No one likes to fail. Right? I don’t. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard someone say, “Oh boy! I’m so excited I failed!” Unless of course the test was some sadistic method of selection for an even harder test.
Wait…. isn’t that college in relation to grad school??? :O See? I told you I didn’t like failing, and look where it got me, in more school.
The end of the school year approaches for my minions of chaos. In fact, this year because mother nature slept through winter and spring has not unleashed any mighty storms of note, they did not use a single bad weather day. Not once in the last six years have they gotten out before the twenty-fifth of May, but this year is the exception. Friday marks the end of this year’s
drive-mom-insane-with-projects-and-homewhork-plan school year.
Dear Miss Diva has done well, as always. I pray that she remains this low maintenance at school. I deserve at least one child that requires minimal oversight.
Mr. Smarty-Pants has done better than last year. The struggle to find a decent middle school for him to attend woke him up to the importance of doing all his work rather than just the things he liked. I’m proud to announce that he was chosen to give a short speech at their 5th grade advancement ceremony. I might scoff at the inanity of such a ceremony, but I can still be proud he was picked. I’ve read his speech. Any parent or teacher with any sense will catch the sarcastic undertones which I’m not even sure he meant to put in there. He claims the school is “like family” and then proceeds to talk about a teacher reprimanding him and another that makes fun of students, as he is adamant about portraying the truth of his experience It is clear that he adored this year’s teacher, but his experience on the whole, from my perspective was less than stellar. If you don’t hear from me again, it’s because I was the victim of a mob of teachers and school-adoring parents. I can picture it now: surrounded by a mob with the advanced recorder class (to which Mr. Smarty-Pants also belongs and will be performing) playing a catchy, if slightly off-key tune in the background. Hmm…not quite how I wish to end things. Maybe I should bring my jo staff… just in case.
Little Miss Drama has done a wee bit better of late, but I believe it’s a case of too little too late. So, perhaps she’s remembering her underwear most days now, and nearly always turns in her homework…if she doesn’t forget it in the car or doesn’t lose the words. Considering her age, one of the youngest in her class, I’ve decided to hold her back. She is not pleased with this idea at all, but I’d rather she get another go and catch up with reading and arithmetic skills rather than go to second grade and fall even further behind.There’s a tiny possibility that this won’t happen, but that will involve a number of other things happening, like changing schools entirely. My beef is not with Little Miss Drama, but the school which teaches to tests, a teacher who won’t work with me, and a system not designed for a kinesthetic learner.
As for my academic pursuits, my lab-mate and I were griping about the dreaded qualifiers which we both have yet to take. A number of other departments have modified this into a mock research proposal, which is rather more realistic than walking into a room five days in a row and being handed five subsequent exams that can cover god-knows-what. How the heck do you study for that? We’re both hoping, albeit rather whimsically, that our department will magically decide to ditch this antiquated system of testing. I’m not going to hold my breath.