Ok, the first thing you'll notice is that I actually, yes, numbered this post. That is because I am fearful that this is the first of many trips to the principals office. I know that I, as a child, unfortunately became very familiar with the inside of Mr. Levin's office for various things such as: leading the entire 7th grade class down Main Street because I happened to be at the beginning of the line during an all-school walk to the high school. Mr Woodham, who was (what seemed to a 7th grader to be about 95 years old ) was the teacher in charge and the poor man was near a stroke by the time we got to the school. He was, regrettably, the same man who fell victim to Leslie Shindley's idea of a fun game called "Lets Hide From Mr Woodham" in his math class which was held right after lunch. He'd walk in, and I'd wrangled the entire class into closets and cabinets around the classroom. I'd hide in the closet directly behind his desk and as he'd enter the room, sit down and wonder "Where is my class?" I'd shoot out of the closet screaming and laugh as I watched him jump with fright. That was followed by the rest of the class bursting out and again, I'd see Mr Levin. But man was it worth it. I'm still laughing ....
However, when you have children you're supposed to teach them right, teach them the err of your ways. But, is there a certain "ornery gene" that gets passed on? Or is it karma?
Maysen doesn't "need" to ride the bus. He rides because he absolutely loves it. We live a mile from the school, so whatever. On Thursday last week his bus driver asked to speak to me when she dropped him off.
Uh Oh.
"I've been telling Maysen over and over again that he cannot stand up in the seats, or frog hop from seat to seat while the bus is moving. He really should get a citation for this, but I wanted to talk to you". Frog hop? That resulted in him being grounded from riding the bus for 2 school days.
Then yesterday I came home from a long day at work to see a mysterious envelope on my counter. "To the Parents of Maysen" so sterile, so blatant, so ... stark. The envelope was a business envelope from "Principal JR". I felt a sense of nervousness come over me as though I were the student. As I read the report marked "MAJOR ACTION" I began reading how my son "spit on other peer's food during lunch, which will result in mandatory lunch-time in Principal's office for the next 2 days". Oh Lord. Spitting?
At first he refused to tell me what happened. Tears welled up in his eyes and I could tell he was ashamed. After much prodding (and threatening of losing Wii privileges) he explained to me that his friend, D, had spit (or so he thought) on C's food, so because D is his friend, he did it too. Apparently D only "faked" spitting but Maysen had followed through. Oh the betrayal Maysen felt to find out that D had "faked me out". I have to admit I feel a bit sorry for the poor chap, eating in the Principal's office all alone. Perhaps maybe he'll wander over and spit in JR's food if she looks away ....
