I spend a lot of time sitting on the edge of damp football pitches for training.
I used to take a book, but soon realized that there is no way Miss Ky is going to ever let me read while she's still breathing.
So I sit. For hours.
Sometimes other parents talk to me.
fools
Recently a man asked how I like living here,
which was a huge big mistake as I may have bored him professing my undying love for a country that will kick me out of it's company with no remorse in only two years and I may have mentioned I like the place.
He then asked me how I liked the schools.
This question was tougher.
The little guys had a rough year when a good portion of the staff was off sick for a major chunk of time;
a head teacher was forced to retire early due to his illness and then there was the death of his replacement over the Christmas break. That school normally gets a glowing report from me, but there were some cracks that many kids understandably fell through.
So, instead, I expounded on how thrilled we were by the variety of options the high school offered (it's better than some colleges I've seen).
The downside, I mentioned, was how I found it odd that my child never came home with homework (he agreed). The man got the queerest look on his face when I said that I had never had any communication or reports except at the end of each term.
He confessed that as a teacher, he was shocked that any high school would not be sending home regular reports.
The next week, my second child going into that same school
had his Welcome Tour.
His new Form Teacher (
Form is like a Home Room) proudly told all of us bright-eyed parents that all communication with the school takes place in the homework diary...
hmmmmm.....
When I got home, a certain 12 year-old had his backpack searched and sure enough, there was his homework diary (
which I DID know about, but had never communicated in).
Every written page for every school day had MY signature on it.
Only, it looked nothing like
MY signature and resembled something written by an adolescent.
Somebody has some eshplainin' to do...
...make that
TWO somebodies since apparently I am going to have to recall my recent report on our high school.
My head has been freed from the sand pit I must have buried it in and with two kids at that school this year, I think I just found my reading material for this year's hours and hours of football training...
