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!

Nurse Nancy LOVES her job!

I have what I consider to be the most dedicated of all school nurses working at my school. Nurse Nancy is awesome with the students and the overly dramatic parents. She even takes care of the teachers.

Several times a week, Nurse Nancy makes pronouncements about how much she loves her job which is GREAT because the state only pays her the salary of a sanitation worker! We love that Nurse Nancy loves her job because who else could handle all the puke. And someone pukes almost every day.

Last week, the one of the Kindergarten classes wrote letters to various people who help in the school. One particular student wrote one for Nurse Nancy. I think it may explain something about why she loves her job so much.



And why do you love your job?

This Tuesday Tribute is in honor of school nurses every where. May others appreciate their hardwork and dedication while merely working for peanuts.

Smiling through the pain because what else would you expect Ms. Sunshine to do

For the past several weekends, Mr. Strong and I have been working on getting the garden beautiful for Ms. Sunshine's 18th Birthday Garden Party. Ms. Sunshine had a vision of how the evening would go. There would be lights in the trees, the yard would be blooming and beautiful, a fire would be roaring in the fire pit, and the lantern would hang over the table where dinner would be served (with the quad of parents as the servers).

The lantern was plain white until Ms. Sunshine took it to her art teacher. The hand painted flowers were gorgeous and perfect for a garden theme.

The day prior to the party, Ms. Sunshine had gotten bad news. She was being put on the wait list of the university her sister is currently attending.

Why? There never is a good explanation other than somebody in the admissions department may or may not have been coked up that day. Somebody has some 'splaining to do because I'm ready to go up there and open up a can of whoop ass! Not to disrespect Ms. Busy (who is very busy off at the university), Ms. Sunshine has a higher GPA (somewhere on the edge of perfect) and has taken more AP classes and more electives. In addition, she has been the President of this club and that, the leader of the student senate and on a variety of boards about town. To say the least, she is very involved and a very good student.

But after a short tear-fest because we really would have allowed her to milk this for the weekend we all (by all I mean Mom, Dad [Mr. Strong], Step-Mom [me], and Step-Dad - we all get along because we are weird that way) loaded up and went to eat some Mexican food. In our world, when the going gets tough, it is time to break out the enchiladas and mole sauce and the Coronas with extra lime. Did I mention it was raining? Buckets? The day before the Garden Party?

And the weather report was predicting a 70% chance of rain for the next evening. Which, of course, would be during the Garden Party.

We decided to wait to see what the predictions would be the next morning. And the predictions HAD changed! They had changed to 100% chance of rain during the hours of the party.

Since we couldn't convince Ms. Sunshine to change the theme to a Flash Dance party she said it was no big deal and we just planned to move everything indoors which meant I had to clean like a maniac. She was all smiles as her guests arrived.


Now I've got a little explaining about the icing (and doesn't the green look a lot like poop from a bird who has eaten a whole freakin can of spinach?). You see, when the humidity is 100%, icing goes flat. At the present time, they do not have Viagra for limp icing. So, again, we made the best of the situation and just lit the candles and carried on. Thankfully, the Reece Cup Cheesecake had come out just like it was supposed to come out (it is was rich but delicious!).



I'm not sure what Ms. Sunshine's birthday wishes were for but I can guess what Ms. Poopy was wishing for... For someone to take off her adorable, party dress.



What can I say. She is just happier when she is nekkid.

Parents, Lawyers, and 911, Oh My!

It was such a wild and crazy day. Not the Steve Martin *fun* wild and crazy day but the OMG what the heck has happened kind of day.

It started with the phone calls from the school board attorney and one of the assistant superintendents regarding a student who is medically fragile. Without going into many details, the student is returning to school after a long stay in the hospital for almost dying. As it turns out oxygen IS important. Suffice it to say, I was a bit nervous about making sure we were doing everything to ensure the child's safety.

I was meeting with the mother while the teacher got the child out of the car and into the classroom when my cell phone began to ring. It was one of the secretaries informing me that a parent was coming down the hallway searching for me. This parent had refused to sign in at the office. She was going to find me NOW.

DAMNIT I need a school resource officer. And not for the kids but to help deal with the crazy-assed parents.

The parent who was ready to take me out back and shoot me on her way set me straight has a really great daughter, Ms. Drama, who can get a bit physical with some of the students. The previous day, Ms. Drama had forcefully elbowed a student in the gut. It was enough for him to puke and have difficulty catching his breath. Not behavior anyone could ignore.

I went out in the hall and told the ridiculous crazy mother she needed to make an appointment because I couldn't meet with her at that moment. The mother kept walking and talking. Spittle sprayed from her mouth. Again, I told her I couldn't meet with her. I then nicely told her she needed to leave as she hadn't even signed in at the office. She kept arguing. And she got closer and closer.

Finally, I loudly said, "Turn around and leave or I WILL call 9-1-1."

She kept arguing. And she was really becoming intimidating. I wonder where her daughter learned how to be so physical and so dramatic. I began to worry about her elbowing me until I puked. Puking before breakfast is a surefire way to start the day off on the wrong foot.

I held out my phone (while trying to keep my hands from shaking due to the massive adrenalin rush) and dialed 9-1-1.

Once that happened, she turned around in disgust and said something about calling the school board.

Being my usual mature self, I asked the 9-1-1 operator to hold the phone while I shouted out the phone number to the board office. No need in her having to look up the number.

Once I was sure she was gone, we cancelled the National Guard call for police back up.

As I headed back into the classroom to continue my meeting with the first parent, I looked at my watch. It was 7:35 a.m.

Obviously we need to work on Mr. Funny's conversation skills

After making the hamburger patties for Mr. Strong to grill on the grill (where else), Mr. Funny came into the room with his car keys.

Me: "Are you going somewhere?" (You see, I strive to be a master of the obvious.)

Mr. Funny: "Yes."

Me: "Where are you going?" (Which should have been the first question. What can I say. Its been a long day. Sue me.)

Mr. Funny: "To my friend's house."

Me: "So, are you not eating with us?" (See how my power of observation has already improved.)

Mr. Funny: "I'm not sure."

Me: "What friend are you going to see?"

Mr. Funny: "Someone you don't know."

Me (glaring at him, wondering if I should start the massive search for contraband in his room): "Who?"

Mr. Funny: "A guy named Chris. You don't know him."

Me: "What are you doing at your friend's house?" (And why can't he come here? What do his parents do? Doesn't he know I need names so I can Google them.)

Mr. Funny: "I'm just going there then we are going someplace else."

Me (what ever patience I did have remaining at the end of the day is quickly leaving me): "Where are you going after you leave your friend's house?"

Mr. Funny: "I don't know." (Holy schnike! Is there anything you DO know?)

Me (hearing a hum in my ears): "Then you can't go if you can't explain where you are going."

Mr. Funny (with agitation in his voice): "We have to go hear some speaker for extra credit in our class. " (This from the kid who has a frickin 97 as his lowest grade. How can I explain this without sounding callous? We are proud of him but we think he was swapped at birth.)

Me: "Who is the speaker?" (As if I think he'll know.)

Mr. Funny: "I don't know." (Are you beginning to see a pattern here?)

Me: "Where is the speaker speaking?" (Really. Where? Where?)

Mr. Funny: "I don't know." (I have nothing to say.)

Me (giving Mr. Funny the stink eye)

Mr. Funny: "That is why I'm going to my friend's house. He knows where the speaker is."

Me: "What class is this for?" (As if that will make a difference.)

Mr. Funny: "U.S. History."

Me (now searching for a sharp stick to poke in my eye): "I know this is probably going to be a stupid question, but what time do you think you'll be home? Just a ball park estimate will do."

Mr. Funny: "I don't know." (Bad-dum-ching)

And to think I thought conversations with Kindergartners was challenging.

Are you nuts if you can't open your coconut?

About a month ago, I read a post by GreenJello that reminded me of a little story about my grandmother. Which reminded me of a lot of lessons I've learned from my grandmother. For this week's Tuesday Tribute, I want to take a moment to reflect on a few of these lessons learned from my grandmother.

Lesson #1: Winning is everything! I was in elementary school before I realized my grandmother wasn't like other grandmothers. When she took my sister and I to bowl, she always kicked our ass won. To her, winning is so important, cheating is allowed.

Lesson #2: Food Poisoning is a myth. Refrigeration is truly optional. Thanks to my grandmother's refusal to properly store food efforts, I have a digestive system that is tougher than nails. Mexico, here I come!

Lesson #3: Any thing edible can go in the microwave. Even if it is a coconut. And it was the coconut's fault that the door of the microwave blew off. Not my grandmother's, that is for sure. Who could have guessed the coconut would explode taking the microwave door off and blowing it clear across the room?

Thank you, Grandma, for all you have taught me. I can't imagine where I would be without all your wisdom.