Open House at Sarah W. Starkweather, PART I

Categorically, universally, without a doubt, it was one of my worst decisions ever. I will never forgive myself. If I can find someone to do it, I need 40 lashes with a cat o'nine tails. I took all three to Open House Monday night for 1st grade (Katie's class).

In my own defense, I didn't think I had a choice. Dan had just left the previous morning for a week, and given my limited opportunities to set foot inside the school, I wanted to meet her teacher again and hear what was going on in the class. Jack also had baseball practice (for fall ball - we found a league up here) at 6:00, but I had talked to a few of the other moms at his game Sunday and realized we were all in the same situation - too many activities scheduled at the same time. And since I'm single-mom'n it, I decided we'd forego baseball practice, but I did not want to miss the Open House.

Well.

SOMEONE or SOMEBODIES took for granted that we all knew how this was going to go down...or just forgot to tell me I should just stay home and try to catch up later.

It all started innocently enough. I laid out the ground rules before we got out of the car. Make good choices, don't run off, be quiet while the teacher is speaking, or face certain death when we get home.

A sign directs us to the gym/cafeteria. It's lecture-style at first, with the principal discussing how we fared last year vis-a-vis other PA schools, the 2009-2010 parent survey in which 89% of parents said they approved of Starkweather's safety policies (Really? How couldn't they? The place is locked down tighter than Fort Knox), and other similarly stimulating bits of information. All fine and good, stuff I would ordinarily want to know and might even take notes on, but I had all three people, PLUS two of Katie's friends sitting with me (before you judge - NO I DID NOT INVITE THEM I AM NOT THAT CRAZY). By the grace of God, I had a small notebook in my purse and a ziploc bag of crayons - I have learned to be prepared for any contingency - and this occupied all three girls for the entire time. The boys, on the other hand, were not satisfied unless a national emergency was broadcast to the entire crowd, or they were inflicting pain on someone in the tri-state area.

As an aside, what is it with girls and coloring? We could probably drive Katie to Alaska with a box of crayons and couple of pieces of paper, whereas we can not drive the boys down the street without property damage or severe personal injury.

It's interesting that at some point during the "lecture" I looked around and thought how easy it would be to give a summation or opening statement to them if they were in a courtroom. Or how much more comfortable I might feel if I were speaking about juvenile law, or if I were voir-diring them for jury selection. And I thought I was sooo smart - I chose the very back seats, where the cafeteria tables were set up so that they would have a surface on which to color. It seemed to be a magnet for Katie's friends, which was fine. But the boys didn't find the principal's power point presentation very interesting, and had significant trouble sitting still. Or keeping their hands to themselves. Or staying seated. Or generally not acting like rabid, feral monkeys.

Promptly at 7:30, the principal said we were "dismissed to our classrooms." Huh?? I thought I was done with school...I'm starting to feel a little nervous...

The boys want a drink. Katie and her friend want to go on to the room.
( I did manage to snap this photo with my phone of Katie and her friend as they darted down the hall - they were holding hands!!!)

I stupidly say ok, go on. By the time I find the right hall with Jack tagging along still asking for water, I find that Cole, Katie and her friend are zooming down the hall shrieking like banshees. They screech to a halt at the door of Katie's classroom, where, when I finally - nervously - approach it, find Katie's teacher with her arms spread out as if she is keeper of the gate. As she is shushing them and saying, "Whoah, whoah, whoah..." she realizes that I am guardian of at least one of these hoodlums, and shows only slight relief. I grab Cole up, and notice that all of the other parents are seated at their children's desks, and there are only three other children in the room. I'm suddenly feeling somewhat hot...

I have to cross what seems to be an enormous expanse to get to Katie's desk in the back. I sat down in her chair, next to Henry's parents, who I can only pray are kind and forgiving people. Teacher is babbling about sign this...your child wrote you a note...learning to read...blah blah blah I DO NOT KNOW WHAT ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH SHE SAID. For all I know, she said she was about to give birth to a litter of kittens. And frankly, I probably would not have noticed, for Israel and Palestine were really going at it it this time. Why I sat there more than one minute I will never know.

Two other children whose parents are not paying one frigging iota of attention are pecking away at the keyboards for the computers, while Katie loudly and indignantly proclaims, "WE ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO TOUCH THE COMPUTERS WE ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO TOUCH THE COMPUTERS WE ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO TOUCH THE COMPUTERS," while I try to whisper to her that I can't help what those children do, don't worry about it, etc. All the while, Cole is wriggling around and though I try to hold him or pull him close, he seems to have lost all bone mass. His body has mysteriously turned to taffy. Disgruntled, uncontrollable taffy no less. He manages to slink out of my lap and make it under the forbidden computer table, and commences to disconnect/rearrange the 18,000 computer cords. I actually have to get on the floor and pull him out from under the kid-sized table.

The two children pecking on the computer keyboards are now alternating between that and with trying to perform circus tricks, and Katie takes a break from her announcements to ask me for water. I advise her she is going to have to wait, but she does not relent. I inform her she will not die if denied water, but she insists that yes, she WILL die if she doesn't get water and that it will be my fault!

Jack is now asking for a quarter for the pencil machine (what??), and pleading for a drink of water. WHAT IS IT WITH THESE PEOPLE AND WATER!!!!!!!!!

The rest of it is a blur, but I know it involved death threats, and sweaty palms. I finally carried (actually, he was half-slung over my shoulder) Cole out to the hall, with Jack and Katie trailing behind, and the teacher still talking. I waited a minute, and before I could form any rational thoughts, the teacher concluded. Hesitantly I trudged back in and gathered the papers and my purse, and we left. I left. Without getting to speak to her teacher!

Mercifully, we made it to the Suburban with no more fanfare. I was exhausted. And, I still had Open House coming up for Jack's class...