Wednesday, August 29, 2007

I’ll Get You My Pretty

For the past week, The Girl has regaled us with enthusiastic tales of Middle School. She likes her teachers, loves having a locker, takes great responsibility in choosing a healthy lunch from the numerous options provided by the cafeteria and has put the whole nonsense about not having recess behind her. Each morning, she bounced out of bed at the sound of her alarm, dressed with great care, and happily set off on her short walk to the school; her happiness could not have been more complete had bluebirds landed on her shoulders and joined in whistling a freaking tune.

Naturally, for the past week; I have held my breath in silent dread of the moment when something would go horribly wrong and, that moment came yesterday when the child informed me, through a flood of tears, that she had been taken out of her PE class and reassigned to an additional math class. And, even though the teachers had stressed that it wasn’t because she was dumb or anything- just that they felt she needed a little extra practice- they totally made her feel dumb and, just what am I and her father going to do about this injustice?! She needs PE! She needs the exercise! She needs to improve her coordination and to build endurance!

And, yes, while it is true that all her friends are in her PE class and none of them are in the additional math class; that is totally not the point! Exercise, mother! Exercise is the point!

Le sigh.

I am less torn about the situation than I would have thought possible. She needs good math skills in order to do well in life, period. And, I seriously doubt that a semester break from her friends in PE class will prove detrimental to her social skills so; the math class it shall be.

In defense of my choice, I will remind her that I too suffered from a lack of mathematical genius for which my parents opted to have me spend a summer being tutored. Clearly, it didn’t kill me and, contrary to what she might think, I still made friends.

Plus, the case she is pleading tends to fall apart when one considers that this is the same child who routinely brought home low grades in elementary PE. As I recall, Not Participating Adequately being the recurrent memo on her report cards (one of her teachers once asked me what I thought it would take to get her to run the required timed mile and I honestly answered: a hungry lion chasing her. True story).

So, really, my decision has already been made even before I meet with her teachers at tomorrow night’s Back to School Open House and, since Hugh is working some extra hours for the police department while some of the regular officers are taking vacation time; guess who gets to be the bad guy and lock Rapunzel in the horrible Math Tower where she will whither and die on the Social Vine?

I might as well grow a hairy wart on my nose right now.


  1. Getting out of PE? That was a bigger fantasy of mine than the one about John Cusack & stereo & trench coat & my back yard.

  2. Big hairy warts on the nose is the lastest fashion for mothers of middle school kids. Didn't you get the memo?