I’m about to commit a mortal parental sin. I’m going to brag. You see, I’ve just returned from attending my first ever honor roll assembly for my daughter. I know it’s not a huge deal in the grand scheme of things. It has nothing to do with the price of milk on Tuesdays, or who is going to the Superbowl this year, or when the next Beyoncé album will be released. Shoot, in another year or so, I’ll no doubt be so over this kind of thing that I’ll force my husband to rochambeau for who has to go and sit through another one of these damn assemblies. But not today.
Today feels like a huge victory. Remember how we were tortured last year by one of the most vile, evil kindergarten teachers in America? Remember how she insinuated that although my daughter read at an “inappropriately high level,” she actually didn’t comprehend anything? Remember all the damn meetings I had to go to, feeling beaten, defensive, and oh so worried about my kid – that she was being bullied (and not just by the kids), that she would end up hating school, that she was trapped day in and day out with a woman who “never smiled” at her? Remember the bewilderment of figuring out what the hell a 504 Plan was – a nebulous version of an IEP that doesn’t seem to do much at all other than keep them from kicking your kid out of class for “regular” offenses? Remember my 4″ binder I kept, with every scrap of note, email, phone record, doctor’s record, journal article, and massive spreadsheet and trend graph based on the daily dots from the behavior chart – all ready to use as evidence if they tried to run my kid out of school? Today, those are just really bad memories.
Today my kid looked radiant. She was beaming, proud. She was calm. She felt wonderful about herself. Best of all, the Harpy was also in attendance. I didn’t look at her other than when she handed out the “hands and heart” award for her class. I don’t think she’s qualified. That woman has no heart.
I used to roll my eyes at those “my kid is an honor roll student” bumper stickers. I used to laugh at loud at those “my kid beat up your honor roll student” bumper stickers. Now, I want a bumper sticker, one that reads “my kid is an honor roll student, could kick your kids’ ass, and look gorgeous doing it all.”
Sorry. I’m done. Promise. Oh, and I just got another email that my kid aced another advanced reader quiz.
Sorry. I’m really done now.