Friday, January 17, 2014

Back Away Slowly

After the Man-Cub's basketball game last night (at which he scored his first three-point shot, can I get a woot-woot!), The Teenager raised the question of whether or not the math class he is currently taking will actually qualify toward his graduation requirements.

Why was she asking? I asked the same damn question.

It appears that there have been several students who have reached the end of their four years at Petticoat Junction High, only to learn that they lacked a credit necessary to graduate. Or, that they had enough credits to graduate, but lacked a credit critical to acceptance to a four-year college.

When she learned that interesting bit of trivia, she immediately audited her transcripts to ensure that she didn't share in that misfortune. In doing so, she arrived at the conclusion that the Man-Cub's Integrated Math I class failed to meet the requirements for the college tract since it is not Algebra I (nor Algebra II, nor Geometry, nor Statistics. You get the point).

She further fretted that, if she was right, the Cub would find himself doubling up on math classes in the next two years to make up for the missing credit. Which, I'm sure we can all agree, would suck.

Exponentially.

So, this morning, I called the school to inquire of the (somewhat worthless) guidance counselor about whether or not I should be concerned. The call went unreturned (no huge surprise there, see above: somewhat worthless), so,  I next took it upon myself to call the school's Student Advocate, who, being awesome, hunted down the counselor and the principal in an effort to get me an answer.

Within five minutes of her efforts, I had phone calls from both the counselor and the principal, assuring me that the Cub was fine; Integrated Math I has taken the place of Algebra I and all is well. No worries, here.

Except it went more like: "The Cub is on track to meet the requirements for admission to a four year college and things are just peachy, OK? Really. Peachy. Could. Not. Be. Better! The Cub is awesome. You are awesome. Is there anything else we can do for you? Anything at all? Please, tell us. Honestly, we are here for you."

They approached me with the caution of a police negotiator talking a sniper out of  a bell tower, is what I'm saying.

Obviously, my reputation for being THAT PARENT is solid. I credit (blame?) the whole volleyball/powder puff football debacle for this turn of events.

Which, also kind of sucks.

Although, not exponentially.

'Cause, I;m not gonna lie; this shit is kind of empowering. Maybe I should have gone all helicopter-parent sooner.

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