Spike's Bitches 38: Well, This Is Just...Neat.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
So, uh...
Here's the thing: I was s'posed to call my wife to make sure she was awake at 6:30 am. But I missed my bus and had to figure out if/how I was going to get to work on time (I managed, but there was that whole "Aw, fucksticks" thing happening) and I got distracted by all that and didn't call and Aimee didn't wake up until 6:55.
So, I'm kinda a numbnuts.
In this public forum, here before God/Goddess/Anthropomorphic Personifications of Natural/Supernatural/Paranormal Forces and you, our friends, I say:
I'M SORRY AIMEE!!
But, see, really I'm a mean hardass bitch.
Which is why we love you and want you teaching OUR kids.
It's amusing to me (because I'm way the fuck over here and not in the situation) to see parents pushing hard for the promotion to Year 3 when she's clearly not ready, because Joe and I have this argument all. the. time. If we were approached by the school and a teacher that one of our kids should be "double promoted", my first instinct is to say, "Hell no." There were three kids that I went to school with that had been double promoted and while they were damn smart enough (and usually smarter) to be in our class, emotionally and socially, they were not, which for me, is just as important. Joe's first instinct is, "Hell yeah! Go Doogie! Go to med school! You're smarter! Than all of those other kids!"
Now, if my kid(s) were bored to the point of not being challenged and were causing mischief or disrupting class, then I'd really have to think about it. Maybe not a full double promotion, but going up a grade for reading and math. My elementary school did that with a lot of kids (myself included) and it seemed to work out better in the short and long run.
I'm sure there are people here that were double promoted (Kristin? I know I've had this conversation with you before.) and that my experience isn't everyone's, but on a gut level...
Plus, Em will probably be starting kindergarten when she's 4 (IN LESS THAN TWO YEARS!!) so she'll already be a lot younger than most of her classmates. Course, if we get to the summer before she starts and she's not ready, then she waits another year.
I'M SORRY AIMEE!!
You also forgot your iPod again. Sillyhead.
Fay, I'm sorry you are so unhappy about this situation. I like Gris's suggestion of a response letter. And ya know, if it weren't so much work to develop lesson plans in the first place, it might be ... interesting... to offer the girl lessons and most especially homework out of the year three skills, with only a modicum of explanation. I know that your approach to correcting the kids is designed to help them along without destroying whatever self-esteem they have - but self-esteem that is built on a false understanding of one's true abilities, is not real self-esteem. Her parents have no idea that they are teaching her that if she isn't kilometers ahead of everyone else, she's nowhere and no one, do they? Poor kid.
14UKEEPWAITING666
bwah!
You know, if they left it on my stoop in Baltimore, I would have known to look for it at my neighbors' (who would have it chilled and waiting [half-drunk] for me).
But, see, really I'm a mean hardass bitch.
What Aimee said.
she's learned to stay well-hydrated.
And not to trust the sparky-sox Y-chromasome side of the family's directions.
Happy Birthday, Juliana!
Fay, I abositively LOVE your profile, and now I am hella intimidated by creating one myself one of these days! (Which should be like next week, because time is marching on without a mate me.)
I think Gris' suggestion is a good one. I'm sorry you feel backed into doing things that make you feel uncomfortable. But being uppity is no one's friend.
Today I am going to sign up for the gym at my alma mater. I'd like to have options for treadmills for when the weather is not cooperating for outdoor training, and at some point I need to start swimming. What I am not doing today is much hands-on work. Unfortunately.
Happy Birthday New Year, Juliana!!!
I sort of skipped my last two years of high school - I was bored and the state was going to pay for me to go to a private college, so why not? In retrospect, I have really mixed feelings about all of it. At the time, I loved feeling older and free and on my own. But in my 20s, I really felt like I had missed out some.
My brother, OTOH, turned 6 the day before kindergarten started and when he was a senior, he and my parents really struggled because he really was ready to be on his own by then.
Personally, if it came up wrt Ellie, I really like Aimee's idea of letting her move ahead in subjects, but still staying with kids her age and likely graduating on time.
Also, Sox - WTF? December? How in the world do they expect productivity to be happening at all in that kind of environment?
My old Koogie-cat died this morning. He was about 18 years old. He'd been having troubles eating and drinking, and he was starting to stagger a lot. I've been watching him and thinking, "I'm going to have to make that decision soon."
Last night he was curled up in the pillows by my head, where he always sleeps, when we realized he'd urinated. We started to scold him, then we realized he was just blinking slowly at us, without any of the complaints he normally makes when he gets picked up. I held him and napped a bit with him curled up next to me until, at 5 AM, he shivered a little and left.
I thought I'd be a whole lot more freaked out, holding my deceased cat. Maybe it was because it took a couple of minutes to be sure, because he'd been so still and his breathing so quiet.
Hubby's much more torn up than I am. He remembers Mouse and beloved cats of his youth that he didn't get to say proper good-byes to. I'm ashamed of myself because my relief that it's over is not primarily because he doesn't have to be an old sick cat anymore but because I don't have to deal with an old sick cat anymore. I tear up occasionally, but I have little trouble fighting it back. And the damnedable writer's brain kept going, "This is how a creature dies, we must remember this."
Maybe it's shock. The generous part of myself says so. I suspect, though, that my practicality and stoicism is an acceptable mask for selfishness.