Lust and Sloth

It was parent conference week for the kids. I used to hate parent conference week when I was teaching. First, dealing with report cards was never fun, then the whole week the kids' schedules were off, and add to that meeting with 20 sets of parents, many of whom I would have to basically chase down, and well, I was happy it only came twice a year. As a parent, it has been a bit of a pain as well, as it means that Magnolia gets out early every day (1:40) but Max gets out at the same time (2:30) so my day is chopped up something awful. It being a busy week anyway, between prepping for a show tomorrow (and realizing only a week ago how small my inventory had gotten) and having a huge translation project due for a client, never mind my usual mom stuff, my usual work stuff, and the fact that taxes are still hanging over my head, and the week wasn't looking pretty.

So I manage to remember to show up for Max's conference, and overall, he's doing fine. Academically, fine. He's ready for kindergarten. No surprise there, as many of our conversations lately go something like this:

Max: Where is my camera?

Me: I don't know, where did you last have it?

Max: C-C-C-C-C camera!

Me: Uh huh

Max: Camera begins with a C!

Me: yep.

But the teacher does have a concern. Evidentally, he has a very hard time facing forward on the rug. He insists on sitting sideways, and even when corrected, will eventually swivel back to being sideways. Huh. Really? This is the big problem? I mean, I volunteer in this class and there are kids running around, and hitting, and my kid sitting sideways is the big concern? Ok. Whatever. It's preschool for goodness sake, I am not going to be too worried about it. Then the teacher leans in, somewhat conspiratorially and says, sotto voce, "you know he's in love with Nearaiah, right?". Actually, yes, yes, I do...because he has been talking, dreaming, and scheming about her since October. He says he loves her, he wants to marry her, when you mention school, he mentions Nearaiah. At their birthday party last week, all he cared about was her coming, and the minute she did, he took her to his room and they got into his bed. Nothing happened there, they just went up and hung out for a bit, before heading to the jumper...but seriously, this girl hung the moon, as far as Max is concerned. So, guess where her assigned place on the rug is? Yep. To his side, but not directly next to her...so in order to see her, he has to swivel. Heh. It seems to me an easy solution would be to re-assign her spot on the rug to be in front of him, if his swiveling is such a concern, but I guess I am not the teacher. I tell her I will talk to him about it.

Cut to the next day, and it is time for Magnolia's conference. She is working above grade level, she has the highest grade you can get in all of the language arts areas and in math. She is likely highly gifted, she is well behaved, and the teacher loves her. Great! Yeah, except for one thing. She's lazy as all get out and her homework is minimalistic and sloppy, and there are days where her work in school is too. So, we need to find ways to motivate her and make sure she works up to her potential. Oh, and also she happened to be a part of a clan of first grade girls who stole shoes from a group of second grade boys (why were their shoes off?) and hid them at recess the day before. I see.

Going home, I called Michael, and went over everything that had gone down in the meeting. He sort of sighed...none of this is news to us. He bemoaned the fact that fixing these issues weren't easy...why couldn't there be easier issues- like, having trouble with addition? No, our kids are bright, that is for sure, and with the brightness comes a different level of challenges, strategies that need more than just flashcards. And once again, I harken back to the conversation I had with a good friend of mine, the mother of Magnolia's best friend since birth, when the kids were about 20 months old, and Magnolia had pulled off some kind of sneaky feat...after hearing about what Mags had done, my friend sighed and said with not a bit of faceciousness "Man, I'm glad my kid is just average." Sing it, sister.