Why parents and teachers were never meant to be together
My mum and sisters and me have a thing for Simon Cowell. We slogged through 20 minutes of a Mark Wahlberg docu-drama (we don't like him much. Could you tell?) to watch "True Hollywood Story: Simon Cowell"
Only one thing I can say.
Oh. My. God. ROBSON GREEN CAN SING!
AND HIS MOTHER IS ADORABLE.
I mean, he was in Wire in the Blood. I watched that when I was 14, and came away with the impression that if the man did sing, it would involve all family members dying or disappearing after he came back from afternoon tea. I love the man silly, but gods he was depressing. Dr. Tony Hill made the TV want to bleed.
Golightly. Pfft.
Oh. And Simon is pretty damn amazing. His dad sounds loveable and his brother sounds like the Lord of the Manor with a capital M. And I thought bloody 'ell, that man truly has a pair. I'd have curled up and fallen over if I had been faced with half the problems he overcame. And Simon was adorable-looking when he was young.
Now, the point of this was not to gush over the man. I had my parent-lecturer meeting today.
I swear, all the teachers shared some form of an opiate or something. They kept disappearing, and when they returned and it was me and my parents' turn to speak to them, they were in heavenly moods.
A summary is called for.
In order of appearance:
My physics sir:
Oh she's been getting Cs for all the exams, but she's above-average. Good student, I see potential to get a distinction.
Me (in my head):
Oh good Shinou man, how on Earth is a C even within SIGHT of a distinction? How? How???????
I get confused by him frequently. That's why there's not much I can say, since he's nice but terribly ineffective.
My biology sir:
Lawd man, what the blazes do you teach your child at home? She asks, she asks, she asks. I tell her that it's a fundamental law and she's like, damnit sir, why? She's smart, she does well, I personally mess with the tests so that they're incredibly hard. I target an A for her, and she gets As and Bs for the tests, so I reckon she'd do all right for the exams this January. *turns to me* Dude, seriously. Embrace the way of the mind map.
Me:
No
My biology sir:
Fine enough.
Dad:
Embrace it! Embrace it!!!!!!
Mum:
She annoys us at home to.
It was a bunch of fun. He's a nice, smart, sarcastic man.
My statistics sir:
*guffaws* LOL, you're daughter is a pillar of virtue. She has the right attitude, to succeed at life. What do you want to be? A doctor, right? Never mind, you'll do well. She's so hard-working!
Dad:
Define "hard"
Stats sir:
*ignores* She sits in the front row, concentrates, listens. Yeah, kids don't think enough now. Or listen. Yeah. And she's so careful! And potential-full! And she got a B for my test! *ruffles paper* *looks at me* Your mates got 2 out of 20. And she always asks when she doesn't understand. And she's got the right attitude. Like, non-defeatist. Dudes *adresses parents*, so many kids give up so fast. Oh not your little girl. She doesn't stop. And she sits in front, and she does her work! She'll succeed. At maths. And Life.
*guffaws*
We all be the awesome man.
*end*
I suspect he supplied the poppy flowers. I love him dearly, that old, old man. He was ridiculously flattering. I didn't know where to put my face that didn't make me feel unbearably shy. I can't quote him clearly, because when dazed my mind gives.
My mathematics teacher:
*shuffles papers* Full attendance, yeah. And her marks are very good. A, A, B. She isn't noisy, very nice in class. Why did you phail for the third test Mu?
Me:
I phail at log. Truly. Oh, and you calculate the area of a triangle with cos *flashes grin*
Maths teacher:
No mistakes in Maths. She's a good student, and I predict she can get and A for maths, but mu, you have to stop making careless mistakes. And ask. If you know your phailure is due to log, ask me. I will beat log into submission, until you can get it.
Not much of a fuss, she being very efficient, brisk and nice, me being someone who, while decently capable, dislikes calculation.
My Chemistry teacher:
She makes careless mistakes. The silly twit, she'd have gotten a much higher score had she not confused water bottles with rubber hosing. She's one of my favourite girls in class, but she's ridiculously careless .
Me:
Sorry miss, but I had terrible time issues with the test. I kind of overlooked the last two pages until you said there was 10 minutes left
Chem miss:
*blank stare*
Mum:
*blurts* She hearts you, miss
Chem miss:
Yeah? Thanks. *shuffles papers*
(now, mum thinks this was because she was pleased but embarrassed. I think it's because she's so full of win that she hears proclamations of love more often than I hear my name being called)
Chem miss:
Not much too say. She did well because she followed what I told her to. Some of the brighter kids are a wee bit egoistic, so they reject my answers and substitute them with their own. They messed up. Nah, Mu's very good-natured, polite, respectful, obedient, well-mannered. A credit to you guys. Not much more I can say. Just stop making careless mistakes, and make friends with time. And try not to write half a dissertation for a two mark question.
And that was it. An event I'd been angst-ing about for over a week, and I've been sent away with glowing recommendations. Like any good mum, mum took credit.
"I knew you were brilliant. That's why you oughtn't be getting Bs at all. I have faith. You can do it. Just do it. Get out there and get me my 4 As"
Now I'm scared sillier than ever, because the weight of damned expectation has been placed on me.
I had an easier time of it when I suspected that my teachers thought I was an inquisitive clueless yo-yo-ing over-under-achiever.
Now I have to actually worry constantly about my conduct. Oh dear, oh dear. And mum wonders why I'm so uptight all the time.
Three guesses mum.
And I've got a nasty Chem paper on monday. That I apparently have to do well at or the miss will murder me for being inconsistent. I tell everyone that I'm accidentally-intelligent and I'm ignored. But when things like this morning happen and I really want to say something, I don't because I reckon it'd sound terribly boastful. I'm too scared ask if my parents are proud that the teachers say I'm such an accomplished student. But I want to ask quite badly.
And mum says I'm a lazy lump at home, and I'd benefit from a bit of a push.
Maybe I'll gain momentum and speed like a barrel down a hill.
Here's to hoping, at least,
Mugen Pessimistic Edamame
Only one thing I can say.
Oh. My. God. ROBSON GREEN CAN SING!
AND HIS MOTHER IS ADORABLE.
I mean, he was in Wire in the Blood. I watched that when I was 14, and came away with the impression that if the man did sing, it would involve all family members dying or disappearing after he came back from afternoon tea. I love the man silly, but gods he was depressing. Dr. Tony Hill made the TV want to bleed.
Golightly. Pfft.
Oh. And Simon is pretty damn amazing. His dad sounds loveable and his brother sounds like the Lord of the Manor with a capital M. And I thought bloody 'ell, that man truly has a pair. I'd have curled up and fallen over if I had been faced with half the problems he overcame. And Simon was adorable-looking when he was young.
Now, the point of this was not to gush over the man. I had my parent-lecturer meeting today.
I swear, all the teachers shared some form of an opiate or something. They kept disappearing, and when they returned and it was me and my parents' turn to speak to them, they were in heavenly moods.
A summary is called for.
In order of appearance:
My physics sir:
Oh she's been getting Cs for all the exams, but she's above-average. Good student, I see potential to get a distinction.
Me (in my head):
Oh good Shinou man, how on Earth is a C even within SIGHT of a distinction? How? How???????
I get confused by him frequently. That's why there's not much I can say, since he's nice but terribly ineffective.
My biology sir:
Lawd man, what the blazes do you teach your child at home? She asks, she asks, she asks. I tell her that it's a fundamental law and she's like, damnit sir, why? She's smart, she does well, I personally mess with the tests so that they're incredibly hard. I target an A for her, and she gets As and Bs for the tests, so I reckon she'd do all right for the exams this January. *turns to me* Dude, seriously. Embrace the way of the mind map.
Me:
No
My biology sir:
Fine enough.
Dad:
Embrace it! Embrace it!!!!!!
Mum:
She annoys us at home to.
It was a bunch of fun. He's a nice, smart, sarcastic man.
My statistics sir:
*guffaws* LOL, you're daughter is a pillar of virtue. She has the right attitude, to succeed at life. What do you want to be? A doctor, right? Never mind, you'll do well. She's so hard-working!
Dad:
Define "hard"
Stats sir:
*ignores* She sits in the front row, concentrates, listens. Yeah, kids don't think enough now. Or listen. Yeah. And she's so careful! And potential-full! And she got a B for my test! *ruffles paper* *looks at me* Your mates got 2 out of 20. And she always asks when she doesn't understand. And she's got the right attitude. Like, non-defeatist. Dudes *adresses parents*, so many kids give up so fast. Oh not your little girl. She doesn't stop. And she sits in front, and she does her work! She'll succeed. At maths. And Life.
*guffaws*
We all be the awesome man.
*end*
I suspect he supplied the poppy flowers. I love him dearly, that old, old man. He was ridiculously flattering. I didn't know where to put my face that didn't make me feel unbearably shy. I can't quote him clearly, because when dazed my mind gives.
My mathematics teacher:
*shuffles papers* Full attendance, yeah. And her marks are very good. A, A, B. She isn't noisy, very nice in class. Why did you phail for the third test Mu?
Me:
I phail at log. Truly. Oh, and you calculate the area of a triangle with cos *flashes grin*
Maths teacher:
No mistakes in Maths. She's a good student, and I predict she can get and A for maths, but mu, you have to stop making careless mistakes. And ask. If you know your phailure is due to log, ask me. I will beat log into submission, until you can get it.
Not much of a fuss, she being very efficient, brisk and nice, me being someone who, while decently capable, dislikes calculation.
My Chemistry teacher:
She makes careless mistakes. The silly twit, she'd have gotten a much higher score had she not confused water bottles with rubber hosing. She's one of my favourite girls in class, but she's ridiculously careless .
Me:
Sorry miss, but I had terrible time issues with the test. I kind of overlooked the last two pages until you said there was 10 minutes left
Chem miss:
*blank stare*
Mum:
*blurts* She hearts you, miss
Chem miss:
Yeah? Thanks. *shuffles papers*
(now, mum thinks this was because she was pleased but embarrassed. I think it's because she's so full of win that she hears proclamations of love more often than I hear my name being called)
Chem miss:
Not much too say. She did well because she followed what I told her to. Some of the brighter kids are a wee bit egoistic, so they reject my answers and substitute them with their own. They messed up. Nah, Mu's very good-natured, polite, respectful, obedient, well-mannered. A credit to you guys. Not much more I can say. Just stop making careless mistakes, and make friends with time. And try not to write half a dissertation for a two mark question.
And that was it. An event I'd been angst-ing about for over a week, and I've been sent away with glowing recommendations. Like any good mum, mum took credit.
"I knew you were brilliant. That's why you oughtn't be getting Bs at all. I have faith. You can do it. Just do it. Get out there and get me my 4 As"
Now I'm scared sillier than ever, because the weight of damned expectation has been placed on me.
I had an easier time of it when I suspected that my teachers thought I was an inquisitive clueless yo-yo-ing over-under-achiever.
Now I have to actually worry constantly about my conduct. Oh dear, oh dear. And mum wonders why I'm so uptight all the time.
Three guesses mum.
And I've got a nasty Chem paper on monday. That I apparently have to do well at or the miss will murder me for being inconsistent. I tell everyone that I'm accidentally-intelligent and I'm ignored. But when things like this morning happen and I really want to say something, I don't because I reckon it'd sound terribly boastful. I'm too scared ask if my parents are proud that the teachers say I'm such an accomplished student. But I want to ask quite badly.
And mum says I'm a lazy lump at home, and I'd benefit from a bit of a push.
Maybe I'll gain momentum and speed like a barrel down a hill.
Here's to hoping, at least,
Mugen Pessimistic Edamame