Auntie's Hideaway

First off, a big Thank You to elfwreck and eeyore9990 who helped the Impertinent Daughter with her algebra homework a couple of nights ago!



In case you're wondering, the AZ stands for "Angry Zangoose", which is her moniker on her DeviantArt account. She got an 88 on the test those questions were on, and said ruefully, "I would have gotten a higher grade, except on that one problem, I had memorized the formula and had the number 27 in my head, so when I worked the problem on the test, I write 27, instead of 47, which was on the test!"

But the important thing is, she understands it now!, so... no worries!

In other news, the Impossible Son is experiencing tummy trouble again, though it seems to be more serious now.

*sigh*

No bullying this time, but he is having anxiety about the TAKS "diagnostics" that they're taking this week. Yes, they take diagnostics to find out where the kids are weakest and see what they need to work on to improve their scores when the real test comes in April.

*sigh*

He went to the school nurse twice on Monday, had to come home on Tuesday and go to the doctor, who palpated his abdomen and said, "Well, he's not constipated, and he's not reacting when I push down and lift on his right side..."

So, we were sent for bloodwork, and his white cell levels are normal.

He stayed home yesterday, and was fine. Till afternoon, when he started complaining about his stomach again, and then by last night...

*sigh*

He didn't eat breakfast this morning, either. So, I proved to him again that he can handle addition and subtraction... and he decided to go to school.

Haven't gotten a phone call yet, so... I'm hoping for the best.

Thing is, it's not general stomach pain. This is very specific. It hurts... behind his belly button. Appendicitis and gall bladder problems run in my family. And on my dad's side, it's stealth appendicitis. My dad complained of vague stomach pain, and didn't want to eat. He never ran a fever or had any nausea, went to the doctor, had blood tests run and all that. Nothing. So, one day, he decides, "Enough lolly-gagging, the house needs painting, and it won't done any faster if I don't start." So, he hauls out the ladder and starts painting. Mom's in the house, and this was before we had air conditioning, so all the windows are open. She hears a groan, then the ladder hits the side of the house, and there's a loud thump. She rushes outside, and Dad has passed out and fallen off the ladder. He never faints, so she knows something's drastically wrong and calls the neighbors to help her get him up and get him to the hospital. The E.R. docs take one look at him and say, "Appendicitis," and get him into surgery just before it bursts. Then there was his dad, who was sitting at the table one morning, drinking his coffee and reading the paper one moment, then rolling on the floor, grabbing his stomach and howling in agony the next. His grandmother, who calmly finished cooking dinner, laying out the table, and making sure everyone was served before saying, "I'm going to see the doctor now," and promptly hitting the floor. Yep, appendicitis.

Is it any wonder I'm worried and waiting for the phone to ring?

What keeps me from freaking out is... he's eating. He's pooping. He's not running a fever. He doesn't complain when you press on his stomach with your hand. He's not rolling on the floor, grabbing his stomach and howling in agony.

What keeps me concerned is... he's complaining consistently that it hurts behind the belly-button (which rules out gall bladder in my mind), he does not like anything pressing against his waist or tummy (like jeans, underwear, passing butterflies), and he's content to curl up on the couch and watch TV or play games on the Wii.

My son likes to watch TV like any other kid, but give him a choice between TV and playing outside, and outside will win every single time. Having him curled up on the couch and not begging to go play outside is... unnatural.

Needless to say, the Husbandly One, the Impertinent Daughter, and I are all watching him like so many hawks. And I can't help but think, today is Thursday... you just know if anything is going to happen... it'll happen this weekend.

*sigh* I've already told the doctor I want a recommendation for a pediatric gastrologist, because I know Mr. Manzie has major acid-reflux as it is. Thanks, Dad, but you know, the tummy problem genes were in that group I wish you'd kept to yourself!

*grumbles*

All right, F-Listies, I am depending on you!!

The Impertinent Daughter has algebra homework that has completely stumped me. I have gone through my notes, gone through the book we got to help her, and even done a search on Google, but...

Okay, one, this problem makes NO sense to me whatsoever. And I can't refer to a text book because... there is no text book for this class. Why? Because the algebra teachers at the junior high decided this year that the text the district selected did not, and I quote, "adequately teach the algebra concepts that would be covered by the TAKS."

Okay, the last time I heard that, the Husbandly One and I decided to take over teaching Miss Priss math, and she was one of the few third grade students at her school who passed the Math TAKS.

Anyhow, because of that, the junior high's algebra teachers decided to write their own text book, so to speak, and they're writing it as they go along. Don't even ask me how I feel about this, because you probably know already.

Here is the problem:


The length of a rectangle is three more than twice its width. The perimeter of the rectangle is 27 inches. What are the dimensions of the rectangle?


She is expected to give the equation, and the dimensions (length and width).

Oh, and since she's supposed to take notes, and the teacher moves through this with blistering speed (being one of those people who knows her subject so well, she is lousy at teaching it), and explains things by teaching them shortcuts instead of showing them how to actually do the work... well, you see how we got here.

Oh, and just for shits and giggles (can you tell I am supremely annoyed?), there's another problem that is giving us both fits.


Tanya wrote four consecutive integers on the board. The sum of the fourth and five times the first was 957. What were the four integers that Tanya wrote?


Again, she's expected to give the equation, and the four integers.


She took notes on this type of problem today. Only... the formula she was given... won't work on this problem.

*bangs head into desk*

Please, if someone can tell us just how to work these damn problems (if they are, indeed, workable), we can come up with the answers ourselves, but... *flails*

Oh, and the teacher's solution when Miss Priss can't understand her explanations is to send her to the library until she can work the problem.

Perhaps she's hoping Miss Priss will find a real algebra teacher in there?

Help us, please!!

Just when I think I've gotten over being furious with the Impossible Son's second grade teacher... something happens that makes me furious all over again!!

*takes slow deep breaths to calm down*

I knew he had lost a lot of instruction time last year, thanks to Oblivious Teacher and the bully incident , but I didn't realize just how much until yesterday, when I was helping him with his math homework.

AAAAAUUGGHH!!!!
( Cut, because OMG, such a long story!! )

Okay, so... I talked to the 8th grade principal, who happened to be the person who took the Impertinent Daughter's bag. And I must thank elfwreck for her invaluable advice and suggestions!

Anyhow, I organized my thoughts and called for an appointment... only to have the school secretary take my number because Ms. Principal was in a conference with another parent and would call me back as soon as possible. Ms. Principal did call back, probably hoping to catch me off guard, and wanted to handle things over the phone. Fine. I had everything I wanted right in front of me, no problem.

The basic gist of the conversation was ...

(1) When the junior high was completed a little over ten years ago, a decision was made to not have lockers, and not allow backpacks, bags, etc. as a safety issue.

(2) Any bag large enough for a zippered binder to fit into was too big.

(3) The junior high had 1000 + students, and it was hard to keep track of them all and they are clever about hiding/concealing things they don't want the teachers/administrators to see.

(4) The one thing they had discovered over the years was that students were continually hiding things in their bags, things that weren't allowed at school, and it was causing problems. It's been a much safer, calmer school since they banned backpacks and book bags.

On that last one, I said, "What kinds of things were they hiding??"

She said, and yes, I am totally serious, she actually said this, "Things that aren't allowed by the Code of Conduct." You could actually hear the capital letters in that phrase.

*mental eye-roll*

"Can you be more specific than that?" I asked patiently.

"Well, electronics, cell phones..."

"Since cell phones are allowed by the Code of Conduct with permission note from parents, I don't see that as a problem. And I'm not sure I understand the danger of iPods and DS games, though I admit they are distractions." I considered, then said, "If you're talking about drugs or weapons, I should think you would keep parents informed and involved, since they are probably your best bet in preventing either from showing up at your school." Didn't want to mention the fact that if there were drugs in the school (and there are), it's likely that a teacher or other member of staff is part of the supply-line. During my time at high school, even the un-cool, straight edge kids knew which teacher or janitor to go to for something to either ease the pain or keep you happy for the weekend.

She said hastily, "We just find it's better overall if there aren't bags or backpacks in the school. Since the students aren't allowed to take text books home, and all they're carrying is their zippered binder and their lunch, it's not like they're loaded down."

I pointed out that some kids carry considerably more than just a binder and their lunch. Some carry a binder, a lunch, gym clothes, instruments for band, special supplies for other classes that can't be kept in the classroom. And that since there is no textbook for my daughter's Algebra 1 class (and that is an entirely different rant I won't get into now), that binder is now crammed with notes and handouts from THAT class, as well as work from her other classes. "I'm not asking for an exception for my kid," I said, trying very hard not to sound angry. "I'm asking for a review of your policy, because y'all are being very inconsistent in enforcement of that policy."

Oh, it's not a policy. It's a procedure. And they're doing it because they've always done it, since the school was built ten years ago. She kept harping about that, ten years ago, we did this because it was decided ten years ago... over and over. This puzzled me greatly.

She told me that there was going to be an administrative meeting the next morning, and they would review the policy procedure at that time. The woman also seemed to have uniforms on the brain, too, because she said, "And the issue of school uniforms is not something the district can decide on its own. It has to have the input of the parents as well. I'm so glad you reminded me of this, Auntie! I'll put it on the agenda for the meeting tomorrow morning!"

I said, "Ms. Principal, I didn't say one word about uniforms. I'm talking to you about book bags, purses, and the no backpack policy..."

"Procedure," she said.

"Policy," I continued. "Do not count me as one of your supporters where uniforms are concerned."

She promised to call me after the meeting to tell me the results (like I couldn't predict the outcome of THAT meeting) and I said, "Thank you, please do call me, because if you don't, I will be calling you."

"Oh! Certainly!"

After I got off the phone, I kept hearing that "ten years ago," over and over, and having a little suspicion in my brain, went to do a bit of research. And BINGO! I was right.

Columbine happened ten years ago.

*shakes head*

I guess it makes no difference to her that the two boys involved did not "hide things in their backpacks," and sneak them into the school. Or that this happened in a high school, not a junior high. Or that there were concerns expressed about the two students involved, that they had been in therapy, had been investigated... and that law enforcement had failed to follow through in their original investigation.

This also explains the almost rabid fear of Goths in our district.

I also had forgotten that Ms. Principal had originally been the head principal at the junior high, and is responsible for the dress code that has been driving us all nuts. And she got fired for it... twice. And now she's back as the 8th grade principal.

So, I wasn't surprised at all when she called me yesterday to tell me that the administration had reviewed the situation and decided to keep the no backpacks/no book bags policy in place. And that they had sent an email to all the teachers at the junior high to remind them of this procedure and that it was part of their job to confiscate bags as they see them.

She also told me the teachers were quite happy about this.

My feeling is, if the teachers were quite happy about it, there wouldn't be so many kids openly walking around with beach bags/totebags/messenger bags.

So, I will be following up on this, either with a letter or an email to the principal, and a letter to our school board representative. This becomes a little more imperative since the Impertinent Daughter is now taking part in the UIL art competition (though she isn't taking art at the school) and is having to bring her sketchbook and art supplies to school.

I'm getting tired of this, and I am very glad that this is Miss Priss' last year at this school. Now, if I can just get her through the debacle that is her algebra class!

The Impertinent Daughter's bag was confiscated today.

*glowers*

See, the Husbandly One got us both Dumbledore's Army messenger bags. Mine was a birthday present, and hers was to keep her from absconding with mine. Because... she wanted one, too!

I am using mine as sort of a purse, because, well, Auntie is a mom, so... I carry Mom-type things in it (tissues, a small sewing kit, a few bandages in a small bag, Germex, etc), and I like to sketch sometimes, so... a small sketchbook and a bag of pencils, etc, and then there's my wallet, a small hairbrush, my DS Lite for those times when I'm waiting and unable to sketch or read... you get the picture, right?

The Impertinent One was using hers for pretty much the same purpose. She carried her wallet, her emergency moon cycle stuff, pencils, pens, phone ( I think in today's world, when a kid starts junior high, they need a basic, no frills cell phone), and had room for her gym clothes and her zippered binder. It's smaller than the bags most of the girls at her school carry as "purses," so we thought it would pass muster.

Besides, the dress code only bans backpacks. Not any other type bag. Just backpacks.

She's used this bag for two weeks with no problem. Then today, the 8th grade principal stopped her, thinking she was a new student (!!) and confiscated the bag. When Miss Priss said, "Ms. Principal, it's me, the Impertinent Daughter," Ms Principal frowned, then said, "Oh, my, you've had a hair cut!"

O_o???

Her hair was cut two weeks before school began.

Nonetheless, Ms. Principal took her bag, making her take everything out of it and saying it would be too easy for someone to steal her stuff.

Um... what??? What the hell does THAT mean?? If the bag is on Impertinent's shoulder, and it is closed with straps and buckles... then... how does that make it easy for someone to get into to steal her stuff??

Not only that, but it seems there were six other girls nearby, all with bags bigger than Miss Priss' bag, but... they weren't being confiscated.

Now, I have been in and out of that school. And I see girls on a frequent basis with bags that are about the size of your average beach bag. Big enough to literally hide behind, right? And no one has ever taken them away. Needless to say, I will be making an appointment to see Ms. Principal tomorrow to talk about this issue with the bags. Because, like so many other things at that school, they are not being consistent. Okay, you don't want the girls to carry large bags? Then you better start lining them up in the gym every damn morning for bag inspection, and if some of them are carrying bags that are too big, they better go, no matter WHO their daddy is and how much he donates to the football team!

Can you tell I'm getting all riled up? I wouldn't be so cranky about this if it was a district wide policy. But it isn't. It's only at the junior high. The freshman campus, and the high school allow backpacks. They also allow normal clothing choices. So why just at the junior high?

Not a clue.

Should be interesting tomorrow, that's for sure!

So, the Asthma Monster arrived with the ragweed pollen, and I'm ... not doing as badly as say... last year, but I'm still not a happy camper. After I got the kids off to school, I took my meds and pretty much passed out in bed till 1, then got up and groggily decided lunch wasn't happening for me and stared at the computer for a bit. Then I thought shower might help matters, and was in the process of getting in when... the phone rang. And at first, I was going to ignore it, thinking, "Oh, if it's important, they'll call back..."

But you know, there's this thing called "Mom Radar," and I just knew...

So, I answered it and... it's the nurse from the Impossible Son's school. And my first thought was, "Dammit, he's got a fever... I knew I should have kept him home when he said his throat was sore!"

But nooooo... now, y'all just know it's not going to be that simple for Auntie... right?

"Auntie? Yes, I have Mr. Impossible here in my office, and it seems he's been stuffing erasers up his nose."

O_o... wtf???

"Erasers? Up his nose?" I said intelligently.

"Yes. I got most of it out, but his little nose is so swollen, I can't be sure there isn't more still in there..."

"Erasers?? Up his nose??" I said, apparently still stuck in first gear.

"Yes. You're going to have to take him to the doctor or the clinic..."

"Erasers?? Up his nose??"

Gobsmacked does not even come close to covering it.

So, I got dressed (yes, shocolate, I talked to the school nurse on the phone NAKED) and called the family doctor. "No, we don't have any openings today, we're full up," the nurse said. Great, I thought. That means the so-called "urgent care clinic," in our town, which closes at 5 p.m. It's less an urgent care clinic, though, and more of a... well... let's put it this way... if your problem is urgent... you're better off going to the emergency room, because you aren't getting in to see so much as a nurse for at least two hours. So, I called the Husbandly One to let him know what was going on... and went straight to voice mail. I waited a couple of minutes, called again... and straight to voice mail. Fuck this, I thought, and called the office landline.

It was disconnected.

Wonderful, I thought, greatly frustrated. And decided to move on.

I went to pick up the little miscreant fezart eraser-up-the-nose-stuffing poor little guy, and found a rather embarrassed son standing in the nurse's office. The nurse pulled out a small bag with crumbled bits of eraser in it, and my stomach dropped. Now, when the nurse had said "eraser" (I think that's rubber for you Brits, right?), I thought she meant either the ubiquitous big pink eraser that has haunted primary school since time immemorial or those funny wedge shaped ones you put on top of the pencil when the built in eraser wears out.

But no, not even close.

It was... an art gum eraser!! The suckiest eraser known to mankind. The eraser that crumbles into bits the moment you touch it to paper. Yeah, THAT one.

Could he have picked a worse type of eraser to stuff up his nose or what?

"Where did you get this?" I asked, staring at it. "I didn't give you art gum erasers!"

"From the teacher," he said, shrugging.

I checked him out, and of course, I could not help asking The Question. You know the one I mean. The one parents have asked every time one of their kids does something so ridiculous and just plain weird, and just want to understand why??

"Why did you stuff eraser bits up your nose?"

He blinked and gave The Answer kids have always given their parents when they do something ridiculous and just plain weird. Shrug. "I don't know."

Because really, he doesn't. He has no idea, none at all. It just... seemed like the thing to do. He borrowed the eraser from the teacher, tried to use it, watched it crumble and suddenly thought, "Hey, you know, those are just the right size to fit up my nose." Or maybe he thought, "You know, those crumbly bits look just like nasty, dried up boogers. Hey, I'll stuff them up my nose and see if I can gross people out!!" Who knows??

Well... the clinic was stuffed to bursting. Literally. The parking lot was packed, there were cars parked up and down the street and there were people waiting outside. People who stood in little groups, hunched in misery, eyes streaming, sneezing and coughing, dabbing at eyes and noses with crumpled tissues...

I took one look at that and thought, "Oh, no, not today." Yeah, THAT'S what we need. The FLU!! I don't think so!

I took my stinker home and made one more call to my doctor. "Is there any way y'all can fit me in? The clinic is stuffed to the gills. Look, I'll sit and wait for the first available second..."

"Let me talk to the doctor," said the receptionist, and then came back with, "I talked to Dr. R, and the PA, and they both said that they don't have the equipment to deal with this, since you said the erasers are up in both nostrils. They said you should take him to the emergency room."

I looked at the Impossible Son, who was dancing to New Found Glory on his iPod. Our E.R. co-pay went up, and I really wasn't looking forward to taking him someplace else where there would be MORE flu-stricken people. The closest urgent care centers to us are in Austin, New Braunfels, and Wimberly. I was not going to drive into Austin at 3:25 p.m.... not unless he was bleeding out his eyeballs. New Braunfels and Wimberly were out, too. And I still couldn't contact THO.

Thinking of THO reminded me that he had surgery three years ago in San Marcos... with an ear, nose, and throat guy who sees all ages. I googled him, called their office, and yes, yes, no problem, bring him on in.

YAY!! So, knowing that the Tall Blonde would pick up the Impertinent One, I took Mr. Manzie in to San Marcos to see Dr. T. who Mr. Manzie just LOVED, and after sticking a tube up that little nose that let him look into Mr. Manzie's sinuses, was able to tell me that the Impossible Son either sneezed the eraser crumbs out, or swallowed them, because his sinuses were clean.

Oh, happy day!!

He then gave Mr. Impossible the "Don't stick anything up your nose or in your ear that's smaller than your elbow," speech, which still cracks me up, because wow, kids always react the same way. The first thing they do is... try to stick their elbows in their ears!! I think doctors do that on purpose, just to see if a kid will do it!

Much relieved, we made our way back home, and then to the Tall Blonde's house to pick up the daughter.

The Husbandly One called not long after I'd arrived. "Where are you?" he asked, sounding frantic.

Turns out, he turned his phone off, because it needed to be charged and he was saving it in case he needed it while driving. And his company changed their phone numbers, but he never worried about it since he carries his mobile with him all the time. He'll be giving me that new number pretty quick, I think!

All in all, a more adventurous day than I'd anticipated. Ah, the adventure that is parenthood. It's not for sissies, or the faint of heart. And I still haven't gotten my shower!!

So today, the Impossible Son's second grade class went to visit Aquarena Springs in San Marcos, Texas.

(Like y'all would ever forget I live in Texas, right?)
( Cut, because there are lots of pictures!! Take a look!! )

Well, I may hate the school district, but the counselor at the Impossible Son's school is full of WIN!!
( Cut because y'all know me, it's a LONG story! )

So, there I was, about to pop some chicken in the microwave for my lunch... and my phone starts ringing. It's Ms. Teacher calling me, telling me she got my message.

What? No, she had no idea the Impossible Son might be getting bullied! She's never seen anything, except maybe when they're standing in the lunch lines, and then they're only just kind of jumpy, wiggly, and just... acting like little boys!

What? Define acting like little boys? Well, they just can't keep still, can they? They jump, skip, kind of nudge each other, that sort of thing.

The playground? Well, they have a P.E. teacher for P.E., and I haven't been on the recess rotation this semester, I'm helping with testing and tutoring, but the teachers that are outside on the playground haven't reported any problems. Well, wait, I'll take that back. Last week, Mr. Manzie was put in time out for throwing a rock at another little boy. What? My goodness, how did you know, did X's parents say something to you? Oh, you mean X is the one you think is bullying Impossible? Well, I've never seen anything... but then I have 14 kids in my class. It's the biggest second grade class at our school, and it's a little hard to keep my eye on them all. And you know, the girls are so much easier to deal with than the boys!

I don't think I have to go any further, do I? The woman is oblivious, and she has mentioned to me repeatedly all year how overwhelmed she is by fourteen students!! Fourteen!!! Honey, when I was in elementary school, there were sometimes thirty six kids in my class with one teacher... and no teacher aides. And there were never less than thirty two. When I got into middle school, I went to a "magnet" school that boasted about smaller class size, which translated to 24 students to a teacher per class. And she's complaining about 14? Granted, at my son's elementary school, the usual class size is ten to twelve.

And the thing about the rock throwing? That is so unlike my son that I am stunned! What really blows my mind about this is the fact that we had to punish Mr. Manzie for doing the same thing last night. He threw a rock at one of the Fireman and Coffee Lady's kids. This, after the kid in question had been shouting something at him that the Impossible Son refused to discuss, but would get red in the face every time he thought about it, looking toward me with his lips pressed very tightly together before looking back down at his feet. In other words, he had put up with it as long as he could, until he finally snapped and threw a rock. The fact that he threw a rock at the kid who was bullying him doesn't seem to be much of a coincidence now.

The thing is, the Impossible Son is such an incredibly laid-back little guy. Stuff usually rolls off his back like water off a duck... but he can get his feelings hurt, and when it happens... he just wilts. He goes off to be by himself, just to get over his mad, and then he's back and all smiles again. He's very like me in that way. However, if you keep pestering him, and don't let him get over it... well... the results are never good. But it doesn't happen often, and it's very rarely physical.

*sigh*

I also asked about his math scores (again), hoping to get a more definitive answer. Ah, vain hope, how you fade against the light! Okay, that's me being overly dramatic, but, jays, I'm telling y'all... "Oh, he's doing fine, he's doing so much better, it's mostly a matter of him staying on focus, and yes, there's some test anxiety there, but I'm sure we can work him through it..."

Yes, because last semester, his math test scores were so much higher, and suddenly this semester, he's tanking, oh, yes, thank you, that all makes so much sense now! How silly of me to be concerned!!

I have higher hopes of the school counselor.

The Husbandly One wants to transfer him to another school. I pointed out to him that Mr. Manzie's problems are specific to one teacher, a teacher who is new at the school (and new to teaching), and not with the school per se. If I thought it was worth it, I would ask that he be transferred to another class, but we only have three and a half weeks left. He does have good friends in his class (his best friend is in the class), and I had told him this morning to stick with his friends and ignore anyone else. When I picked him up after school, he came racing to me as usual, and threw his arms around me, hugging me a little harder than he usually does.

"I really love you, Mom," he said, and I hugged him back, telling him I loved him dearly, dearly.

He grabbed my hand so we could start walking to the car. "My teacher said you called today. She said you called five times!!"

"Um... yes, yes, I did," I said, wondering what was going on.

He grinned and said, "I'm glad. I'm really glad!"

"Oh? Why?"

"Because she told me what a good job I'm doing in math, and that she's proud of how hard I've been working."

"I see," I said, wondering where this was going. "Well, so... how was today?"

"It wasn't too bad. I stayed with my friends, like you said, and I had a really good day." And he started skipping along happily beside me, chattering away like a little bluejay, and I wondered again about how resilient kids are, and that sometimes, all it takes to make me happy is to see him cheerfully skipping along beside me, talking about silly things, and making the odd little noises boys are so prone to making, all in an effort to gross me out...

I guess we'll just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings...

Okay, so I had to go around her and go through the school office to send her a message that I would like to schedule an appointment to speak with her. Because... she was not available when I called. Because I did it this way, the principal has to be notified. And you know, I really hate doing it this way. I'd rather deal with the teacher first and give her a chance to work things out rather than having to do the heavy-handed thing, but you know, constant avoidance tends to bring out the heavy-handed approach in a lot of parents.

Oh, and I asked the school counselor, who is actually an extremely competent counselor who groks kids and the way their minds work, to check on the Impossible Son. He may tell her what he won't tell me.

*sighs*

This is one of the downsides of the Mom Job.

I am the world's worst mother.

No, really... I am.

The Impossible Son has been having this vaguely persistent tummy ache for, well... close to two months now. He's been to the doctor, we've done blood tests, ultrasounds, the works. And... nothing. It is possible his appendix could be acting up, and we've been keeping an eye on it, but really, I suspect another cause.

Stress.

And I think there are two sources.

One, he's making 90's and 100's in every subject... except math. So, I've been going online to the school's website (which is not very user friendly) to check on things through the family access portal. I finally managed to dig my way in to looking at his daily grades.

His grades on his daily math class work are actually rather good. Mostly 100's, a few 80's here and there.

Then... you look at his score for the test on Friday. And they're all in the 50's. Mostly 55, and 56.

He's tanking on the tests, and that is bringing his grade down to an F, which sort of puzzles me, because when I averaged his grades out myself, counting the tests, it should be around a C. And that's making me wonder how much those test scores are counting toward his total math grade.

Not that I have a great deal of confidence in his teacher's ability to teach math because so far, what I've seen and heard makes me think she's one can short of a six-pack where math is concerned.

Then... there's the two boys in his class that are picking on him.

Did I mention the teacher seems to be avoiding me?

I've been trying to talk with her, meet with her, etc, and... she's not playing ball.

So my son has a stomach ache every morning before school, is completely miserable, and begs to stay home, and by the time I pick him up in the afternoon, he's happy, and the tummy ache is mysteriously gone. Until bedtime, when it's back, because the Husbandly One or I said, "Time for bed, you've got school in the morning!"

*sigh*

So, this morning, he begged harder than usual to stay home, saying he just couldn't do it, his tummy is really hurting, Mom, please, let me stay home today.

I look at him. His color is good, he's not over-salivating, or swallowing excessively. I give him kid Motrin for the headache, and a kid's Tums for the tummy ache (usually settles it right down) and say firmly, "Sorry, but you have to go to school. You have no fever, you're not throwing up... I think you're going to live."

The look of betrayal is hard to take, but I'm the mom, I've got to make tough decisions... I took him to school.

He was quiet most of the drive, until after I dropped off Miss Priss, and then he asked again, "Mom, really, my tummy really, really hurts, please, please take me home!"

I look at him in the mirror. Color is still good, no excessive swallowing, etc... "Dude, you have to go to school."

He tries a couple more times, and I don't back down, so he's quiet the rest of the way to school. Then, when he gets out of the car, he looks toward me, his bottom lip quivering, and his eyes are full of tears, and I feel like I'm sending him to his execution.

I am a vile betrayer. I am worse than a wicked step-mother. I am the world's worst mom.

*sigh*

Needless to say, I will be paying a visit to the school today. His teacher will talk to me. Because I really don't think I can do that again.

I have put the Fear of Auntie into the school district.

This is the Impertinent Daughter's take on my reaction to her telling me about what happened yesterday...



I think I was much calmer than that. Probably more like this...



Anyhow, the district and the junior high have been falling all over themselves trying to do damage repair, and find out who dropped the ball and make sure it never gets dropped again. In fact, the principal at the junior high called me at 7:20 this morning (fortunately, I was up) to reassure me that every single teacher at the school was fully aware of the consequences of swine flu, and that they were to send any student that seemed sniffly, or had a headache or complained of body aches to the nurse RIGHT AWAY, and that they were in no way trying to boost and/or keep attendance up for the TAKS testing.

Hmph.

And I said, "From what I understood yesterday, the student in question had been feeling bad since Tuesday, but came in to take the test, that the teacher knew she was feeling bad, but said she could go to the nurse after taking the test, and that the student then hugged several of the OTHER students on her way out. Because she was leaving, not going to the nurse."

I don't think I've ever really heard someone hyperventilate over the phone before.

Needless to say, she went on to assure me that the custodial staff has been wiping down every surface in the school with disinfectants (I didn't bother to ask if they included library books on that list of surfaces), and will continue to do that several times a day for the duration of this emergency, that they are monitoring this situation with all possible attention, etc, etc, et all...

Well, at least they're finally, finally on the ball. And all U.I.L. events at Texas schools, including sporting events have been canceled until May 11th, several more schools have closed...

I'm just glad that I scared them into doing what they should have been doing from the very beginning. Now, if they can just keep the momentum going!!

I'm off to run errands, and pick up some more hand sanitizer for my kids to keep in their bags.

Jays, this town sometimes just... chaps my hide!!

Well, first off, I just checked the school district's web page a little while ago and there's a letter up, stating that our school district AND county have no confirmed cases of swine flu... at this time.

Meaning I set a fox in the hen house when I made my lil' ol' phone call.

Good. They need shaking up, and to tighten up their sloppy practices. Trust me... they have some pretty damn sloppy practices. Need I remind anyone of the year of "once-a-month-strep?"

*grimaces*

On a lighter note, my daughter spotted one of our herd of spiny lizards sunning itself on a football (alas, the American kind, shocolate), and he/she stayed long enough for me to get a couple of pictures.

( Click to see our mini-dinosaur!! )

I am trying to distract myself, really. It's kinda... okay, it's not working, and I don't know how much sleep I'm going to get. I'm very... upset. Not so much about my kids possibly getting swine flu as their being exposed to it because of sloppiness, carelessness, and thoughtlessness on the part of a school district so focused on those damn TAKS tests that they put my kids (and I include all my kids in this, my biological kids, and the ones I've taken into my heart) at risk just so the numbers of kids taking the tests stay high, thus increasing the odds of good scores. And thus, more funding and recognition.

And yes, I'm worried about my kids getting the flu. Because of stupidity. Sheer, careless, asinine, and completely ham-handed stupidity.

I better get some answers tomorrow. Or I go public.

*throws down gauntlet*

I HATE OUR SCHOOL DISTRICT!!!!

lddhurham, this is me, finally flipping my nut!

I am FURIOUS!!

Today was the TAKS test at the junior high. I picked up my daughter after school and she tells me... that a girl sat next to her who is possibly a carrier for swine flu, and she only came to school to take her test, and left right after.

*YANKS OUT HAIR*

Oh, you KNOW I tried calling the school office. Funny, but for some odd reason, their switchboard was shut down. Huh. Funny that. Can't imagine why. Maybe it was because 20 or 30 angry parents like ME were calling and demanding to know just what the hell they were THINKING????

So... I called the school district.

They said they had no idea, and I believe them. BUT I'M STILL PISSED OFF!! HUGE break in district protocol... HUGE. Especially with two school districts just down I-35 from us who have shut down their schools... because of swine flu.

Auntie is madder than a hornet. Forget Bear Mode. I'm in Mother Wolf Auntie Mode right now.

Well, so much for getting to bed early last night.

The Impertinent Daughter informed me at 8 p.m. last night that the Death Eaters administrators at her school decided that students were no longer allowed to be in possession of... rubber bands. Yes, that's right, folks, the kids are no longer allowed to have those extremely dangerous implements, rubber bands in their pockets, on their binders, in their hair, etc. Because they can use these extremely hazardous items to... launch paper.

*closes eyes, sighs, muttering "Ay-yi-yi" under her breath*

Give me strength, I swear. I'm wondering how many girls who wear ponytails on a regular basis are freaking out this morning because they can't put their hair up?

The reason this impacts us is because of the boxes I chose for my kids' bentos. They are temporary, but for now, they are the right size and depth. Only problem is, they have a tendency to pop open when a kid does something like swing them around, bump them into other kids, or walls, or tables, etc., with the end result of food everywhere. So... I just salvaged the big rubber bands that came with our newspaper and wrapped them around each end of the box... and problem solved.

Until now.

I offered to take some extra wide elastic and sew the ends together for her to replace the rubber bands.

No, that won't work, they still count as "rubber bands."

I said, "Okay, how about I get some fabric and make tubes to cover the elastic, you know, whip the ends together and you can use those? If they fuss, you can say they're headbands and pop one on to prove it!"

"Mom... we can't have headbands, either."

Because... they can be used to... launch paper.

My goodness, I had no idea paper was so... DANGEROUS!!

I brainstormed for a bit, then said, "Okay, fine, I've got some fabric, I'll make a bag."

The Husbandly One said, "That will take too much effort, and you don't have enough time. Besides, your sewing machine is broken, right?"

Well, the bobbin case is... acting up. Driving me nuts, actually. I need to replace it, but you know, at that time of night, it wasn't going to happen. Well, I went to work on my sewing machine, fixed the problem with the thread tension, got the bobbin case to stay put, and dug out the fabric, a roll of parchment, and my sewing box, and got to work.

Yes, I had to make a pattern. And I was up until nearly 2 a.m. working on it, because the bobbin case kept popping out every time the bobbin got too light (too little thread on it), because the handles I was making for the bag didn't turn out right, and I had to figure out how to re-do them, because one of the cats dumped out the entire contents of my sewing box on the floor (I'm still not sure I retrieved it all) and because I had to hand-sew one side of the bag.

But I did it. And I'll have a photo of it later on this afternoon. I would have taken a photo this morning, but the Husbandly One did not inform me he was having to leave early until ten minutes before he was going to leave, and that left me with no time for picture taking at all.

I will say it is not beautiful, or the most attractive bag I've ever made... but it's functional, and when the Impertinent Daughter saw it this morning, rather than being horrified by it, as I was fearing, she was delighted and immediately started drawing on it. She's very proud of it and happy with it, and I am relieved and wish I could very much go back to bed for a few hours BUT...

Miss Priss has a UIL Choir performance this afternoon AND a soccer game immediately after, and it's an away game. And I still have errands to run.

Caffeine... I must ingest mass quantities of caffeine today.

Oh, and I have a battle wound from sewing last night. I sewed my finger. Ouchies!! Next time, I shall be sure to keep my fingers far, far away from the needle!!

*goes in search of caffeine*

At the moment, I celebrate just because...

Mr. Manzie's math grade dropped from an 88 average to 34. This after bringing his language arts score up from an 87 to a 95. So... I've started focusing on his math a little more and he's brought it back up to a 78 so far. So... YAY, IMPOSSIBLE SON!! More work ahead, but so far, so good!

Thank heavens for home-made flash cards, Nintendo DS Math Trainer, pennies, Legos, and mental math games played in the car.

I love the conversations we have in the mornings on the way to school. Sometimes they start out funny, sometimes they don't. Sometimes we don't talk at all, all three of us sort of huddled in our seats, not quite awake, and not quite sociable yet. But every once in a while, we're all awake, and peppy, and you never know what's going to set us off.

So, this morning, we're walking out the door, and the Impossible Son was moving a little slow (any slower and he woulda been goin' backwards), and I was keeping an eye out for Calcifer. Calcifer does not like his kids leaving the house. He hates it. He most especially hates it because they're leaving... without him! He'd probably be fine if he could go to school with them, and does not understand why he can't go, too. He doesn't like it when they go outside to play, again without him, either. This has resulted in our having to keep an Instrument of Cat Discipline by the door (it's a squirt bottle with water and about a teaspoon of apple cider vinegar in it, just enough to smell to a cat).

So, the Impertinent One had walked out and left the door wide open, and I had to rush up to it before Calcifer could, and because I'm funny that way, I shouted, "Back, Simba, back!" while grabbing the water bottle and aiming a few squirts at him.

Picture one orange cat with a wrinkled up moue of disgust, fleeing rapidly back into the kitchen.

Mr. Impossible started laughing. "Back, Simba, back?" he quoted back at me. "Why'd you say that?"

I laughed, too. "I dunno, guess I got Tarzan on the brain or something."

"Tarzan doesn't say that," he said, walking past me to go outside. "There's only that leopard, and I don't think he had a name."

It was then I realized how remiss I've been in my childrens' educations. They've never seen any of the old Tarzan movies, or the television series! I'm a terrible mother!!

"Well, Mr. Manzie, there was a live action TV series about Tarzan when I was a kid, and he seemed to say, 'Back, Simba, back!' an awful lot." I followed him out to the car. "In fact, I think every single lion he ran into was named Simba. No matter where he was, if he ran into a lion, it was always, 'No, Simba!' and 'Back, Simba!' and 'Stop chewing on that man's leg, Simba!' No matter how many lions he met!"

Mr. Manzie nearly fell out of the car, laughing, and the Impertinent Daughter said, "What the heck are you guys talking about??"

So, I filled her in, and also started talking about the movies, and Johnny Weismuller, and how it seemed just about every guy they got to play Tarzan after him seemed to be an Olympic swimmer, like it was a job requirement. And we talked about Tarzan's animal vocabulary, which seemed to primarily consist of the word, "Unk!"

"Unk?" said my son. "What does that mean?"

"Who knows?" I said, heading toward the junior high. "It was sort of utilitarian word, meaning whatever he wanted it to me, I guess. Unk, Tantor! could mean 'stop charging!' or 'please get off my foot, you're killing it!' Unk, unk! could mean, 'back off,' or 'I'm going to rip your guts out through your nose,' or 'don't even think about touching my sandwich!' Very flexible word, unk."

At this point, my kids are semi-hysterical. "And it worked??" said my daughter in disbelief.

"Oh, yeah, all the time. It was a movie, you know." I just grinned. "Of course, Tarzan has changed a lot."

"I know!!" said my son, still laughing. "I mean, the Tarzan we saw isn't like that at all!"

He is referring, of course, to Disney's Tarzan, not the Tarzan of Edgar Rice Burroughs' novels, alas. So, we talked about how different that Tarzan is from the Tarzan I had grown up with (because my mother loved old movies), and my daughter frowned and said, "Yes, but why is he different?"

"Well,"I said, thinking a little harder than I'm accustomed to that early and without as much caffeine as I usually require, "I think that's because in the movies I grew up with, there still wasn't a lot known about gorillas. They're kind of shy, and hard to find, and when people did finally find them and see them, the gorillas were frightened and did their best to make the intruders go away. So, the Tarzan in the movies was sort of rough, and macho, and domineering, did a lot of chest beating and posturing, and his movements were sort of jerky. But in the sixties and seventies, Jane Goodall and Dian Fossey started observing and studying chimpanzees and gorillas and found out that they weren't like that at all. That they were actually rather gentle and quiet when they were just among themselves and didn't feel frightened or threatened. So, the Disney version of Tarzan sort of reflects that research. What's he like?"

"Well," said Mr. Manzie. "He's quiet. And he's slow and gentle. And curious."

"Very curious," I said.

"But very protective," said Miss Priss. "He protects his family."

"Yes, just like the gorillas do," I said, nodding.

I thought that part of the conversation was over when Miss Priss got out at her school, but Mr. Manzie had another question for me.

"How come people didn't know that about gorillas back when your movies were being made?"

I didn't bother to correct him, seeing as those movies were made in the thirties and forties. "Well, Little Man, that was because no one ever thought of just going into the rain forest to observe them quietly, right there in their own habitat."

"Why?"

Why was I being required to think so early in the morning?? "Well, because in those days, that wasn't considered a valid form of research. It was thought that no one could observe animals without projecting their own thoughts and feelings onto the creatures they were watching. And no one wanted to invest the time, because it required a great deal of time and patience to watch animals in the wild."

"I watch the squirrels in our backyard all the time!"

"They are fun to watch," I agreed, "but... would you want to sit and watch them and do nothing else all day? Not play on your Nintendo, not run around the yard pretending to be ninjas, or chasing Bigfoot, or kicking around the soccer ball, just... sitting on the grass being very, very quiet for hours and hours, watching and waiting for the squirrels to do something."

"That would be boring!"

"Yes, and that is why it requires a whole lot of patience to be an animal researcher! And we are here, and it's time for you to go to school!!" I said, pulling up to his school's drop-off area.

Should I feel a teensy bit guilty that he asked, when he hugged me goodbye, "Why can't learning stuff in school be this fun?"

"I think it sometimes is, kiddo," I said, handing him his backpack. "You just don't always remember that."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, and got out of the car. And as he ran to the doors of the cafeteria, I couldn't help but wonder if I should have home-schooled him after all.

Then my sanity returned, and I just started thinking of projects we could do on our own. Yes, that works out much better...

There are times when I am forcefully confronted with the differences between my children.

I am very much aware that my kids are two different people. After all, look at the names I've given them; the Impertinent Daughter and the Impossible Son. She is inventive, a quick thinker, a little brash at times, stubborn, loving, and though a bit prickly at times, she has a good heart. He is generous, never met a stranger, quirky, stubborn, good natured, and easily hurt at times. And both of them are very bright, full of mischief, and transparent as water (fortunately for me).

But... they are two different people.

Today, I was trying to help Mr. Manzie with his math homework. Now, our district has a light to no homework policy for students. This is very frustrating for me as I see homework as (1) practice for the kids and (2) a way for parents to keep up with what they're learning in the classroom and, more importantly, how it is being taught. Since he always brings home spelling words, and a reading assignment, I only have a very vague idea what they're doing in math, though I do try to keep up by hitting the school's website, hitting his teacher's webpage, and then taking time to talk to his teacher as much as possible. Still, as I said, it gives me a very vague idea what he is doing in class.

So, when he came home with a D, tottering very close to an F, in math, well... I wasn't surprised, but I was frustrated. We've been going over flash-cards, and math problems on the computer, etc... but... we evidently missed something.

He brought math homework home today (after I asked the teacher between clenched teeth to please send something related to the math they were doing in class home so I can help him), and, well...

My kids are two different people.

Logic works on the Impertinent Daughter. If you said to her, "9 + 9 = 18, so if you take 9 away from 18, that would be?" and she'd frown, thinking, then say, "It's 9." You say that to the Impossible Son, and he looks up at you, smiles, and says, "Um... 17?"

So, you rephrase it and say, "If 9 + 9 = 18, then 18 - 9 =...?"

"Um... 19?"

I had to remind myself that in a lot of ways, he's a more visually oriented person than Miss Priss is. And that logic doesn't work on him.

Why do I say this? ( You might want to pass this part up, Em. Breastfeeding references here... )

I had to keep that in mind while trying to help him with his math homework. And I'm not saying I've figured it out yet, but heck, if I have to, I will dig out the Legos to get him over his mental hump, especially since they are working with adding and subtracting double digits. Think visual aids, Auntie!

I just have to remind myself, what works with one child won't necessarily work with the other because... they are two different people.

*sigh*

The kids are back in school, the Husbandly One is back at work, and I have the house to myself once again. It's quiet, peaceful, and chilly. Though, it's amazing how much the house warmed up when I remembered to reverse the ceiling fans again and set them on slow. I had re-set them to the summer position (clockwise) just before Christmas because... it was warm and muggy.

I think that should have told me right there that Christmas was going to be off this year. The weekend before Christmas had been so cold, the way it's supposed to be... and then Christmas Eve day had been so warm I was actually wandering around the house barefoot and in shorts. Sweating.

*shakes head*

In fact, it stayed warm all the way until yesterday morning. The times I've worn my hoodie since Christmas has been because it's been cold indoors, like at the hospital in San Marcos. Or because I was experiencing personal winter.

Right now, though, I'm cold because it's cold outside. It's raining and 34 degrees. Great for the first day back to school, right?

I'm relieved, though. Time to myself is writing time, and I am very badly backed up where that is concerned. I mean, I've been writing, but in dribs and drabs. I think the last thing I posted was the follow-up to "A Visit," and then, the piece I wrote for harry_holidays. I'm working on more original stuff than fan fiction, these days, and I suppose that's only natural. My little notebook, which I keep in my purse, is full not only of the notes I keep to myself, reminding myself of phone numbers, things I need to do, and all the other things I have to write down in order to remember them (I call it my "low tech Blackberry"), but it is also full of writing notes. Story ideas, plots, drabbles, you name it. I've learned to jot such things down the moment they pop into my head, or at least as soon as possible, because many times, they flutter right back out, which is frustrating.

For example, on one page, I've scribbled, "My dreams were full of fire and smoke, heat curling the edges of a paper I held in my hands, smoke that burned my throat as I tried to peer through it, trying to figure out where I was, and why I was there. Even after I woke up, and started about my day, smoke seemed to permeate everything, hazing my vision as I walked outside for the paper, making my throat and chest ache ..."

I have no idea where I was going with that, nor what the heck I'm going to do with it.

How about this little tidbit? ...

He stared up at Draco, shivering as even the warming charms couldn’t warm his failing body any longer. Draco held his hand, staring back, trying to memorize every single detail of his face, of his eyes, of the way he just… looked. James swallowed, reaching up to touch Draco’s jaw. “Who wants to live… forever… anyway,” he rasped as tears filled the dark eyes.

Draco lifted the frail hand to his lips. “I don’t,” he whispered. “Not without you.”

James’ pale lips trembled. “I… I would do it… if I could… for you, Draco… I swear I would…”

“I know, love, Shhhhh,” said Draco, letting his own tears fall. “Shhhh… I know you would…”

“I tried so hard, Draco,” he whispered, the tears finally beyond his control and spilling from his eyes. “I tried so hard to live… I did…”

“I know…”

“I want to live,” he said, fiercely. “I… I want to live, Draco… and… and be with you…”

“I know, James…” He closed his eyes, kissing the hand in his, pressing it to his wet cheeks. “I want… so much with you, James. But… I’m grateful for what we’ve had.”

“I’m not,” said James, almost angrily. When Draco looked at him, startled, he closed his eyes. “I want more… I’m greedy, I want… I want more… it’s not enough…”

Hermione was sobbing quietly into Ron’s chest, and Ron was watching them with a dull-eyed despair. Harry had turned away from Ginny and was staring resolutely out the window, almost past his endurance.

“I love you,” whispered Draco. “I have loved you since the first moment I saw you, on the train in third year. I have known you were the one from the moment you fell in my lap that day, and… I never stopped hoping, somehow, someway… that… that we would…”

“Draco,” James whispered, and Draco stopped, staring at him, then he stood.

“No! No, not yet, not now, James, no, you can’t! You can’t die yet, please, baby, please… one more minute, please… I love you, don’t go, don’t leave me… James, James, please, please!!!!”

James stared at him intently. “I… I love… you… love you… always… love… my Draco… love…” and then he was struggling to suck in a breath, trying to breathe, his eyes focused so hard on Draco, who wanted to shout for a healer, but didn’t want to look away, didn’t want to waste that last moment, the very last moment he’d see love and life in those beautiful, luminous eyes. Slowly, the focus shifted, he was staring at Draco, but no longer seeing him, his eyes on some far horizon, and on a rasping, wheezing exhale, he breathed, “Free…” and was gone.

“James!” The wail was ripped from Draco’s heart, and he fell forward on the still breast, sobbing. “James! James, oh, gods, James…”

???

Who the heck is James, and what was I thinking when I wrote this? I've left no clues to myself, and yet, there it is. Nice little bit, a bit sobby, a bit schmaltzy, maybe a bit cathartic, but...*shrugs*


Then there's this lovely little piece that looks promising... if I can just figure out where I was going with it...

When Brian, exasperated beyond bearing, found Joshua, it was after hearing music drift down the stairs. Some sort of stringed instrument by the sound of it. He followed the elusive notes up the stairs, around a corner, and up another set of stairs hidden behind a tapestry until he found himself on a rooftop platform. His host was perched on the railing, one knee up, one leg down, while his back was braced against a column that provided support for an even higher platform. His face was turned toward the setting sun as he cradled a mandolin against his belly, his fingers moving idly over the neck as he played only to amuse himself, eyes lost to imaginary wanderings that left his lips upturned in a quiet smile...

Like I said, I have no idea where I was going with that.

I'm awfully glad THO is accustomed to living with a writer, even to the point of helping me do research from time to time. Though, really, he kinda enjoys helping me do some of that research...

Though I would like to know why I wrote "Expresso/no expresso, cheese, sandwich, no filler..."

*ponders*

Nope. Nothing. No idea, really. I imagine if any of you tried to plumb my mind, you would find it an inconveniently dark, slightly damp, and completely confusing place. With unexpected corners. And Labrador Retrievers bounding up to knock you over and drool on your shoes. Or something like that.

Yes, I am going into writing mode. Can you tell? Well, I'm off to huddle over my keyboard for an incomprehensible two or so hours, and then I'll be much more coherent and together. I hope.

Distractedly,

Auntie

Every time I have a parent-teacher conference with one of my kids' teachers, I usually come back with extremely mixed feelings. On the one hand, I feel proud (and relieved) that my child is doing well, that he/she is not causing major disruptions in the classroom, or eating paste from the jars, etc. But on the other hand, when the teacher discusses one of the few problems my child is having, I usually end up wanting to bash my head into something, or head to the state department of education and start banging other people's heads together and ask, "What the hell are you people thinking??"

Today, it was the Impossible Son's second grade teacher, and I was glad to hear my son is getting better at sitting still in class, at focusing on his work, at taking his time, though he still rushes through things.

He is having a problem in math. Mostly, it's the rushing thing. He'll get the first part right, then start on the second part of his work, see that he's getting close to the end, and then start rushing because he just wants to get done. And he gets those problems wrong.

But then... there's the other thing. Teacher points out that he's having trouble with the section they're working on now, that is teaching associations and groupings. Okay, I said, so what's going on?

She decides to give me an example and pulls out one of his tests to show me a specific problem he had trouble with.

"Cecilia is having 9 people over for dinner. She has six places set at her table. How many more places does Cecilia need to set at her table for 9 people?"

Well, that seems like a pretty straightforward problem to me and in my head I think, "I know Mr. Manzie knows to think, okay, 9 - 6 = 3."

Then the teacher says, "And he's having trouble getting the right answer, which is right here," and she points at the multiple choice answers, where I see the above answer as option C. But that's not the answer. The answer is option A. And what is option A, you ask?

6 + 3 = 9.

Yes. You read that right. The answer to what is very clearly a subtraction problem is an addition answer.

I blinked and said, "Wait a minute. How can that be the answer?"

She grimaced and said, "Well, you see, the whole point of these problems is to teach the kids to associate all these numbers together. That 9 -6 =3, and 9 - 3 = 6, and 6 + 3 = 9, and 3 + 6 = 9 are all the same problem, all associated with each other."

I nodded, then said, "Okay, well, here's my question. How can he, or any other child in this class for that matter, possibly get that answer from what is obviously a subtraction problem? How can any kid read that and think, oh, I need to ADD to get this answer."

"Well, you see..."

"Okay, wait, wrong question," I said, seeing her getting a headache just thinking about this. "How many kids in this class actually got that problem right?"

"Well... none of them," she said.

I nodded, then said, "But, you're being required to teach it this way, aren't you?"

She looked so relieved. "Yes. I am."

"And they're not getting it."

"No."

"Can't you go ahead and teach it the right way, and then explain what they need to do?"

"No," and she looked very clearly frustrated. "I am required to teach it this way."

"Is it okay with you if I teach it the normal way?"

"YES!"

This is the point where I start thinking I should have just gone ahead and home-schooled my kids. Not for religious reasons, but because of stupid crap like this. When the Impertinent Daughter was in second grade, they were teaching this really odd... well, it's hard to describe, but basically, what it did was get the kid somewhere close to the answer, without actually getting the right answer. As in "close enough is good enough."

I had enough of that really fast and went ahead and taught her the algorithms to actually get the right answer, which were much easier than all the waffly, poofy, fluff-bunny crap they were confusing her with, and kept it up when she was in third grade. Because, of course, they were still teaching the fluff-bunny math. When she took the Math TAKS that year, she got the highest math grade out of all the third grade classes at her school. Gee... I wonder why?

I tell you, there are times when this school district drives me nuts. My daughter doesn't have homework, and she's not learning to write, at least not from school! My son is expected to have good handwriting, but the class only works on handwriting twice a week, for ten or fifteen minutes. And they're learning cursive this year. So that means that along with practicing his vocabulary words, and doing his reading (which is his actual homework), as well as going over his math homework, and practicing his addition and subtraction (which isn't homework, but work that I do with him to help him out), I will now be working on his handwriting with him...

They only assign him fifteen minutes worth of homework, but we end up working for about an hour to an hour and a half on just me supplementing what he should have gotten in class. And what are they doing in class? Well, he takes the TAKS for the first time next year. THAT is what they are working on, preparing him for the TAKS. And for those of you who don't know what the TAKS is, HERE is a link that explains it.

The Impertinent Daughter doesn't have homework, but... we've required her to bring her math work home so we can go over it with her. It just works out better that way. And I sometimes ask her to write something for me, and then go over it with her after, because... they're not teaching structure. She wasn't writing in paragraphs when we started. Or indenting. Or using quote marks.

Which makes me wonder what the hell they're teaching in "Language Arts."

Yeah, I'm pretty frustrated with the schools here, but we can't afford to move at this time. I guess we could suck it up and pay the extra fee to send them to school in Hays County, but the drive!! OMG!!

Nah, I'll just do what my mom did, and what I'm doing now. Half public school, half home-school.

*groans and tries to stave off impending Migraine of Doom*

Shoot me. Someone just... shoot me now!