I know it started on Halloween, when I was volunteering in Baxter’s class. I – the mother of the youngest child in the second grade, thanks to a later cut-off age for kindergarten back in California – had the misfortune of hearing the teacher (how could I not hear that booming voice when I was standing less than two feet away) make a series of comments to another parent about the lack of wisdom of sending one’s children to school “too young”. It was one of those nasty comments that started with, “Now, I’m not going to tell anyone how to be a parent, but…” and ended with, “I’d rather my child be the oldest and smartest in the class, let me tell you!”
I didn’t relate the entire conversation here, but suffice it to say: if you were the parent of a youngish child OR a child with special needs, you would NOT have been pleased with this teacher’s description of trying to teach to all of the kids in her class. No, not at all. It was wrong on so very many levels – what she said, how she said it, who she said it to, and when she said it. The only reason I didn’t jump on it right then and there was that it was, well, a party. That and I was afraid I would have said things that I would have regretted later. Instead, I’m saving it up for next week’s teacher conference. Oh, yes, I certainly am.
So, folks, let me just say that I am ready for battle. Not that I will actually be anything less than polite next week, but believe me, I will be direct and clear.
In the meantime, take pity on anyone who crosses me. I gave a Hyatt hotel customer service representative a rip-roaring hard time this morning when they screwed up a reservation and then refused to give me the lower rate they had originally promised me. (“Take that! And that! And this is for screwing up in the same week that I’m really, really furious with my son’s teacher!”)
As I told a good friend on the phone this morning, “If you’ve got a bone to pick with me about anything, this would not be the day.”