It was at the curriculum night that I decided, in a spur of the moment action, to put my name forth for the home/school governing council.
To be honest,my all consuming hatred for the shirt man was the impetus. I was determined to crush him and do everything in my unholy power to make sure he lost the contract for shirts for the school. You do not, Sir, get to scream at me that my check is "No Good" over and over and just have that slide. Oh no. And to top that little shit sundae with you not delivering the shirts we TOLD you we were purchasing and me then having to calm my hysterical kid because the god damn shirts didn't get delivered?
And you took my money.
I hope your life has been enjoyable up to this point, because I have now rearranged my priorities to make your future a living hell.
This was Tuesday Night. I calm Emily, Terrance calms me ( and prevents me from running the two blocks to the school so I can personally stomp this guy with my highest, spikiest heels) and we put the matter to the side.
Emily is a bit anxious at the best of times, but any kind of teacher/parent meeting, or field trip, or any other thing which does not comply to her well ordered schedule can send her into a tizzy. She checks, she re-checks, she triple checks to make sure we KNOW the curriculum night is Tonight and that we are BOTH coming. Yes. We are both coming.
Terrance warns me before we leave the house to be nice. Be nice? What ever could you mean? I am the picture of suburban calm and demure motherhood. I am wearing a skirt...and a funky t shirt...and my rainbow skull sneakers. I am harmless.
We walk in and the principal sees me and turns away.
My reputation precedes me. I see my letter has had an impact. Or perhaps it was my crusade last year against the special ed sector of the English Montreal School Board when I cc'ed my local Parliament representatives. Not that I can vote here, but I do write a well put together letter and no one asked my voting status or ability.
Terrance leans in, "Wow. I have never seen her move so fast before."
I glare at him. His job is to keep the attackers off of me for as long as possible, and/or push me out of the way in an assassination attempt. His commentary is not needed.
We see some parents with whom we are familiar and sit down. Minor chit chat occurs. The new school website is unveiled. Parents look attentive and then the nominations for home/school begin.
I lean into Terrance, "I should nominate you", I say loudly.
The four heads of the parents in front of us whip around
"Thats a GREAT idea", they collectively say.
I mess with Terrance some more. "Yeah hon, I'll nominate you and then I will help you out if you are out of town for that meeting."
The other parents are looking positively pleased at this prospect. There is lots of agreement and encouragement. Terrance snarls back through his not quite smile, "I'll nominate YOU, Dawn".
The greek chorus of parents in front of us begin their declarations of agreement to this amended plan.
Whats this sir? A Challenge? Have you slapped me with your glove? Thrown down your gauntlet?
I ready myself for the renewed verbal spar when my husband does something so unexpected as to render me speechless. He legs it out of the gym. Gets up and takes off. Holy Crap! I smile at the greek chorus of parents - "Sure, you can nominate me" I say. I begin furiously texting things such as "chicken" and "coward" to my husbands phone.
Now that my handler has fled the scene, all bets are off. Who KNOWS what I might say? BWA-HA-HA-HA!
But I don't. I get nominated, I don't get voted in I find out later that week during the secret parent ballot vote count and I walk up the stairs to my child's new classroom where I will "meet" the teachers and be given an overview of the Cycle 3 curriculum. Terrance is still absent.
I get to the class and sit down with Emily. She shows me her desk and how she has straightened it up for my "visit". We ready ourselves for the Curriculum presentation. I continue to taunt my spouse via text message.
So, there we are. All the parents of Cycle 3 who have attended this evening. The four classes have about 120 children all told and there are maybe 40 families in attendance. Now, I am going to take a leap here, but I am guessing that the families that DID show up to this evening....Well, they are the ones who are the "involved" families. I am guessing that THESE families are the ones who send in their forms promptly and pay their school fees during the first week. I am further going to go out on the limb to say that these parents send their children into school with the entire list of school supplies purchased AND probably check over their child's homework nightly. I don't have any empirical evidence of this, but long experiences has taught me that this is the Choir right here. You don't need to preach to THEM.
Oh, but I would be wrong. The preaching begins. My daughters teacher leads the charge with the God Damn Shirt Lecture. My jaw drops. I am staring RIGHT at her and she just goes on and on about the school uniform shirts. She expands this lecture to include that blue pants with stripes are not acceptable, nor are blue sweatshirts with any logos or markings other than the school uniform. My Stare becomes an Outright GLARE. Not satisfied with the descriptions of the type of blue pants that would be acceptable, she then lectures the group of parents on what their child may wear on Free Dress Day, freely giving her opinions of outfits which are NOT acceptable, including, but not limited to, jewelry and/or makeup.
Sitting next to me, Em peeks from the side to see how I am handling this. I am in full glare with my mouth Open and eyebrows raised. The lecture continues.
I turn to Em and say - not quietly - "Does she lecture you all day like this, or does she teach you anything?"
Em stifles a giggle and whispers "No, she does teach us some things, but she does this alot."
Mrs XXX then moves her lecture to the finer points of school supplies and why everything on the list should be purchased. One of the other teachers picks up with her spiel about science and technology. Oh Thank God. Its CURRICULUM!!! The French teacher does her part and my jaw unclenches a little but I continue to stare at Emilys Teacher.
I have now Written you a letter about these shirts. I have written a letter to the principal, and you have the cojones to stand in front of ME and lecture ME about these shirts? For a good 20 minutes? You have lost your ever loving mind.
Furthermore, you just blew your last chance of redemption with me.
I almost feel sorry for you.