Last week of June

Molly's parents: still married.

Same issue, different year

When Devyn was pretty much the last child of her class out of the school today -- as she usually is -- I worried this time. Report cards were going home, and I didn't want her to look at hers.

She worries about report cards every year, though she does not yet have the work-for-good-marks drive. (At this point, school is all about the social environment and the physical activity for her, and I'm okay with that.)

So, we have the same conflict every year: she wants to see the end-of-year report; I do not yield.

Today, I wanted her to understand the basis of my decision, to reveal my opinion. 

Me: Do you know why I didn't let you read your report card?

Devyn: No...

Me: Because whether you have all As or all Fs, a report card can't tell us what you know or what you don't know, whether or not you can do something...

Devyn: (angry stare)

Me: It can only tell us what your teacher reports that she observed or was able to observe. And that's not the same thing, is it?

Devyn: No. (forgiving smile) 

Finally, after all these years, the conversation went as I'd wished. If I should someday decide that report cards are an objective measure by which my kid's self-esteem should be calibrated, I will let her read them and then have her tweak her self-evaluation accordingly. Until then, the report will represent a school-teacher-parent channel of communication only.

But ours is a personal, parenting decision. This means that some or many of Devyn's peers may read their report cards and have probably already done so. I am hoping that Devyn will remember that parents make decisions that are best for their own families.

What...? There's more?

I keep thinking back to that post by Jen Hatmaker* that went viral on Facebook -- the one I chose to read whilst sitting among all the ballet moms that I've never paid much attention to, the one that caused the laugh-choke-spray water reflex -- because it's that time of year.

My older child is still bringing home math homework, and has been almost every day these past two weeks or so.

I don't have five children, but I'm tired. There are, I think, about five days left of school for Devyn and, as much as I know that I am a role model, I can't help it. I hear myself saying, "Don't worry, report evaluations would have been submitted before the middle of June. It's not like she's going to mark it..."

Last night, Devyn's eyes rounded, her eyebrows lifted up to her hairline, and she practically whispered, "Mum, are you saying...I shouldn't do it?"

"Yes...No! I mean I'm saying not to get too stressed out about it."

But, hell, I'm stressed out about it. It bewilders me that the grade 4s are still doing anything important at all: the booklets look more like catch-up than review. 

"Uh, Mum? Are you telling me not to do my best?"

"No...Give me a minute."

Damn. At least, I know that she has been listening all these years.

I should think that Devyn's teacher would know better than anyone that it's JUNE, which isn't just the end of the school year; it's the end of ballet season, piano, theory, and vocal lessons (x2) for our children. Last month, we started recitals, end-of-year performance classes, rehearsals, dress rehearsals, costume fittings, music exams, and so on.

Finally, our last recital is on Saturday -- it's the big one that pretty much sells out the local convention centre -- and I can't get Molly's ballet slippers clean or find a passable pair of ballet tights for her to wear to the first dress rehearsal that is this evening. I realize that this doesn't sound like a huge deal, but to all involved, it actually is. On top of this, I keep putting laundered clothing in my bedroom only to find it in the unlaundered-clothes pile, so I will be doing laundry just to look for the one remaining suitable pair of tights that we have.

So, no, I don't want any more math homework this academic year. If my reaction to the tights is any indication, I need the summer break. Now.

But is there a silver lining, a bright side? I think it must be that I get to see that other mothers aren't perfect either because a lot of us are looking pretty harried.

It's all I can do now to sign the agenda every evening. I've only missed two days of signatures this week (which is half the total for the full year, I think) so if the teacher today leaves an empty little reminder circle where my initials should be...I swear, I just might cry.

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*http://jenhatmaker.com/blog/2013/05/30/worst-end-of-school-year-mom-ever