unexpected events. The one I was least prepared for was losing you. Your friendship. You.

When you were little, people were always drawn to you. You had a love for life, a light in your eye, a laugh that was contagious.

Where did it go?

When your marriage was falling apart, I tried to be there for you. Having been through that hurt - that heart hurt - I wanted you to know you would come out better. And stronger. It was obvious you didn't want me there much. And when you remarried, we all wanted to support you. To celebrate. But we weren't allowed. So, we wished you well from our dark corner of your life. Did you know? Could you feel our wishes for you?

I miss being included in your world. And it feels like you are slipping farther and farther away.


I hope you know. I'd walk to the ends of the earth and back again to make everything okay with us again.





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This Tuesday Tribute is in honor of my sister. May life be all she dreamed it would be. Even if it doesn't include me.



A Jay and Deb Production.

I met a future teacher...

And he actually wanted to interview me. When I was in high school, I was all punky and a Madonna wanna-be (it was the 80s so forgive me). I think it is awesome when a *kid* (and I have to use this term loosely since he sounds more mature than me) knows what he wants to do when he gets through with school. I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.

So, head over to see Jason and give him some bloggy love. Feel free to make fun of my responses. For the most part, I was in serious educator mode - although I find it difficult to be serious for very long.

All my love,

Beth

Dying Eggs 101

Before our spring break, I was in one of the first grade classrooms when a little boy brought his journal to me to read. While it was a great writing sample and I was instantly jealous because I don't remember being able to write that much when I was in first grade, I was more intrigued by the words that had been erased.


The assignment was to write about how you dye eggs. This student wanted to be sure that the eggs had, in fact, died first. Probably not a bad plan.



The teacher this student has is an excellent teacher despite the fact she lacks a sense of humor and had Mr. Kill the Eggs make the appropriate corrections.



I loved the corrections! In my book, he gets extra points for creativity.

This just makes me consider the possibilities

On my last day of school before we got our get out of jail free card got out for spring break, I noticed this rule in our handbook.



Somehow, I have a hunch if a student actually did commit a homicide, the 10 day suspension and possible expulsion would be the least of their worries. But good to know they have this base covered.

Happy Passover and/or Easter to ya'll.

And sometimes blog fodder just falls right into your lap

Last night, two of my students, Jane and Tarzan, spent the night with us. They belong to my friend who has stage 4 ovarian cancer. She has an early, early doctor appointment in another town.

It has been interesting having the TV on the Disney channel again. Who the heck are the Wiggles?

This morning as I was picking out clothes for the adventures we are having today, this was the conversation that took place.

Jane: "We have some of those Canine Carryouts, too."

Me: "Yeah? Is that a toy?"

Jane: "Noooo. They are dog treats. You have some on the counter for your dog."

Me: "Oh. I didn't realize they were called that."

Jane: "Well, ours are exactly like yours. Except ours are bacon flavored."

Tarzan (playing on the computer): "They are delicious!"

Me (looking at Jane for clarification because surely he only heard the bacon part of this conversation): "Huh?"

Jane (nodding her head): "Yeah. He eats them. About three a day."

It is going to be an AWESOME day!

A letter to my husband

Dear Mr. Strong,

Let me apologize for being so grumpy with you this morning. While I appreciate your efforts in emptying the dishwasher, your Dishwasher Lesson 101 did anger me. You pointed out that the placement of this one ridiculous coffee cup basically caused the rest of the dishes to have spots. I instantly became defensive much like you do when your artist friend who still has shag carpet from the 1970s gives you decorating advice.

Had I tried to use the weed whacker or the foliage rocket (credit given to Ann for that term), I would completely understand your need and desire to lecture me on the proper uses.

Since this is my blog, I'd like to point out a few things you may have missed because I probably have control issues.

Take note of the location of the coffee cup.

According to you, this little cup stopped all the water from being sprayed upwards in the appropriate manner because it wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that our dishwasher is probably approaching it's second decade otherwise known as the sucky years (in dishwasher years, that is). This cup was the bird to your airplane engine, the match to your forest fire.

I'd like to point out where I think the water spray comes from. And I don't know for sure but I'm pretty sure these little arms are a-spinning when the dishwasher is trying to wash washing.



Also, let us take a moment to gander at the tubing. In my imagination, that tubing should be clear and not clogged with chunks of debris much like cholesterol clogs arteries. By all appearances, Dexter the Dishwasher could be having a stroke at any moment. I'm no doctor (or mechanic) and I could be totally wrong damnit! but it may be time to start thinking about a new dishwasher.

Regardless, let us just stick to what works for us. You cook. I clean. And don't even think about discussing anything about how I do the laundry because I'm afraid I may have a black out rage attack and you could be hurt.

And while I've got your attention, I do appreciate that you are cooking for some of our friends who had to move out of their flooded house. Your sense of humor is always appreciated by me. I hope they knew you were kidding with the first dish.

This is really Chicken Fried Rice not Chicken Tar Tar Fried Rice.

It was hard to give them this container because I wanted to keep it and hold it and eat it all by myself.

This was the best Pad Thai stuff I've ever had!


All my love,


P.S. The cable just came back on! It is a Passover miracle!

P.P.S. How could you?! You told Single Guy about my blog. With him living in our apartment, he is going to be GREAT blog fodder. You've got to fix this. Lie. Make up something. But don't tell Single Guy that I am making fun writing about him.

If you read it on a blog, it is true. Right?

Yesterday, my husband and I went to help tear up move the rest of our friend's stuff. We'll refer to him as Single Guy. While he is a great friend, trust me when I say there is a reason he is in his mid-40s and still single.

As we walked through the small pond that is his front yard (and yay for being able to drive into the driveway), I noticed this worm in the water!

Holy Schnike! Could this be one of those burrowing worms that my friend Michel from Facts are Strictly Optional warned me about? Michel is in Sudan (you know, that country in Africa) and not only is she fighting to avoid Lassa Fever there are worms that will burrow in your skin as you walk on the dirt roads.

Seriously, go read what Michel is up to these days. If she doesn't make you laugh then I'll refund your money because seriously you must need it for the therapy you are skipping out on. She is THAT funny!

As I was trying to figure out what to do with the six seven eight nine remote controls and the friggin equipment that went with them, the guys were ripping out the floor so the sub floor beneath could begin to mold and rot dry. All of a sudden I heard Single Guy say, "I got it. I killed it."

Being one with a bit of a fascination with morbidity, I just had to take a look. It was a snake! A dead as a doornail snake! (By the way, if you Google "dead as a doornail snake" images, the first image is a sign for a paying toilet. Can someone explain that for me?!)



The dead snake reminded me of a story my friend Jane from Gaston Studios told us about recently. Did you know snakes are still poisonous even after they are dead?! Bet ya didn't know that but you should have because poisonous snakes are godless killing machines (thanks for that phrase, Michel. It has come in handy lately. So go check Jane out. She is just full of important facts like that.

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This is my Tuesday Tribute to honor two awesome bloggers. There are many, many awesome bloggers out there and I wish I could recognize them all here but relax! There are a lot more Tuesdays remaining in this year.

A Jay and Deb Production.

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A quick note to say thanks to all who expressed concern about our flood (apparently God is smoting us as Michel pointed out earlier). While the cable hasn't yet returned and we've had to succumb to playing Trivial Pursuit, the water is now receding and the town is beginning the drying out process.

Should I be looking for pairs of animals?

The area I live in may or may not have been on the national news. We wouldn't be able to tell since the cable has been out for days now due to the rain and the resulting floods in our area. Mr. Strong and I have had to get used to the lack of background noise. We've actually had to talk.

And the word is that the cable won't be restored for at least another week. Apparently, cable doesn't work well under water.

All over town, roads and bridges are closed. You might want to go right up the street to the grocery store but soon you find out that you are going to have to go around your ass to get to your elbow take a different route.

The water is so high in some of the drivable areas, you can barely see the tops of the utility poles. It is hard to imagine what the water is like in the areas where the roads and bridges are closed.

And still the rain is expected to fall. We've never had a flood to this degree in our town. Last night, some friends of ours told us that people were hanging out in lawn chairs at a particular cemetery. The flood waters had reached the burial grounds and they were waiting for the caskets to float up to the surface. How sad it would be to have your loved ones float down the river.

We took a drive to the cemetery. I just had to know that my father's grave site was not under water. It wasn't. Although, I'm not sure what I would have done if it was.




We'd been going by one of our friend's house for the past couple of days to check on him. The backyard had slowly been claimed by the river. When we went today, our hearts sank. You can't even get into the driveway enough to see the house unless you use the canoe.

Surprisingly, I was moved to tears. I've always felt bad for the displaced natural disaster victims I've seen on the news but it just struck a chord for it to be someone I know who lives just a few blocks from me.




The house has been in this cool ravine for 40 years and never experienced a flood. Now, there is about 10 inches of water inside the house. The river is expected to rise 12 to 24 more inches. And there is still the rain that keeps coming and going. There are some houses in the area that are basically completely submerged.

At least we have an apartment in our backyard that is currently being used for storage. It'll make a great home for our friend while he renovates his house.




I guess this means the drought is over.

Story time

Do you want to hear a story? Come and gather on the rug. Please sit in your spot. You know which spot is yours. Keep your hands to yourself.

Ok, now. Which story should I tell you? Hmmmmm. This is a tough decision.

Lets start with the story about the mother who didn't care. We'll call her Ms. Bad Attitude.

Once upon a time, there was a little boy who was in the third grade. He loved school even though he never did his homework. You see, school wasn't very important to his mother. In fact, this little boy failed last year but his mother probably didn't know because she wouldn't pay for the lost book so she could get his report card. And if Ms. Bad Attitude had just called, just pretended to care, the book fee would have been dropped and the report card would have been handed over. But hell to the no-no no, this mother would NOT even pretend to be interested in her son's education.

One day, this little boy came to school as usual. Since it was almost the end of the month and the principal had put off the monthly fire drill practice to the last minute again, it was time for a fire drill. During the fire drill, the little boy started puking. Every where. Children were running and chunks were flying (you can thank me later for killing your appetite). Once the children were allowed back in the building, the little boy was taken to the office where someone called his mother to pick him up.

Instead of being concerned, this mother started screaming and yelling that her son was NOT sick. Despite her doubts, the mother came to the school to pick up her son. When she came into the office, she showed a nasty temperament to the secretaries and an even uglier temperament to her son. Raise your hand if you know what temperament means. You, in the yellow shirt. Yes, temperament means your mood. Here is a sticker for you.

After Ms. Bad Attitude took her son, people in the school felt bad for him. It was decided that the school social worker should be notified. The school social worker was concerned and said she would check into the matter.

The next day, the boy returned to school. Again, the boy began throwing up. This time, he almost made it to the bathroom. Again, Mr. Custodian had to come to his rescue (let us all say thank you, Mr. Custodian!). Once in the office, the little boy continued to fill the trash can with his innards. And again, Ms. Bad Attitude had to be called to pick up her puking son. And yet again, Ms. Bad Attitude came to school with a bad temperament.

You there on the letter J. Please pull in your feet. Let us all sit criss cross applesauce. There, now.

It was scary for the people working in the school. Ms. Bad Attitude kept screaming and cussing and yelling and cussing. Boys and girls, even though grown ups are technically allowed to cuss, did you know there is a law that forbids them from cussing and causing a scene in a school? That's right. Ms. Bad Attitude was breaking the law.

The principal told Ms. Bad Attitude that the boy needed to see a doctor and that the boy couldn't come back to school without a doctor's excuse. Ms. Bad Attitude didn't like being told what to do. She said some things that sounded like she was going to kick the principal's ass threats. And she had her latest baby daddy a big, bad man who is a known gang member pacing in front of the school. Everyone was scared and nervous. After a couple of minutes, Ms. Bad Attitude and her bad, scary man squealed out of the parking lot.

After she left, the principal decided to call the Department of Family and Children Services. She also called the police department and an officer was placed at the school for the rest of the day.

The next day, Ms. Bad Attitude came to school after the tardy bell had rang with the child and a doctor's excuse. She was not happy about the Department of Family and Children Services visiting her house with what she called a lame ass excuse. Again, she had a bad temperament and was yelling many things that can not be repeated in front of children. That's right, she was breaking the law again.

The principal and everyone in the office was scared. The police were called and quickly came to the school. Ms. Bad Attitude still had a bad temperament. Even to the big, police officer. Boys and girls, it is never a good idea to have a bad attitude to a police officer.

The big police officer took the mother outside. Ms. Bad Attitude continued to yell and scream. In the police officer's face. Yes, Johnny, I have seen the show Cops before. Yes, it was a lot like that show.

After several minutes, the police officer put handcuffs on Ms. Bad Attitude and took her to the pokey the big house jail.

So, you see, the moral of the story is even if you don't care, pretend to care. And don't yell and make threats. Especially to police officers.

UNSPEAKABLE OUTRAGE

Last week, a particular mother called me to complain about an UNSPEAKABLE OUTRAGE. But let us take a moment to frame up this particular mother. She is beautiful, intelligent, a single mother of one child, and the only parent who has ever called me a "Mother F-ing Biotch" to my face (I do realize others could have called me that from the privacy of their home or office). Lets just sum it up by saying she is charming

Back to the conversation from last week.

Furious Mother (I swear you could hear her huffing and puffing into the phone. Thankfully, our building IS made of bricks.): "I understand my daughter's father checked her out of school yesterday."

Me: "I can check on that for you. Is there a problem?"

Furious Mother (almost screaming): "Her father IS NOT ALLOWED to check her out. This is an UNSPEAKABLE OUTRAGE!"

Me (super confused as the mother just brought the dad with her to a parent conference a couple of weeks ago): "Are there any legal documents stating..."

Furious Mother (cutting me off): "I don't need the law to tell me who can pick up my daughter. I AM HER MOTHER!" (Yes! And he is her father! Your point?)

Me (realizing now where the daughter gets her rage issues): "Ma'am. Legally we can not deny a parent their child unless there is a legal document that states so..."

Furious Mother (again, cutting me off): "Well, I have a restraining order against him. Shouldn't that have kept him from checking her out?"

Me (furiously motioning for one of the school secretaries to pull the child's permanent record): "Yes. That would likely help. Do we have a copy of that restraining order?" (And how the heck IS there a restraining order if you just brought him to a meeting? Doesn't she realize we aren't allowed to use crystal balls in elementary schools?)

Furious Mother (still peeved): I just think I should have been notified. He has no rights to her."

Me (trying to be understanding because apparently it just scared her and I've been a single mom before): "I understand. There are a lot of kids from divorced parents and we simply have to have legal documentation when there are custody issues. Otherwise, parents could make a lot of requests to deny a parent access to their child that may not be legal."

Furious Mother (sounding like she is calming down): "Well, I never knew that. How am I supposed to know?"

Me: "Oh. Well, that information is in the student handbook you got at the beginning of the school year."

Furious Mother: "Well, I don't read that stuff. By the way, my daughter's dad will be picking her up today. Can you let her know?"

I couldn't make this crap up. I swear!