I know Mes ‘Rents had to have told me at least a hundred times that they hope I have a kid that gives them as much grief as I gave them. Disclaimer: I was a really good kid, but I was an ornery, smart and chatty young’un. That led to me getting into trouble at school, a lot. Nothing overly major, mind you. Humming in class got me paddled; passing notes (which I didn’t even read or write, I was the go-between) got me paddled; getting a milk shake as an 8th grader from a 6th grader, over a fence got me paddled; talking in class got me 30 days in post-lunch detention (I got no recess). Oddly enough, even with all that happening, the teachers, for the most part, really liked me. I was the “pet” to several of them.
Well, the “prophecy” has come true and I got a kid… Just. Like. Me. And, for this I must apologize to Mes ‘Rents almost every time I have to deal with him. Whether they hear it or not, I constantly am in awe at what they must have gone through, especially with my sister. She had to have been worse than me, right?
So, I don’t think he’d enjoy having his business thrown up here, but you know what? I’m ticked and am not too overly concerned about what he’s enjoying right now. I’m venting and ranting. His grades have been in the gutter, really, since around 6th grade. He’s halfway through 8th, right now. They’re almost at rock bottom and it’s not from inability; it’s from do-less-ness, mostly. So, we’re trying to get him motivated about bringing some of the stuff up and how it will impact his ability to do the fun classes in 9th grade, due to stripping him of electives to force him into the same core classes that he hates right now. This, I felt really good about yesterday.
Today, I get a call from a teacher, who is livid because he’s constantly disruptive, drumming on things and being disrespectful. And, she’s writing a D1 (that’s a disciplinary action form). I’m on the eve of “The Big Job” and can’t go to the school right now to yank him out of class and administer a violent response. He’s lucked out on that front. I have never been violent towards him and the closest he’s really ever been to spanked, or the like, was a rather firm slap on the leg from the front seat to the back where he was back-talking. Although, I’ve never done that. I want to go flog him in front of the whole school, right now. I want so much for him but he’s not cooperating. I expect him to do what he’s supposed to do. After that, he can do what he wants to do. I love him more than anything in this world but right now, I am very unhappy with him. And after all this, I think I just Mondayed in my pants…
Until tomorrow, same blog channel…
“Expectation is the mother of all frustration.” – Antonio Banderas