First Day of School report

A little late, I know...but here's the first day of school report.

Thankfully, they went to the right classrooms, and got off at the correct bus stop. However, the bus was running extremely late in the afternoon - like 40 minutes late. Apparently every other well-informed parent knew this would be so on the first day. As usual, I'm finding things out accidentally and/or after the fact.

So Jack was not a happy camper, reporting that it was hot and noisy. Julie the bus driver apparently lacks - at least in Jack's opinion - the intestinal fortitude necessary to quell the near-riots going on in the back of the bus. Is it that bad, really, Jack? I inquire skeptically (when the bus pulled up, I heard no such rioting...but then they'd had over an hour by then to get it out of their systems).

"MAH-AHM!!! YES IT IS I'M ABOUT TO THROW UP THEY WOULDN'T SHUT UP!"

Well, I say, I'm sure it will be better tomorrow. By the way, who's they?

They, as Jack so impatiently explained to his ignorant mother, are the middle-school boys who live in our apartment complex, and are "so retarded they should not be allowed to ride the bus besides you should be taking me to school anyway Mom whyyyyy can't you get in the car and drive us to school that way I won't have to get feeling like I'm gonna throw up when they are so loud! and besides Julie just says be quiet and doesn't do anything else!" All of this was said in his head voice, three whiny octaves above normal. I mean, veins are starting to pop out in his neck he is straining so much. Relaying this information in a normal voice is not an appropriate option in which to make me understand, I guess. Of course it's also accompanied by the flailing of arms, and exasperated slapping of the thighs with his hands.

Hmmm.

"How was class, though?'"

"MAH-AHHHHMMMMM! Did you hear what I was sayingggggg!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am going to throw up if I have to ride the bus with them again!"

The ignoring technique was not working.

"Uh, yes Jack, I heard you, as did the rest of Chester County. Can you please talk to me in a little quieter voice, and maybe with not as much arm-waving? I heard you about the bus. There is nothing I can do about it right now. It's over, and you don't look - or act like you are about to throw up at this minute. I'm sorry you had to endure that. The bus was very late today, and I don't expect it to happen again. You however, will ride the bus again, as no one takes their child to school in their car, ok? Everybody rides the bus - the school discourages parents from taking their kids to school themselves and strongly encourages bus transportation, ok? Besides, you'll make friends a lot quicker and easier if you are riding on the bus with them and are not the only child whose mother drives him to school, ok? So let's talk about something else, like how you liked your teacher." I reply in my best motherly voice.

"MAH-AHHMMMMM!" More arm-flailing, backpack slinging, and exasperated teeth gnashing and general disgruntlement.

Diplomacy was not working, either.

Turning on my heels, and walloping Katie with Jack's backpack I just confiscated to avoid just that, I bend down and at his eye level, enlighten Jack on what will happen to his backside, his Wii, and his freetime if he does not STOP TALKING LIKE THAT and start speaking to me in a calmer voice. Veins may have popped out on MY neck for a minute...

Finally he's quiet.

Back to the ignoring technique.

"Katie, how did you like your new class?"

"It's ok. I sat by Henry."

"Is he cute?"

Giggles...then, "Mom! I don't know!!"



"Did you meet any of the girls in the class?"

"Yessss....I met Ava, and Molly. They are in my class."

"Are Ava and Molly your friends?"

"Yes!"


Ok! Great...a real conversation with my daughter about school. She genuinely seemed pleased. On the way up the 273,487 steps to our apartment, I asked her how the bus ride was. She conceded it was a little hot, and long, but didn't make it out to be the federal case that Jack had.

Later that night, all tucked in bed and with the lights off, she would confide to me in a giggly whisper that the "school has rules. Mrs. Ansel (her teacher) told them to us." She was covering her mouth with her hands, and pulled up her shoulders - you know that look little girls take on when they are about to impart to you a secret fit for a national treasure. I wasn't sure why this was so funny, until she followed with, "And one of them is no kissing!" I laughed and pulled her close to me, grateful she was still young and innocent. Of course, I also wondered why the school felt it so critical that it bore going over on the first day of school, but unfortunately could imagine a few scenarios that might have prompted said rule and first-day discussions.

After Jack calmed down and felt his stomach had settled, I was able to pry from him such tidbits as, "Class is ok." And other jewels like, "It's fine."



Since we parents are practically banned from the premises, it is kind of difficutl to glean much information about his teacher, classroom, the atmosphere in the class, etc. I suppose that if a major tragedy had occurred, the topic du jour would not have been the noise level on the bus, or the "no kissing" rule; therefore, I can only deduce that they are fairly comfortable in their new school. This week is "Open House" at the school, a rare opportunity for a parent/persona non grata to check out the place. I'm looking forward to meeting Katie's neighbor Henry, and getting a second look at their classrooms, so check back in for the Open House report...should be fairly entertaining since Dan is in N'ahlens all week for work and I have to take ALL THREE to both Katie's and Jack's open house. OF COURSE they are on separate nights... I can only pray Dan enjoys his week of solitude since I plan on disappearing for no less than seven - ten hours when he gets back.