At My Kids’ School, I Need a Teacher Scorecard

For my kids’ school, I need a teacher scorecard. It’s not to score the teachers. It’s to keep track of them. Every year, a week before school starts, we used to get a phone call from each of my kids’ teachers introducing themselves. No more. Now we just head over four days before the first day of school and look for “the list”. Or in our case, having three kids in one school… one grade in fact… : “The lists”. Which kid has which friends in their class? Which kid has which enemies in their class? And most important: Which kid has which teacher… and for how long? Hence the need for the teacher scorecard.

baseball scorecard3

Let me say that I think all of my kids have had very good teachers so far (with the exception of one who was a newbie and in over her head.) But something’s just not right about this school. It’s their last year there so we’ll ride it out… I guess… Is it just me? You be the judge. Continue reading

Kids Keep You Young… Yeah, Bullshit

kids_alone_jpg_CROP_cq5dam_web_1280_1280_jpegYou’ve always heard that kids keep you young. I want proof. Are there actual studies on this? I think not. I know that I’ve conducted my own studies and am here to report to you that it’s all a big myth. I admit, the core group I’ve focused on has consisted of a small informal gathering of neurotic people.

Case Study #1: My father-in-law. He has had neck and back issues for most of his adult life. To what does he attribute his cervical demise? One might guess a massive car accident that he had years ago that kept him in the hospital for months. According to him, that doesn’t even compare to teaching his children how to ride a bike. Apparently, 40+ years ago, he ran through a park a couple of times, hunched over, one hand latched under the bottom of the seat, trying to keep up with three toddlers peddling feverishly on Schwinns and, as a reward for being a loving parent, he’s now almost a complete cripple. Every time we gather to visit him in Florida, my husband or sisters-in-law can rarely walk past him in a hallway or on their way into the pool without him yelling his mantra: “You ruined me! You ruined me!” Continue reading