Things you can't bring to school
Sometimes I feel like a prison guard-and I don't mean in the fun "grab your ankles while I snap on this latex glove" way either. Though now that I'm thinking about it...I'll have to get back to you on that. What I mean is that I have been reduced to frisking my children before they embark each day to their respective educational institutions. This is an except from my conversations this week:
Ace: I have a project due Monday on Texas.
Me: Uh-huh
Ace: Can I bring a steak cut to look like Texas?
Me: No.
Ace: (Irritated) Why not?!
Me: I think their are rules about bringing raw meat to school.
Ace: That's a stupid rule.
Me: I couldn't agree with you more.
(70's style flash-back with groovy lights and wavy lines and that ultra-cool porn music)
I'm standing in the hallway. I'm in 5th grade and my teacher is giving me mixed look of horror and morbid curiosity. I see my 10 year old self handing her a crumpled brown paper bag-my science project. With trepidation she peels back the edges of the bag and peers inside. I am awash with pride and self-satisfaction as I am sure no one else has brought this for show-and-tell. She reaches into the bag; I can only imagine she is wishing for gloves right about now. She pulls out a bundle tightly wrapped in Saran wrap. She unrolls layers and layers of glistening plastic until there it is, lying all curled up in her hand: A perfectly dissected fetal pig.
To her credit, she did not do what I think any sane 5th grade teacher would have done and run screaming down the hall. She calmly began wrapping the pig back up, then placed it in the bag and handed it back to me. She didn't ask me how I came by such a thing (my mother was in nursing school-I totally stole her fetal pig. Because, yes, it is what every little girl secretly keeps under her bed along with the beheaded Barbies and legless GI Joes).
She didn't say much of anything, just told me to go back to class and take the pig home after school. You can't really bring raw meat to school, see, it's a really lame rule, I know.
(Scene dissolves and present day comes back into focus)
I’m dropping JC off at pre-K this morning. I look in the back seat and he has a death grip on several objects. We both know what’s coming.
Me: JC, you know you can not take the plastic hanger to school.
JC: Oh, yes, I DO! I take this toy to school.
Me: JC, that is not a toy; it is a hanger and it has pokey edges and you can not take it. You will get into trouble.
(I get a far away look in my eyes-dream sequence music begins-fuzzy edges surround the scene)
“And what do you want to be when you grow up, Susie?” The melodic voice of the pre-K teacher coos as a little blonde pirouettes in her fluffy pink tutu.
“Oh, I want to be a ballerina!”
“And, Johnny, what do you want to be?” She repeats to a helmet bedecked, pudgy little boy.
“I want to be a fireman!”
“Oh, and JC? What about you?”
“Oh, I want to be an abortionist.”
(Reality splashes back)
Yes, there are things you can not take to school-for a complete list, stay tuned…
Ace: I have a project due Monday on Texas.
Me: Uh-huh
Ace: Can I bring a steak cut to look like Texas?
Me: No.
Ace: (Irritated) Why not?!
Me: I think their are rules about bringing raw meat to school.
Ace: That's a stupid rule.
Me: I couldn't agree with you more.
(70's style flash-back with groovy lights and wavy lines and that ultra-cool porn music)
I'm standing in the hallway. I'm in 5th grade and my teacher is giving me mixed look of horror and morbid curiosity. I see my 10 year old self handing her a crumpled brown paper bag-my science project. With trepidation she peels back the edges of the bag and peers inside. I am awash with pride and self-satisfaction as I am sure no one else has brought this for show-and-tell. She reaches into the bag; I can only imagine she is wishing for gloves right about now. She pulls out a bundle tightly wrapped in Saran wrap. She unrolls layers and layers of glistening plastic until there it is, lying all curled up in her hand: A perfectly dissected fetal pig.
To her credit, she did not do what I think any sane 5th grade teacher would have done and run screaming down the hall. She calmly began wrapping the pig back up, then placed it in the bag and handed it back to me. She didn't ask me how I came by such a thing (my mother was in nursing school-I totally stole her fetal pig. Because, yes, it is what every little girl secretly keeps under her bed along with the beheaded Barbies and legless GI Joes).
She didn't say much of anything, just told me to go back to class and take the pig home after school. You can't really bring raw meat to school, see, it's a really lame rule, I know.
(Scene dissolves and present day comes back into focus)
I’m dropping JC off at pre-K this morning. I look in the back seat and he has a death grip on several objects. We both know what’s coming.
Me: JC, you know you can not take the plastic hanger to school.
JC: Oh, yes, I DO! I take this toy to school.
Me: JC, that is not a toy; it is a hanger and it has pokey edges and you can not take it. You will get into trouble.
(I get a far away look in my eyes-dream sequence music begins-fuzzy edges surround the scene)
“And what do you want to be when you grow up, Susie?” The melodic voice of the pre-K teacher coos as a little blonde pirouettes in her fluffy pink tutu.
“Oh, I want to be a ballerina!”
“And, Johnny, what do you want to be?” She repeats to a helmet bedecked, pudgy little boy.
“I want to be a fireman!”
“Oh, and JC? What about you?”
“Oh, I want to be an abortionist.”
(Reality splashes back)
Yes, there are things you can not take to school-for a complete list, stay tuned…