Some Pig

The Best Of Both Worlds! Okay, Maybe Not.

Today a friend of mine (also coincidentally named Elaine) relayed a recent play on words:

Daughter:  Mommy, you rock!  You're a rock star!

Friend:  I know!  I'm Hannah Momtana!

[Supply your own rim shot here...]

Are Your Allergies Hurting You? Because They're Killing Me.

The back story:  I enjoyed two allergen-avoidance-free weeks at Celeste's new preschool this year before it was announced that one of her little compatriots is deathly allergic to peanuts and sesame seeds.  Well, he's definitely allergic to sesame seeds, and maybe peanuts, they're not sure about the peanuts because the kid's never actually had a reaction to peanuts or peanut products, but he had an allergen sensitivity test and he tested positive for peanut allergies, so they're treating him like he's allergic even though they don't know. So earlier in the week I mistakenly made a real peanut butter sandwich for India (who's not in the same classroom) and I didn't have enough bread to make her a new sandwich, so I sent it in anyway after a panicked email to the exceptionally kind and extremely talented preschool teacher, who said that would be fine. 

Email sent from the Pig household:

Dear Saintly Preschool Head Teacher Who Should Be Canonized: 

It is 10:18 p.m. and I just got out the bread my lovely husband bought for sandwiches and it is COVERED IN SESAME SEEDS OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO KILL HIM.  And we have not one single other thing that I can give the girls for lunch SO I have cut the crusts off the bread BUT you might want to have Celeste eat her lunch outside her classroom.  Maybe you can sell it as she gets to visit her sister for a special treat during lunch???  Anyway, I am SO SORRY to inconvenience you because between that and the real-peanut-butter peanut-butter-sandwich episode of ’09 just the other day I am sure I am rapidly becoming “THAT MOTHER” since we both know that every classroom of kids has at least one and probably more.   

I am eagerly awaiting Thanksgiving break.  

Thank you for your understanding and patience.  You probably need more patience with the parents than you do with the kids sometimes.  

Love,

Caroline

And now it is 10:45 (10:45! On a school night!).  I'm going to go to bed, and dream of a day when every individual in this house is personally responsible for his or her own damn lunch.

All The World's a Stage (And For $2500, You Can Be On It, Too)

I ran into a teacher friend in the halls, a very accomplished singer and musician who is also one of the most levelheaded, fair-minded people I know.  "How's the musical going?" I inquired of "Kay"*.  I got a roll of the eye and a heave of a sigh for response.  "I got an email from a parent about our casting," she said. 

One of the many things that makes Kay such a gem is the fact that she is willing, nay, eager, to help stage the middle school musical.  Every. Year.  Do you have any idea what it's like to get twenty middle schoolers organized and focused for forty minutes every day?  Try to imagine it.  Now try to imagine FOUR TIMES THAT NUMBER of students for TWO HOURS AT A STRETCH, and you have musical practice.  Furthermore, the musical has a very low threshold of exclusivity.  Do you want to be in the musical?  Okay, you're in the musical!  Do you want to sing, despite a near-total dearth of musicality?  That's fine, you can be in the chorus!  Are you too shy to show your face on stage, but you're longing for the roar of the greasepaint and the smell of the crowd?  Come be a stage hand!  If the musical doesn't have enough parts for everyone, they'll make up a part for you, right down to the third lady's maid's sister's understudy. 

However, this being Upper Socioeconomic Middle School, located in the land of competitive parenting, there is always going to be an element that COMPLETELY LOSES ALL PERSPECTIVE around events like this.  Because while anyone can be in the musical, there are parts to be won (or lost) and bragging (or complaining) rights at stake.  so while parts for the third lady's maid's sister's understudy abound, there are always only a few true lead roles to go around, and that's where the heartache begins.

Kay told me that one particular student did not get a lead role this year.  This student considers herself to be quite the budding thespian (a perspective that has been actively encouraged, if not originally instilled, by her mother). She had won a lead role last year and thought herself a shoo-in for the lead.  When she did not get the lead, she approached Kay and asked why she didn't get it.  Kay repeated to her what she told all the kids, that she tries to fit the best student to the best part.  Then "Sarah" asked her if there were any lead roles left over.  The only role left was that of a larger, unattractive older woman, which Kay told Sarah was still open if she wanted to consider it.

Well, after that all hell broke loose, transmitted via e-communication.  Sarah's mother sent Kay a screed telling her (Kay) how TRAUMATIZED Sarah was by this and asking how DARE Kay tell her that she wasn't as good as some of the other students who tried out and how could she be so CRUEL and HEARTLESS as to suggest her daughter was UNATTRACTIVE by offering her that role and blah blah blah self esteem yada yada yada you shouldn't be around children blah. The mother then haughtily informed Kay that her little Sarah happened to be working with a talent agency that happened to think that this was a very talented young lady who would go on to have a brilliant career as an actress.  So there.

Here's what she failed to leave out:  This "talent agency" that is praising Sarah's acting to the skies?  Is a private "acting and modeling academy" to which this family has paid THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS over the past two years for "lessons".  And what has this institution managed to accomplish on Sarah's behalf?  Well, she's been an extra in a movie or two.  Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but from what I understand, being an extra entails getting paid a pittance to stand around for hours basically being yourself and reacting to what's going around you, or not reacting, whatever the director decides.  So after months and months of academy fees, and weekly travel back and forth to the nearest larger metropolitan area, and paying for head shots and whatever, the kid's skills were honed to the point where she was eminently qualified to... stand around???

This is where I lose my sh!t.

Dear readers, you know I love my India and my Ceecee past the point of rationality.  They are as the stars in the sky and the earth under my feet.  I think they are clever and talented and beautiful and fascinating.  TO ME.  But if I ever, ever start blogging about how they are America's Next Top (fill-in-the-blank here) and I know this because the expensive private instructor I hired told me so, will you please please please reach through your computer screen and smack some sense into me???  Really, are there that many suckers born every minute that these parents don't GET IT?  OF COURSE the acting academy thinks Sarah is the next Dakota Fanning, because that's how they get the money out of you!  But don't think for a moment that it's limited to music and acting, oh no no no.  My friend the baseball coach has to deal with it too, when parents sidle up to him in tryouts and oh-so-casually mention that "Brandon's AAU coach says he's going to be their top pitcher this year."  Yeah?  So?  The only way AAU makes its money is by finding parents who are willing to pony up bucks for their kid to play on a team!  Sure, your kid may be the best pitcher on his AAU team, but that's no guarantee of anything!  That's why I changed dance schools for my kids, because the school we were attending pushes the competition team crap hard.  They make a big deal about "tryouts" to make it sound exclusive and elite, but in reality, they're just divided among a couple teams: Girls who can dance, girls who can sorta dance, and girls who suck but whose moms are willing to pay for the mandatory four different dance classes per session!   Really, is it that hard to figure out??

Let me offer you some perspective on this:  Everyone is better at some things than others.  Lots of kids have talent.  Some kids have a lot of talent.  But only one in a zillion has a truly remarkable talent.  What's more, that talent is usually accompanied by a big work ethic and extraordinary focus at a very young age (sometimes that work ethic and focus is the parents' and not the kid's, but that's another post).  If you're spending thousands of dollars on soccer camp and hotels and travel and all that crap and your kid gets cut from the freshman team, that should be a clear signal to put away the Division I season pass order forms and tell your kid to start hitting the books.  And don't bring up the old "Michael Jordan got cut from his freshman basketball team" story to me, because that's an outlier - as proven by the fact that it's the only counterargument you have.  Now, if your kid loves doing x, and you want to pay for it, great!  It's good for kids to have a positive activity to focus on.  But don't think that just because you spend a small fortune you can't afford on your kid that it automatically makes him or her more talented than anyone else out there.

I'll tell you another thing that drives me batsh!t crazy about this whole phenomenon:  It creates a very uneven playing field for the kids who might want to try something, but whose families can't afford to pay for the private leagues or who don't have their act together enough to get their kids into it.  The research is clear:  Lower-class kids spend their free time playing outside with each other in unstructured activities, and middle-class kids take lessons and join leagues.  By the time school sports start up in middle school, when it's more likely to be free, the less-advantaged kids are already four or five years behind the kids who have been in rec league for all of elementary school.  Add in AAU and town travel teams and Elite USA and all that other crap, and getting your kid into an activity becomes an arms race based on who has more money and time to spend trucking kids around.

Don't get me wrong, if India and Celeste happen to express an interest or a talent in something, I will do whatever I need to do (within reason and cost) to foster it. My approach right now is to try a range of things.  They take dance lessons once a week.  India sings in her youth voices choir at church.  They've taken swimming lessons and gymnastics lessons and soccer lessons in the past, but those are usually limited to a session or two.  Even though I think they are the greatest thing since sliced bread, I can see that they're no more than typically capable at any of those things.  Will that change?  I don't know.  I hope they find a passion in something - music, art, philately, model UN, studying the films of Ingmar Bergman - that enriches their lives beyond the daily round of school and home and chores and homework.  But I also hope I never mistake shelling out the green stuff on my part for actual talent on my kids' part.

* Names and identities changed to protect - well, everyone involved. The student portrayed is a composite and all conversations are summaries and not quotes, so don't get all James Frey on me, a'ight???

Adventures of A Stay-At-Home Mom

I realize blog posts have, ironically, gotten a little thin on the ground now that I have this free time since vacation started.  Apparently I need my outside job to stimulate my brain - if I blogged about my thinking these days, my blog posts would consist of me whining about how much of stay-at-home momery consists of tedium and repetition.  Not that I don't love being part of my girls'  lives, of course!  I love it!  Every minute of it!  Because no one has a more significant influence on a child than a mother, and every fiber of my being wants to ensure that my girls are the most well-adjusted, lovingly nurtured, - oh, forget it.  Basically, my day consists of being the doorman for a petulant cat and the sounding board for two of the most talkative creatures who ever breathed air on this planet.  The soundtrack of my days sounds something like this:

Mommy!  Mommy!  Is this a joke?  What did the bunny say to the tree?  Come here because I'm going to

The wheels on the bus go wound and wound!  Wound and wound!  Mommy, will you sing wiff me?

eat you!  Is that a funny joke, Mommy?  Why isn't it a funny joke?  Can you tell me a joke?  You know

Mommy, can I have a wamwich for lunch, Mommy?  I want a wamwich.  I want a wamwich WIGHT NOW.

what, Mommy?  Know what?  The fairies told me a secret and they said I can't tell Ceecee. Wanna hear it?

I dropped my 'lip-'lop, Mommy.  Mommy, I dropped my 'lip-'lop.  Can you get my 'lip-'lop, Mommy?

Lather, rinse, repeat from wake-up until way, waaaay too late at night, because of course bedtimes have gone all to hell now that it's summer vacay and the sky is still light at late-thirty o'clock.  Meantime, here are a few thoughts that have been kicking around the ole cranium of late.  Enjoy!

Great Minds Think Alike

We are at a local amusement park/kiddie zoo with my friend and her two girls, who are of an age with mine.  The eldest girl has anointed herself Queen and India as Princess as befits their age and status as big sisters.  We are in line for the Ferris wheel, which is moving only slightly more rapidly than the post office stamp line at tax time, and the two older girls are lording it over the little sister like Mean Girls Junior.

Oldest Girl:  Hey!  You can't get ahead of us!  We're royalty.

Me (to myself): You're royal all right.

Friend (laughing):  Hey, that's just what I was thinking!

Me:  A royal pain in the neck, that is.

Man in front of us (clearly a veteran of the parent wars):  The lower neck.

News of the Weird, Political Edition

So Sarah Palin upped and quit her job as a way of proving that she's, um, not a quitter. Now aren't you glad you listened to me and didn't elect this lady as Veep?  She's nuttier than a Christmas fruitcake and battier than a New England barn.  Even Open-Mouth-Insert-Foot himself, Mr. Say-It-Ain't-So Joe Biden would have to get up pretty darn early in the gosh-dang patriotic mornin' to be nearly as wackadoodle as Her Gov'ship.  What I particularly love about Palin's resignation is how she's put on this wounded-yet-brave act about how the evil, evil media has treated her and her family.  In response to that, I present Exhibit A:

Now I ask you, does this look like a woman who's been victimized, misrepresented, and hounded out of office?  No, this looks like a woman who's competing for the local Mrs. Patriotic America title, replete with American flag and military offspring banner.  Clearly Palin never saw a camera she didn't love, especially when she knows the story's going to be complimentary.  The circa-1983 pep-squad pose she's striking is a wee bit cringeworthy in a woman in her 40's, I have to say.  C'mon, the last time I vamped like that was in 1985, for the basketball cheerleaders' yearbook photo (if memory serves correctly, I had enough AquaNet on my head to crack the ozone layer my very own self and so much mascara on I could barely see, but that is another story).  This picture is from a photo shoot La Palin did for Runner's World, and Sarah being Sarah, she waxes enthusiastic about how much she just loooves runnin' because she can just be her gosh darn ol' genu-wine 100% ordinary Amurrican self, while all the pictures show someone who is far too well-groomed and absurdly cheerful to have just finished doing anything as painful and boring as running.  Well, you can take the woman out of the pageant...

News of the Weird, Celebrity Edition

So I managed to avoid 99% of the Michael Jackson memorial, until I was trapped in front of the TV at the gym and had to watch (and watch and watch) the clip of Paris Jackson extemporaneously eulogizing her dad.  I found it by turns both gut-wrenching and stomach-turning: Gut-wrenching because that poor girl was so clearly completely overwhelmed by grief, and what reasonable human being can't sympathise to some extent with the profound loss all three of those children have suffered?  And stomach-turning because that clip has been played over and over and over again to satiate our voyeuristic desire to feel included in a now-dead celebrity's life.  Really, do we have absolutely no sense of decency left as a social unit?  The ceremony was intended for broadcast, and the adults there knew that whatever happened there would be fair game for the media, but Paris is a child. Does her private sorrow really need to be fodder for the public's appetite for news?

I was also intrigued by the very Rev. Sharpton's epigrammatic statement to Jacko's kids.  Here I'm referring to the oft-quoted comment that, "Your daddy wasn't strange.  What happened to your daddy was strange."  The man sure has a way of looking reality right in the eye and denying it, doesn't he?  Okay, Michael Jackson's life was not conventional by any means, and the circumstances of growing up in enormous fame certainly are rare - but let's face it, the guy was a wee bit eccentric around the edges. I don't think it detracts from the man's reputation or the gravity of events for us to acknowledge that he was unusual.  HE LIVED IN AN AMUSEMENT PARK WITH A CHIMP NAMED BUBBLES, PEOPLE.  Now if your new neighbor up the street set up a Tilt-A-Whirl and a menagerie in the back yard, would you be thinking, "Oh, ho-hum, another day in the neighborhood," or would you be just the least little bit curious about how things worked upstairs?  Yeah, I thought so.

Can I Be An Unreal Housewife, Too?

A friend begged me to write a post about the Real Housewives of New Jersey recently, but what can I say that wouldn't be simply stating the obvious?  The whole show is so over the top, it speaks for itself.  I will gild fine gold just long enough to point out that the premise of the show is predicated upon a complete falsehood.  My SAHM life sure ain't no reality show fodder, and I think my experience is far more of a piece with the typical SAH experience than those ladies'.  The show is about "real" housewives as opposed to "fictional," but not "real" as in "typical."  I have never seen any of these women lose their sh*t because their kids can't find shoes and they're late for a doctor's appointment, for instance - that's reality.  Sometimes I amuse myself by making up fake TV guide listings for episodes of Real Housewives of Some Pig:

"Caroline and India have a screaming fight about whether or not India needs to get dressed right now, young lady; Caroline's head explodes."

"Celeste pees like a racehorse all over the floor ten minutes after Caroline just told her to use the potty; Caroline utters curse words within hearing of tender ears."

"Caroline attempts to read a book at the beach while Celeste and India plot to prevent her from having a moment to herself."

"India threatens to run away because her mother is the meanest mother in the world.  Caroline volunteers to drive her to the inner city and drop her off on the nearest street corner.  Hilarity ensues."

As a by-the-by, I seem to spend much of my SAHM tenure feeling like my head is going to explode.  Here is a typical parent-child exchange chez Pig:

Me:  India, do you want some toast?

India:  I don't know.

Me: It's a yes-or-no question, India, do you want some toast?

India:  I guess so (heavy sigh of weariness and despair).

Me:  India, if I make you this toast, are you going to eat it?

India:  YES, MOTHER!

I make toast.  Toast sits for fifteen minutes, untouched. 

Me: India, if you're not going to eat this toast, I'm going to throw it out.

India:  I don't want it!

Toast is summarily discarded.  Twenty minutes pass.

India:  Mommy, I'm hungry.  I want toast.

Me:  * head explodes *

Why does nothing like THAT ever happen on RHONJ?

Segue to Relevant and Meaningful Conclusion Coming in 3... 2... 1:

I got nothin'.  Gimme some love in the comments, folks, it's going to be a loooooong summer.

E-Mails I Will Never Send

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Absentee,

I am writing because I noticed your daughter Aimee was not in my class yet again today.  I looked up her cumulative absences, and do you realize she has been absent from my class twenty-three times so far this year?  To my knowledge, Aimee doesn't have any chronic health conditions that would keep her out, and hasn't contracted swine flu, diphtheria, mononucleosis, or any other illness that would necessitate being out of school for A MONTH.  While Aimee is extremely bright and catches up quickly, she does miss a critical part of the learning experience when she's out at least one day a week on average.  Does that strike you as being just a bit excessive, perhaps?  Plus I have to question the validity of some of the choices you've made.  When your kid has already racked up absences in the double digits, do you really think it's justifiable to take her out of school early for vacation - and then come back to school late?   Then there was the time you kept her home because her sibling was coming home from college that day and you wanted Aimee there to greet him - because obviously having to wait until the end of the school day to see someone she just saw a couple of months ago would count as durance vile and is considered cruel and unusual punishment under the Bill of Rights - a fact I am telling you because Aimee was OUT for that lecture.  By the way, you may be interested in knowing that Aimee's peers are aware of her lack of presence in school.  No one wants to work with her on group assignments because they know she's not going to be around for most of it.  And is it just coincidence, or does your daughter tend to disappear right in the middle of assignments so that she can finish it up on her own and not have to interact with anyone?  Either way, from now on I am not accepting illness excuse notes from you unless they involve dengue fever and are countersigned by the CDC.

Mrs. S. Pig

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Draggypants,

I just want to alert you to the fact that your son clearly has worn out all his own clothes and is now wearing his little brother's.  That's the only explanation I can find for the fact that his jeans are simultaneously skin-tight AND sagging below his @ss.  Seriously, the crotch of his jeans today was at knee level.  It's a wonder the kid doesn't take two steps forward and fall flat on his face, bound tightly 'round the ankles by his own denim trousers.  What's even more amazing is that, when he lifted his shirt to hoist the waistband of his pants infinitesimally closer to his arse, I noticed that HE HAS A BELT ON.  Why??  The better to trip himself up when the aforementioned gravity-induced depantsing occurs?  It's not as if he's taking that belt and using it to CINCH HIS PANTS TIGHT so they STOP falling down.  Either your son is terminally confused about what a belt is and how it is meant to function, or  he does know but his pants are so ill-fitting that efforts to make them suitable for public viewing are futile.  Either way, please make him wear something that doesn't leave everything hanging in the breeze, so to speak.

Gratefully,

S. Pig

Dear Ms. Stinky,

My dad tells this story from his Navy days about how, when he was serving on a destroyer, sailors with poor personal hygiene who failed to take repeated hints to improve matters would be summarily grabbed, stripped naked, thrown in the shower and scrubbed down with the wire scrub brushes usually used to scour the deck of the ship. 

I tell you this by way of being a cautionary tale.  If your son is ever tempted to join the Navy, tell him to choose a branch of the armed services where members are not kept in quite such close quarters, or he is going to find himself bereft of a couple layers of dermis at the least.  Why?  Because your kid stinks like a barnyard.  Really.  We mean it.  Today I went to help him with a problem and he had SERIOUS grime ingrained in the skin around his fingernails.  If I didn't know better, I'd assume he was planting potatoes in his spare time from the skunk-wrestling league.  I like your kid, but I can't get close enough to his desk to help him with his work because the stench knocks me out from 20 paces.  We've given the group talk about Mr. Shower and his friends Soap, Deodorant, and Shampoo several times and nothing has changed.  So please, for the love of my olfactory nerve, tell the kid to bathe!

Ms. Pig

Dear Mrs. Moonphase,

I need to share a concern I have with you about Menstra.  At last count, she has had her period seventy-seven times this year.  This clearly falls outside the bounds of normal female maturation and is now cause for medical intervention.  Might I suggest a suitable OB/GYN for your daughter to obtain a complete workup?

Signed,

Menstra's social studies teacher

Dear Ms. Slacker and Mr. Stepdad,

You need to know that Little Slacker approached me today and asked me to add two points to his grade so he would have a C when you check his grades.  When I gently reminded him that we haven't done any graded assignments this week that would raise his average, he informed me that he wanted me just to add the points to his grade regardless so that he could have the magic C average.  In fact, the D he has is a fair and accurate reflection of his work ethic, level of achievement, and contribution to the classroom environment.  It will be a cold day in hell before I "give" him OR anyone else points on his grade just because he doesn't want to be grounded.  He is more than welcome to see me about completing any one of the myriad unfinished or unsatisfactorily completed assignments given to him this quarter.  After all, he will have nothing but time on his hands when he is grounded.

Sincerely,

Mrs. P.

Letter From A Broad, XWhyMe Chromosome Edition

Dear boys,

We need to have a talk. 

No, not that talk; the responsibility for that lies squarely in the laps of your fathers, brothers, some kid you talked to on the bus one day, your health teacher and Penthouse Forum - in short, anyone else besides me.  No, we need to have a talk about some of the more unpleasant social manifestations of your physical state, to wit, your transmogrification into complete and utter nincompoops.  Like, seriously. I'm very well versed in the realities of teenaged boys.  I know that young teenage boys tend toward the smelly, goofy, and horny, and in some godforsaken cases, all three simultaneously.  That is only to be expected.  What is not acceptable is the level of sheer unmitigated ANNOYINGNESS (is that a word? I say it is!) you have unleashed on an unwitting public as of late.  What happens over April vacation?  Does the advent of spring uncover hidden reserves of testosterone that surge through your bloodstream like a tsunami through the Indian Ocean?  Does the sight of shorts and t-shirts on your female counterparts cause you to lose whatever hard-won social skills you earned over the winter, when they were more fully clothed?  Are you so distracted by the dog-whistle call of pheromones that you can't perform basic human functions, like walking, talking, and chewing gum simultaneously? 

Since we appear to need a refresher course in Acting Like a Human Being 101, let me do the honors.  There are certain behaviors that are NOT ACCEPTABLE in polite society.  For example, it is NOT ACCEPTABLE to stand in the middle of whatever pathway large numbers of people need to take to get from point A to point B.  Need I point out EVERY SINGLE BLESSED DAY OF THE WEEK that the lacrosse sticks and gym bags you carry slung on your back make you twice as hard to traverse around?  And must I ask you EVERY SINGLE DAY to do any or all of the following:  Show up to class on time; go to your locker now and don't ask to go during class; take off your hat in the building; get off the counter, it's not your assigned seat; don't push your classmates into the wall while you're walking down the hall; and FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY STOP FARTING AND BLAMING IT ON YOUR FRIENDS.  I have to WORK for the rest of the day in the room that you just befouled with your anile stench, so have some consideration, please!

While I'm asking for the moon and stars, I'm going to add one more to the list:  Could we please, please, please start respecting one another's personal space?  That includes, but is not limited to, bookbags, books, binders, backpacks, jackets, shoes, and iPods as well as one's physical person.  Holy oxymorons, Batman, given the proliferation of homophobic comments I overhear, I'd think the LAST thing you guys would want to do is get within a ten-foot radius of one another lest someone think you're one of them.  And how many times have I talked to you about THAT, too?  Would you call someone a racial slur?  No?  Then why is it perfectly fine to use sexual preference as a pejorative?  And a pejorative is - oh never mind, JUST STOP DOING IT.  Why does it matter anyway?  And don't you think that maybe, just maybe, some of your FRIENDS might have some of those inclinations???  It's not outside the realm of the possible, you know - I saw that kid in the back row do jazz hands that one time; he's not fooling me any!  But back to the personal space issue - here's a tip:  YOU ARE TOO OLD TO PLAY TAG.  ESPECIALLY IN THE HALLS.  What IS it with you these days?  If I had a nickel for every time I've told you guys not to poke, prod, kick, trip, nudge, elbow, tickle, slap, push, or in any way TOUCH each other in the past month, I'd be able to retire the federal deficit! 

Okay, there are five weeks left in your middle school career.  How about we agree that you will make every reasonable effort within your power to act like a somewhat more evolved life form, and I will let the little stuff slide?  I'm not asking for homo sapiens here. I'll take homo habilis, or if I'm feeling ambitious and it's a nice day, we can reach for homo neanderthalensis!  Otherwise it's going to come down to you or me, kids, and I'm telling you right now, I've been at this game as long as you've been alive... so don't bet the house that it'll be you.

Love,

Your long-suffering Social Studies teacher

Funny, That Was My Response, Too

So I'm blogging around, looking for distraction from (in)Decision '08, when I chance to open up Suburban Turmoil.  And right away I get smacked in the retinas with this:

 

I don't think these two are studying for their trig final, hmmm?

Yeah.  This is a real, live promotion for a real, live show on the teevees aimed at real, live KIDS.  Kids!  Kids who should be passing around a dog-eared copy of Forever and cringing with embarrassment when that scene from When Harry Met Sally plays on the movie channel and they're watching it in the living room with their parents!  Kids who are but a few years removed from watching SpongeBob and not knowing if they should be a ballerina or an astronaut. KIDS!

The part about this that really skeeves me out is the fact that, while the show's makers may protest that these shows are meant for older teens, such as juniors in high school and up, I can tell you that's not who's watching it.  When I taught upperclassmen, we'd often talk about their TV viewing habits. In my experience, older teens are generally way too busy to watch a lot of network TV.  The school-oriented kids are too busy with sports and yearbook and Spanish Honor Society and mock trial and all that.  The car-oriented kids are too busy working their two and a half under-the-table jobs so they can afford a car and car insurance and gas money and car repairs.  The slacker kids are too busy on-line gaming and skating and making videos of themselves doing sick tricks to post on YouTube and watching whatisface videos (Tony Hawk?) on their PS 2's.  The drama geeks are too busy sitting around the auditorium for hours on end talking about life and how superficial it all is and how very, very fake and phony the adult world is and how they'll never, never sell out to it because they just want to go create art and be happy and ... well, you get the picture.

So if those kids aren't watching it, who is?

Middle school students, that's who.  MY students, in other words. Any product aimed primarily at high school students is going to grab the attention of the middle school set as well.  What attracts them to such adult content?  Basically, what most tweens and early teens want is to be older teens. They can't wait to go to high school, drive, get jobs, date, do all the stuff that they think is cool.  That's why your average middle school girl would just die to have pretty much anything from Abercrombie, Hollister, Aeropostale - anyplace that uses images of older teens to promote their wares.  The other defining characteristic about tweens and young teens is that they still have rather, um, porous boundaries between fantasy and reality.  Of course not all of them believe everything they see, but they are much more gullible at this age than older teens are.  So this Gossip Girl soft p*rn is like catnip to them - it's fantasy, a la-la land version of real life gussied up and tarted up and sexed up to bring in viewers and the advertisers who want to reach them.  So there are a lot - A LOT - of tweens/teens who are kicking around the house at night, not doing a whole heck of a lot (certainly not their homework, by the looks of things) and who have TVs and cable right in their rooms, along with parents who give them pretty free rein over what they watch.  Go back and look at that picture again, and then think about all the eleven-, twelve-, and thirteen-year-old girls out there who are getting their ideas about teenage relationships from Gossip Girl.

Yeesh.

Ten to One

I'm tired, I'm cranky, I feel fat, the kids are whining, the sink is full of dirty dishes and the cat puked on the rug again - what better time to start a blog post?  To top it off, I've just tagged myself for a meme I stole borrowed from Crazylainetrain since no one EVER seems to tag me because clearly I am not one of the "in" bloggers and - oops, did I mention I'm cranky?  Anyway, here goes:

Ten Things I Wish I Could Say to Ten Different People Right Now:

10.  Sarah Palin, if you friggin' wink at me one more time when you're supposedly proving your fitness to be second in line for the most important job in the free world, well, you and I are going to throw down, sista, and it ain't gonna be pretty!  And by the way, I live on the East Coast!  And I don't like you any more than you like me!  So there!!

9.  Next time you embarrass me in public, India, I'm leaving you in the Goodwill drop box and don't you think I won't!

8.  You know something, Mrs. Jones, I know we have to have these 504 meetings to discuss your son's learning issues once a year.  Just this once, however, could we skip the hour-long monologue that encompasses your son's entire academic history going back to the first grade and just cut to the chase, which is about what we need to do *this year*?

7.  And while I'm at it, you should know that your son doesn't really have any major "learning issues," certainly none that require accommodations.  I hate to be the one to break it to you, but your son earns mediocre grades because he's not that bright.

6.  P.S.The other reason why your son doesn't do well in school is because he's sick and tired of you being all up in his grill all the time, so every time he sees you getting geared up to fly in and "fix" everything, he just stops working.  You know, I've had two kids myself, and my recollection is that they cut that cord right away.

5.  Oh, I dunno - hot seaweed wrap, salt scrub, hot stone massage - it's so hard to choose; I'll just try 'em all!

4.  Yeah, I think two carats is just the right size for an engagement ring upgrade, too!

3.  Do you have this in a size 4?  My size 6's are getting way too loose.

2.  You're tired and you want to go to bed early tonight?  Well, okay, but just this once!

1.  Another frozen daquiri, please, and keep 'em coming.

Nine Things About Me That I Haven't Blogged About Yet (I Think)

9.  When I was a senior in college, I had an asymmetrical hair cut.  It was truly awful.  I claim temporary insanity - it was 1988, after all.

8.  I am inordinately proud of the fact that I can grow long nails without having to resort to tacky acrylics.

7.  I often think longingly about going platinum blonde, but am too chicken to do it.

6.  I used to be a redhead, but I was so lazy I couldn't be bothered to keep up with the roots (hence the lack of follow-through with #7).

5.  I took my driver's test in the wintertime, which isn't that notable, except that a big highway plow went right by me when I was parallel parking and I didn't even notice.  Not a good sign, huh?

4.  When I was little I slammed my hand in the car door trying to make sure the seat belt didn't fall out of the car and get caught in the door latch mechanism.  Which it didn't - but my fingers sure did!

3.  Speaking of car-related disasters, when I was in elementary school, I fell out of a moving car.  Fortunately we were going very slowly, and I just got scraped up really badly.  Until I wrote this, I didn't realize how bad that could've been!

2.  I am named after both of my great-grandmothers.

1.  My nickname when I was little was Caroliney Rosey Posey Piddle Widdle.  I'm not sure, but I *may* have been a late toilet-trainer.

Eight Ways to Win My Friendship/Heart:

8.  Whoopie pies!  Nothing says, "I'd like you to be my friend," like two chocolaty cakes surrounding a whipped icing center.  Mmmm, icing....

7.  Did I mention diamonds?

6.  Sit next to me in any kind of mandatory faculty gathering and say snarky things.  I will heart u for life!

5. Say "I yuv yoo Mumma" in your cute little two-year-old voice (only works if you're Celeste, however).

4.  Talk like the Swedish Chef, or like a pirate on Talk Like a Pirate Day.  In public.

3.  Let me sleep in late.

2.  Make lunches for the girls - boy, do I hate having to make three lunches a day, every day, day in and day out, over and over and over and over....

1.  "Honey, why don't go lie down on the couch for awhile with your new book?  I know you've been really busy this week.  You deserve a break."

Seven Things That Cross My Mind A Lot

7. Why do I have to have stomach fat?  I mean, if I'm going to chub up, why can't it be someplace that could stand being chubbier, like my boobs?

6.  I remember when I was thrilled to have correcting to do ... but student teaching was only eight weeks long, not forty.

5.  I need to create a clone of myself whose sole purpose for being would be to correct papers and make parent phone calls.  And perhaps make the girls' lunches.

4.  How on earth am I going to teach [name topic here] so the kids don't totally hate it?

3.  Is there any chocolate in the break room?

2.  Now where exactly are my car keys, again?

1.  I want to win $5 million dollars in the lottery - enough for my husband to stay home and play househusband, which he would really enjoy, but not enough that I would feel compelled to quit my job too, which I really enjoy.  Then he could spend his day planning nutritious meals, ferrying various kids to various places, puttering around the house, and tending to our finances while I keep us in health insurance and retirement funds.  Everyone wins!

Six Things I Do Before I Fall Asleep

6.  Brush my teeth.

5.  Take off my eye makeup.

4.  Wash my face.

3.  Pee.

2.  Put on jammies.

1.  Contemplate reading a book or magazine for the approximately 3.2 seconds it takes between the time I crawl into bed and the time I fall asleep.

Five People (Aside From The Obvious Ones) Who Mean a Lot:

5.  Toasty

4. 3. 2. and 1.  My friends from high school with whom I'm still friends (in alpha order) Amy, Cathy, Donna, Elaine.

Four Things I'm Wearing Right Now

4.  My glasses (dorkenheimer specials)

3.  Fleece pants covered with feathers from the girls' dress-up feather boas that shed like sumbitches.

2.  A stained fleece, and

1.  A rust-colored turtleneck with a bleach stain on the sleeve.  Mmm, fancy!

Three Songs I've Been Listening To Lately

3.  Katie Perry, "I Kissed A Girl" - which is a rockin' song, but I tend to sing whatever I last heard on the car radio all day long at school, and when you teach middle school that just AIN'T APPROPRIATE!

2.  Kanye West, "Stronger" - "That, that, that which don't kill me/can only make me stronger/I need you to hurry up now/cuz I can't wait much longer" - a line that is almost as good as:  "You know how long I been on ya?/Since Prince been on Appolonia/Since O.J. has Isotoners" - the man is stone genius!

1.  House of Pain, "Jump" - I dunno, after a million repetitions on Wiggles and Dan Zanes, I need something LOUD.  And FIERCE. 

Two Things I Want To Do Before I Die

Mmmph.  This is hard.

2.  Take my girls traveling to all the places I've been and the many more places I'd like to go.

1.  Dress up all glamorous and go out somewhere fancy and important, like a White House reception.  And the French ambassador would see me and be all, "Mais oui!  Madame, vous etes un hot potato!  Je suis enchantee!  Magnifique!"  And he'd bow down low over my hand before raising it to his mouth for a kiss, as I haughtily (yet alluringly) say, "Sir!  Please! I am a married woman!" before turning on my heel and swanning off to be swept up in a conversation about how best to resolve the international banking crisis while - oops, I think I digressed there a bit.

One Confession

Sometimes I deliberately pretend I can't hear the girls when they're downstairs in the basement playroom and they want me to come down with them.  Does that make me a bad person?  I can live with that.

Summer Fireworks

Y'know, I was actually marvelling to myself lately about a dearth of rant-worthy interactions in my life.  "Gee," thought I to myself, "perhaps it's the dawn of a new day here chez Pig.  Perhaps I becoming as one with the universe, finding peace and contentment in the knowledge that we are all part of the godhead." 

And perhaps I was full of baloney, or had too much white wine with dinner.  (Cold white wine!  On the porch!  Sitting in the rocking chair!  In the dusk!)  For lo and behold, no sooner had I gotten done patting myself on the back about my newfound empathy for all humanity than I found something to rant about - on the blogosphere yet!  Imagine - finding something that sets one off on the blogosphere!  How strange is that??? (Yes, I am being sarcastic. Good call, Captain Obvious!) 

The latest rant comes via a NoImpactMan post in which he references something about his preschool daughter's daycare experience, touching off a veritable landslide of comments from my faaaaaavorite people.

The homeschoolers.

Comment after comment after comment greeted that post, most of which could basically be summed up along the following lines:  There is no way some ignorant stranger could ever fully appreciate the wonderful unique fabulousness of your child the way you can, and besides, what truly loving parent would leave their child in the care of someone who looks after children (gasp of horror here) for money because that is just as bad as abandoning your child and (eek!) your child has to share attention with many many other children and who knows what kind of values those places are imparting to our most precious children and besides those callous adults just let the kids fall through the cracks and yada yada blah blah blah, go on a homeschooling listserv and read a few posts and you probably can finish the thoughts yourselves.  And my newfound attitude of peace, love and dandelions went flying right out the window, thank you very much.

Now (obligatory disclaimer here), let me say upfront that despite my professional affiliation, I do not have a beef with the concept of homeschooling itself.  I have met several homeschooled children in my travels, and a number of them were extremely well educated, well spoken, equally comfortable with children and adults, intellectually curious, and multiply talented.  I have also met some who were (IMHO) limited in their education and awkward around their peers. In other words, I've met homeschooled kids with a range of talents and abilities and personalities, which is - hmm, let me see - just like kids everywhere.  No, it's not the concept of homeschooling in and of itself that I object to. What I object to is the homeschooling evangelicals, those who have not just drunk the kool-aid of homeschooling but have marinated themselves in a vat of the stuff and are now going to come around and make you swim in it, too.

I realize that some of my dislike may be rooted in the fact that the true-blue homeschoolers are the ones out there proselytizing for their cause, and perhaps I haven't seen the full range of homeschooling parents that exists.  However, what galls me is the general impression I've gotten from the diehards that homeschooling is the one and only way that children should be taught.  I think our national penchant for thinking that there's one true universal "answer" to what's "wrong" with education is the worst thing possible for our educational system.  We're so busy running around trying to find this completely fictitious silver bullet that we can't see the reality, which is that what works for one child (or group of children) will not necessarily work for all children.  Leaping jeebus, we have enormous national debates about whether or not kids should show up to school in uniforms, fercrissakes, when we should be looking at what works where and for whom, and how can we replicate successes where possible and how we can offer options that fit in the community where the schools are located. 

Ha!  I hear you homeschoolers pouncing.  You've admitted the very thing that makes homeschooling so great!  We homeschooling parents can tailor our childrens' education to fit their special unique specialness the way no one else can!  In which case, my answer is to repeat, that's not my main beef with homeschooling.  What makes me mad (and makes me write blog posts) is the view I've heard voiced by many homeschoolers that homeschooling is the sole and only way to give a child a good education.  Never in my (admittedly limited) travels have I ever heard a homeschooling parent say anything along the lines of, "it's great but it's not for everyone," or "it's a lot more work than I thought it would be," and you certainly never hear the stories about the people who try it and run screaming for the nearest public school after a week of trying to plan lessons, evaluate learning, monitor skill development, maintain focus and motivation, and oh yeah, teach multiple subject matters. It's one of the wonders of education that everyone thinks they're an expert because at some point everyone goes to school somewhere.  I'm not one for eduspeak, and I think we like to clothe some pretty straightforward ideas in a lot of jargon-y arglebargle (standards-based outcomes, anyone?), but there IS a core of professional knowledge here, folks, and just because you have kids doesn't mean you have that knowledge.  Yeah, I know "parents are the first teachers," but parents are also the first health care professionals and you don't see me diagnosing my kid's ear infections, now, do you?  Again, I'm not saying that homeschooling parents can't be good educators, because I've met some fantastic homeschooling folks, people I'd be happy to have teaching my kids.  But I've also had a kid show up in my class with significant literacy deficits that had gone unaddressed for years while his mother homeschooled because she "didn't like the teachers" at the middle school.  (As an aside, she was working full-time outside the home, so when, exactly, she managed to do any homeschooling is beyond me.)

Another gripe I have with the homeschool set is that any questions about the (very real and significant) issues around peer relations and socializing are usually brushed off with responses along the lines of, "I keep my kids in Scouts" or "we get together with other homeschoolers at least once a week!"  Uuuuh, yeah.  Because that two or three hours of socializing really makes up for the rest of the week.  As an example, one of the local papers ran a feature article on homeschooling and interviewed a couple of families.  One family lived way out in the puckerbrush, literally at the end of a long dirt road.  The mom, when interviewed, raved on and on about how special homeschooling is, how she could tailor every lesson to meet her children's needs and interests, how the learning never had to end just because the bell rang, etc., etc., etc.  The kids said (and I remember this pretty much verbatim):  "It's okay but we're lonely" - hardly a rousing endorsement.  The mom's response to that?  Oh, the usual - Scouts, church groups, Little League.  But as someone who sees kids on a regular basis, I can tell you that those fleeting encounters don't make up for the day to day interactions kids expect to have with their friends.  The homeschooled kids I see tend to have friends they can say hi and bye to, but it's a struggle for them to keep connected with the kids going to the public school unless they're really close to begin with.  The kids I've met who were among the most successfully homeschooled (in my opinion, granted) lived on the campus of a private school, so they had tons of other young people around all the time anyway.

The last major argument I hear frequently around homeschooling has to do with "values," which apparently is code for "religious beliefs" - to wit, "I homeschool my kids so I can teach them my Christian values," or, "In the public schools, they can't teach values anymore," or "All the sex ed and evolution they teach in the public schools goes against my values."  Okay, so you don't have the money to send your kid to a private church school.  What makes you so sure your kid's going to be corrupted by coming into contact with the godless heathens among us?  Also, last time I looked, most of my fellow teachers and I shared some basic values I think we all can get behind - values like telling the truth, working hard, and doing your best.  If you're doing a good job of living your values and transmitting them to your kids, I'm not sure how hearing about Darwin's theory of evolution is such a bad thing.  Shouldn't your kids have a chance to make up their own minds about these issues?  Shoot, even Jesus questioned his faith at one point, didn't He?  And from what I've seen, my students' reaction to sex ed, when taught well, was "ew" (a view I heartily encourage and promote whenever possible).

Speaking as someone who's thrown her professional lot in with the dominant hegemony, naturally my kids will be attending public school.  I have thought a lot about what we'll do if it's not a good fit for either of the girls, because it does happen that some kids aren't best served in that manner.  However, we'd have to be in a pretty dire situation for me to homeschool - personally, I like the structure of schedules and subject areas and the school calendar; the idea that "you never have to stop teaching!" gives me the whim-whams, not a frisson of delight.  But I have lived long enough to know that any idea I've ever dismissed out of hand eventually has come back to bite me in the behind, so I will hold off on any ultimatums (ultimati?) and hope I'm not writing a retraction here sometime in future years (and encouraging everyone to try homeschooling because, after all, no one cares about your child's education like you do!)

Stop the Madness!

Dear Fellow Parents,

Come with me on a trip down memory lane.  I am four years old and it is my birthday.  My mom has the neighbor kids across the street over to mark the occasion.  The festivities consist of everyone singing the birthday song, consuming their weight in cake and ice cream, and leaving. I don't even remember if I got presents. 

Fast forward one year.  I'm five, and the celebration has become correspondingly more sophisticated:  The clientele includes more friends than just the kids across the street; we play "Mother, May I," and "Pin the Tail on the Donkey" and then have cake and ice cream. I open presents (mostly small plastic things from the local five and dime) while everyone (again) eats their weight in sugary treats and vamooses posthaste.

I tell you this not to reinforce the notion that I am ancient (Although when I was young, the Old Testament was just "the Testament" and Methuselah was often chided for his callow youth.  "He's so young, the tribal elders would say, clucking their tongues over his latest juvenile transgression - chariot joyriding, oxen tipping and the like - while the womenfolk tried to placate them.  "Remember when you were like that?  He'll mature over the next couple score of years.").  I realize you might get the impression that I'm superannuated, what with the reference to the "five and dime" and all (Okay, keeds, the five and dime was like an exceptionally small, locally-owned Wal-Mart, where'd you go with your allowance and ... oh never mind.).  No, I tell you this so you'll have some context to understand why I was so surprised to pick up my daughter at day care the other day and find a yo-yo in her cubby with a note purporting to be from the birthday girl, explaining that this little trinket was given in celebration of her birthday.  Oh, and, by the way, my daughter doesn't even know this little girl, and as far as I can figure, she's not even in the same class.

Um, exsqueeze me?  I must not have gotten the memo that says we now give random strangers gifts on our childrens' birthdays.  I can only guess that Mom must have bought a gross of the things from Oriental Trading and had no other way to get rid of them, because otherwise, why would you give favors to kids who don't even know your kid?  And whatever possesses someone to give a room full of three-and four-year-olds each a yoyo, fercrissake?  My daughter can't even yo!  That sure made for an enjoyable evening, listening to her screams of frustration as the yoyo spiraled out of her control and rolled around on the floor.  Maybe I can use future birthdays as an excuse to give everyone a Ninja throwing star or something of that ilk. 

So can we all agree to a period of detente in the birthday party arms race?  I know I'm guilty of birthday overachievement (India's third birthday extravaganza immediately comes to mind), but at least I've never fallen prey to the urge to up the ante on everyone else. I suggest that we all go back to the standards of the seventies, a time before themed birthday parties, mandatory favors for the attendees, destination events, and parents hanging around during the festivities.  We can lead the kiddos through a rousing game of "Button, Button, Who's Got the Button," let them loose on the swing, dole out too-large slices of cake (made from a mix! with no organic ingredients!) and then send them on home.  Gifts will be given from the attendees to the birthday child, and parents of those guests who protest will be remind the protesters of their own birthday that a) has just passed, or b) is coming up.  Thank-you notes will not purport to be from the (pre-literate) birthday celebrant, typed in a child-themed font, or written on stationery engraved with a four-year-old's name.  Best of all, the entire time required to plan, prepare for, hold, clean up after, and thank people in attendance at the event will be kept to a maximum of six hours (at least until said children are of an age where they want slumber parties, at which point you are on your own, folks).

So who's with me on this?