4th Grade Parent’s Breakfast–A Celebration of Almost Everything I Hate
There are things I simply despise, rational or not these are key to my personality. The ones essential to this particular post are the following:
I hate getting up early (especially since I don’t get home from work till 3 am),
Children (other than mine),
Those children’s parents,
Looking at photographs (it depresses me more than most things),
Any PowerPoint anything,
Children (they are just sticky little miniature douchebags),
Awkward interactions with strangers,
Being crammed into enclosed spaces,
Those children’s parents taking photographs,
The movie “Independence Day”,
and last but certainly not least, children (and their germs and their general douchebaggery).
Because I dearly love my son I attended this abomination. I knew what I was getting into but it is one of those parental duties that god saddles you with as a penalty for enjoying sexual intercourse. We spent no small amount of time throwing together an Abraham Lincoln costume for his “presentation” last night; which only helped me to focus the dread of the morning to come. “Oh no…” I thought, “Speaking children…”.
As I staggered into the classroom with Shu I saw a claustrophobic panorama of children (of whom I was certain were at the very least, sticky & covered in germs) in costumes thrown together in equally rushed & haphazard ways; my favorite of these was a kid wearing a plain white T-shirt with Neil Armstrong crudely written across it in magic marker… For a brief moment that kid was my hero. So as I unenthusiastically picked from a table filled with obviously stale wholesale pastries (while secretly wishing it was an open bar) I endured child after child, going to the front of the class to spout out their key historical inaccuracies before returning to their desks, including a couple of lumbering geniuses who looked like they were trying to set a repeating 4th grade endurance record, they at least could have shaved for the occasion.
Logan however, found himself unable to rise to the occasion as he succumbed to the sheer terror of reading 3 sentences off of a blue note card in front of the classroom; I’d like to think he was having an existential crisis over the futility of it all; but it was probably just stage fright instead of the horrifying realization of a vicious, uncaring world where there is a very real chance that there will be a critical, possibly fatal, lack of resources within his lifetime-a minor disappointment really but I digress. When the presentations were over I thought I could escape but not before a seemingly endless PowerPoint slide show of badly composed photographs of the classes activities through the year. Now I am finally home trying to make sense of the horrors I witnessed before having to repeat a variation on this theme in Kira’s classroom next week.