So I went to middle school orientation last night, and I learned two things; that (1) I apparently need new glasses because the screen was blurry from the back row of the auditorium and (2) I should start on a daily regimen of Xanax now.
I mean it all started out fine with the principal talking about how wonderful the school was and how he felt like his job wasn't a job at all (to which I cry bullshit because you're the principal of 6th, 7th and 8th graders) and sunshine and roses, and oh good, I already can tell I'm going to like this school. Then after he starts talking we go to the assistant principal who starts talking about how this school is a "high-achieving" school, and I'm all like oh yeah, my daughter's college resume is going to look wonderful with painted roses around the word "high-achieving" school. I settle in for a good listen, as good as I can settle into this hard ass wood chair that barely fits my adult-sized ass.
Suddenly, and out of nowhere, I'm slammed straight up in the face with acronyms for which I can't remember what the fuck they stand for now because I'm trying to take notes on my iPhone because fuck me if I'll remember all this shit in five minutes. So we move past the acronyms, for which I will find out later the meanings, to the math, the dreaded math, and how the entire school-based curriculum is being overhauled, and oh would you look at that, it's going to take effect right when your gloriously barely-hanging-onto-math child will be entering the 6th grade. I sit up straight feeling my heart in my throat and get all teary eyed. What the hell am I getting myself into because as the world of homework sits right now in 5th grade, I don't do a damn thing with her, not because I don't want to (well, that) but because I don't have to. She's totally got her act together. I check in with her teacher when need be. She's got a grasp on her math now. She turns her stuff in on time. She's excelling in everything (except math), and I'm a happy camper. Apparently, this is all coming to a screeching halt next year as the math teacher who is speaking up at the podium is speaking in a tone that clearly expresses her own stress.
I sit up straight in my hard-as-brick chair and look around at the other parents' faces. Clearly, from the way I see it, I am the only one concerned about anything middle-school-related. What is wrong with me I think as I look around at all the tarts texting on their phones and the husbands of said tarts are yawning in their seats. I start sweating and panting (or at least I feel that I am), and thankfully, these teachers start talking about the amount of time these wonderful and rainbow-hugging teachers put into tutoring before school, after school and even have classes during the daytime for tutoring. I start to relax a little more when they tell me that they have this new (for me it's new) system at this grade level where every parent has a code and access to the child's grade and homework daily. Ooh yeah, I got this I say, and then I remember how the fuck am I going to remember to check the goddamn program every day when I more often than not forget to change a diaper until I smell shit.
*breathe in, breathe out* I leave befuddled and fumble for the keys to my car as if I had been drinking for the last hour-and-a-half only to be greeted at the door to an excited almost-6th grader asking all sorts of questions and has all sorts of giddy smiles on her face. I look at her like I do about 90% of the time and say, "Jilly, you're gonna love the crap out of this school," and I go grab a wine glass and shakily pour myself some wine and write myself a note to call the doctor tomorrow for that prescription of Xanax that I am going to need pretty soon.
*cheers my friends*