As you know (or don’t), I’m experiencing a rather weird situation.
Not the rash. That’s still a whole different story (any opportunity to use the word salve in a blog I take it… and I just did).
You may be thinking this must be weird for them, but who really cares.
The important thing is it’s weird for me.
And it’s my blog, so we are going to focus on my issues (but not all of them because of time constraints).
Having my daughter in her mother’s class struck me as odd from the very beginning.
It’s like prom.
I’ve said it before, the only good thing that can happen (for me… and I’m guessing you’re not surprised) is nothing bad happens.
A successful prom night for me is probably a boring night for the kids.
And I’m okay with that.
I feel the same about this “4th grade experiment”.
The only good thing that can come out of it is nothing bad happens.
No awkward Parent-Teacher Conferences. No uncomfortable holiday parties. No field trips where I have to chaperone and share a bus seat with 6 smelly kids over the course of an 18 hour day (which means 17 hours on the bus… 40 minutes in a museum…. and 20 minutes sitting at a picnic table eating a hot sandwich that’s supposed to be cold… probably in the rain).
When the school year started I envisioned a lot of crying.
I wasn’t sure by whom, but I figured one of the four of us would have some sort of breakdown (Buddy the Dog can be very emotional).
Much to my surprise, things have gone smoothly (I have the strange feeling I just jinxed myself).
I shouldn’t be surprised because this goes along with my theory on things almost always turn out just the opposite of what you expect (good and bad… so if you’re anticipating something good happening in the next few days… beware).
They both seem to be enjoying their year together, which means I get to enjoy my time at home.
The only thing that has struck me as odd is the Evil Spawn seems to be doing a year-long observation (the apple doesn’t fall far from the administrative tree).
Each night she comes home and critiques her mother’s performance.
It’s like getting a Broadway review after EVERY show.
Mom was interesting. Mom was okay. Mom was funny. Mom got annoyed. Mom got tickled. Mom seemed tired. Mom danced (ugh). Mom’s timing was just a little off when she delivered a punch line during the math lesson (again… apple… not far from the tree).
For me it’s been an opportunity to experience my wife teaching without being in the classroom.
For the evil one, it’s a once in a lifetime chance to spend an entire year with her mom watching what she does best (not dance).
But for my wife?
It’s a year-long evaluation at the dinner table.
Good thing she has tenure.