I just got back from Parent-Teacher Conferences, which is always a treat. I know they call them SEP’s or SEOP’s, but I’m old school and can’t help calling them Parent-Teacher Conferences because that’s what they are. If you call them anything else, it confuses the old people.
“S-E-WHAT?”
Student. . .Evalu. . . You know, where the parents meet with the teacher?
You mean Parent-Teacher Conferences?
Yeah. Uh hum. Pretty much.
Oh, the complication of our modern age! When I went to Owen’s conference today, he showed us his report on wolves on the teacher’s laptop in powerpoint presentation–swirly words magically appearing and scanned art and it almost made me want to read more about wolves. Just kidding! It’s still the same old information about types of wolves, how much they weigh, etc. Nothing about “wolves of the future,” or anything to rival the technology it was presented on. Whatever. He also wrote a persuasion essay (on boring, regular wide-ruled archaic paper) about how I won’t buy him the book he wants at the book fair. (If you’re Santa, it’s the overpriced one that reveals video game secrets.) Nothing spices up a Parent-Teacher Conference like avoiding the awkward essay criticizing your parenting skills!
Phoebe showed me her writing journal and I was so excited that there was something about ME in it! After years of reading they boys’ journal entries about Pokemon, Mario Brothers, Kirby, holidays, birthday parties, and candy, it was refreshing to finally make the cut into the grade school publication world. She actually drew three different pictures of “Phoebe and Mom” and in each entry, I have a different color of hair. Dark, yellow and brown, and yellow, which is funny because I have actually had all three of those hair colors in the past few months. I’m glad she noticed and, more importantly, that I’m influencing her education in a meaningful way.
Miles has been working on remembering to hand things in and it’s paying off, thank goodness, or I might have to start pinning his assignments to his shirt. Or continue doing that. I admit nothing. We’ve made some new goals that involve cleaning out his desk. He may have been caught reading Popular Science once or twice when he was supposed to be listening. I was just relieved to know that it’s not just me!
Hugh didn’t have a Parent Teacher conference, but I think it’s time he had a formal evaluation, you know, now that I’m all caught up in it. I asked Hugh what comes after Halloween and he said “seven.” I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up and he said “a monster.” Interpret that how you will.
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