School Handouts

Here's what. The Homework Folder.
This is what is in there for the student: The homework packet for the week on Mondays.
Here's what is in it for me, the parent: TONS AND TONS OF PAPERS.

In particular, there are an obscene amount of 'papers' that come home every Monday in my girl's homework folder. Seriously, I fill recycling bins. This is an environmental issue people. Al Gore, are you aware of this?

For instance, there are papers about buying groceries through the school. Does someone do this? Can I talk to you as to why you do this? I'm honestly not really understanding the benefits of this.

There are papers about anything and everything. It's like my personal little inbox.

Yesterday there was a flyer to encourage parents to become part of the parent/teacher organization next year. Mine had an extra envelope stapled to it with my name on it. It was a letter from the office to encourage me to put in a nomination to be on the parent/teacher organization board next year. Some might think, 'wow that's awesome, they must see some leadership qualities in me.'  No, this really isn't why they sent it to me. It's because I am in constant contact with the school and then also when her class is having a holiday celebration...here's me with like a freaking party in a box for these kids. I tend to have a slight obsession with party planning and also get nervous for the children in the class as they have a male teacher. Not saying anything bad, but you know sometimes men think that opening the box of juice boxes and opening the bag of pretzels constitutes as a holiday celebration. I love Mr. Taco, but I also know he would love some hot wings, pretzel nubs, and some yuengling at the end of the year party. Totally cool. I will totally bring the cupcakes, brownies, juice boxes, and apple slices so we can pretend to be healthy.

So anyway, to give me purpose and to get me to shut up and off their back, well they think giving me a job within the school might be an outlet for me. I can't help it if I think the Spaghetti Dinner could be so much more awesome. I will contemplate this idea for five minutes, I promised. But like I said, I have a bit of ocd in regards to events and so seriously the book fair will look like something from my pinterest board, and book fairs seriously aren't that deep. I don't know, I think feeding mental health issues might not be cool.

My fave things that come home in the folder are things that K completed in the last week of school. Now that reading and writing has become part of her skills that make her a first grader, I get lots of entertainment from these. I often find myself saying, 'I am totally keeping these.' I am hoping one day she snorts from laughter at what she wrote, or perhaps she could hate me forever for keeping them. Either way, some are that hilarious that I am willing to gamble. She has to do this journaling that is centered upon questions the teacher writes on the board and they have to answer them to the best of their ability practicing punctuation, spelling, and grammar.
Here are some highlights from last week:

What is your favorite food, tell me about it: 'My favouright food is pancaks. Pancaks are made from flower. Flower comes from wheet. Pancaks can be stiky. Have wipes on the table.'

Oooookkkkkk.....excellent advice for the person who might eat pancakes or the person that may have a wheat allergy. This child hates pancakes.

Tell me a funny thing that happened to you and how you felt: 'One time I took an egg and thru it into the air and it landed on my head and brooke. I felt imbareassed.'

She should be more embarrassed by the fact that this incident never once occurred. It happened to Judy Moody, but not Kendall Anne. I can easily understand the mistaken identity though. Beyond that, it takes incredible skill to throw an egg up in the air and have it land smack on your head.

Tell me an adventure you went on and what happened: 'One time I went on a bike ride with my Mom Mom and Pop. It was viry long. I thot my legs were going to not work ever again. They like to go far. We went down a big hill to look at a tree. The hill was dangerus. Pop said it was fun. Then I had to ride back. I wanted Pop to go get the truk. I did not say that becuse they were having fun. I wanted to ride to a ice crem place. That is an aventure to me. They say they like natur. They sleep out side to sumtime.'

This could all very well be true. I feel her pain. I am sure you know my issues surrounding bike rides. Outdoor adventures with my parents and sisters are a whole other post, or five hundred. I can with confidence say that yes, the hill probably was large and that my dad actually did in fact say this was fun. This is how he rolls. Again, another post.  However, my parents actually do own a home, with a bedroom ,and a bed. I can only assume she is referencing camping, unless of course she knows something about them that I do not, and if they truly do just go in the backyard to sleep sometimes, this is just information I would rather not know.

What also was in with these papers was a note from the school nurse. You know all about that hand out if your kid is in school, the handout. We received them many times last year, something about kindergartners I suppose. However, each time my reaction is the same, shear panic. I began scratching my head as soon as I placed it in my hands to read.

This is a nice and quaint letter to inform me that there is a student with lice in her classroom. Listen, I know about lice. Ok? I know it happens and I know its fairly normal. None of these facts matter to me. Last year the lice was in the classroom, but it was a student in the afternoon class. The risk goes down a little. This year it is a student in her class. This is all consuming worst case scenario, cause I am totally that person.

Of course the letter stated that my child was checked and she did not have lice at this time. However here's me: standing over Kendall as she sat at the kitchen table eating cereal this morning, going through her hair like I was some monkey. Listen, I never said I was perfect, perhaps the kitchen table is not an ideal spot to be examining a head for lice. However, I was reading this hand out at the kitchen table, there was no time to change positions, this is an emergency situation people.

I know that it is treatable. But let me tell you something. If there is lice on my child you will know it. Not only will I call everyone I know close to a nervous breakdown, if you were to drive by my home, it would  look like Elliot's home in E.T. when NASA comes to visit. Tubes from doorways to go in and out, white hazmat suits worn. If I find a nit in a hair you will hear me screaming from here to Louisiana.

I don't even care if you call me an over reactor.

Listen, an unmentionable smaller entity in what is my large family took themselves and their family away to a family friendly place and hotel and came back with lice. The sweetest place on earth gave them lice. I now, will never take my children to this place. That's how serious I am. I only go to their home now because I love them, and because I have to, they are family. These facts, combined with the fact that the lady of the house is just as obsessive as I am about this horror that invades our scalps. O.k., so perhaps I stayed away for a specific amount of time that was determined by myself, however, once cleared, I was rest assured all proper treatments and precautions were completed 75 times more then what is necessary.

We just got finished with showers and baths. The girl didn't want to be bothered with one this evening. I, of course, chimed in like a nice calm and rational adult, 'Oh no no no....you will get in the shower, you just went to school in a classroom with bugs that could be potentially looking at your dirty hair and thinking, that might make a nice nest. So no, in this house we shower morning and night.'

So thanks to this handout I have been itching my scalp all day long. I have also grabbed my children each time they have walked past me today to examine their heads because you never know when one might make their move. The back pack is on the front porch.

I don't play.

Watch we get it.

What am I going to do?

I hate school hand outs.

This will certainly be the next one: