It is that time of year again when I get to suffer through Back To School Night. There are only so many BTS Nights a girl can go to before she begins to lose her sense of humor, and people, I have lost my sense of humor.
This leaves me with the alternative to listening to the teachers, and that alternative is to ridicule the people I see at BTS Night in my own head, of course, while I ma in the physical building, but when I leave, well, it's a free for all. Now I have a blog and I get to share these thoughts (which will send me straight to hell) with you, dear reader. Have I mentioned how much I appreciate you guys lately?
Teachers. There is a big crop of new teachers in our town. It is interesting ... especially to me who has one discriminatory tendency ... and that means I am an age-ist. Oh my lord, I have to sit there, (have I mentioned that I am an ex-NYC public school teacher?) and listen to these 25 year old kids telling me they know what they are doing. PPffttt!!! Hey man, I pretended I knew what I was doing when I was 25 too and I know they are lying! The big difference between me listening to them and my old student's parents listening to me when I was 25 (and admittedly clueless) is that I have 15 (or so ) years on these youngster teachers. When I was teaching I was usually around the same age as the teen parents of the kids in my class. Every once in a while I was older than their parents, and I was most definitely the only one in the room with a high school diploma, let alone a Master's degree. (DId I mention I was teaching in the South Bronx? (Tough crowd up there)
Also, when I was a youngster green as can be teacher I wore a suit to BTS Night and not a skin tight sleeveless sweater and a mini skirt with no stockings and high heels. Jeez. Someone missed the memo on professional dressing and Matt has her for one of his academic subjects. This slightly chubby buxom young young young teacher stood before me in a way too tight sweater, saying "Ummmm" between every fifth word telling me how she is the expert on what my kid needs. People, what my teenage son needs is a teacher in a bigger shirt, preferably one that conceals her young future bat wings and ample bosom, because when the mother of the teenage boy can tell you with utmost certainty that your bra had three hooks on it and one of those little cleavage bows, then your shirt hasn't fit you in about 30 pounds and should absolutely not be worn in front of the TEENAGE BOYS who will be distracted by your youthful full figured gal shape. I'm just saying. In a surprise twist of fate this isn't Matt's favorite subject! (I am sure the UMMMs are throwing him off balance.) (And I absolutely did not tell him that I was unable to stay awake in this very same subject for my entire academic career)
Yeah, I feel threatened by the (baby) young teachers. I want to tell them to have a life and get back to me. I am totally willing to listen to anyone older than me before I decide I know better than they do.
Now, the wardrobe was not an issue at Evan's BTS Night. His teachers were dressed impeccably. They presented themselves as the professionals we should be paying them as. As I sat and ignored Evan's teacher, who was wearing black trousers, black shirt and a smart tweedy jacket, it suddenly occurred to me that there may be some swelling in her abdominal region. Panicked I look towards the mom who is a nurse and visually commanded her to look back at me. No luck. She was actually listening to the teacher and this was her 4th BTS Night! Finally when the eternal power point presentation, through which the only thing I actually heard inside my head was my own terribly excited (and not in good way either) voice going something like "OH MY FREAKING GOD! SHE HAS TO BE PREGNANT!!", was over I caught the nurse moms eye and mouthed with great exaggeration so as not to have to do it more than once "Is she pregnant?" And Nurse Mom nodded in the affirmative.
Why? Why do they do this to Evan? His second grade teacher was preggers too. Are they out to get him? Is this some sort of test? We are waving the white flag!! And, she is due in February and rumor has it she is leaving in November. Great, ask me when kids really fall into their school routine. About November. I spent the rest of BTS Night trying not to hyperventilate, I was that upset.
Enough of that on to the parent watching segment of this painfully long post. As you know I live in Stepford. Yes, this town lacks ethnic diversity. It also lacks fashion diversity, with the exception of a select small few, and it was those small few that just make BTS Night for me. Typically the folks of my own special Stepford wear pretty boring asexual type clothing. Think Preppy Handbook 25 years later. What happens to Preppies in 25 years? Well, all that tennis, through the teeth talking, air kissing, and cocktail hours does bad things for the skin. The once naturally blonde hair goes brown and then gray, and there fore needs highlighting. Or striping , as I like to call it. Sorry, I know there are gobs of bleach blondes out there, but I saw this movie once called "Sid and Nancy" about Sid Vicious and in the movie Nancy had this bleached to straw texture blonde hair and ever since that movie I see bleached to straw hair whenever I see a bleach blonde. Also, really, when half the town does it, it isn't special anymore. So, the uniform in Stepford goes like this, clothes from Banana Republic, Talbots, J. Crew or other brand name post preppy no longer sexual human being, khakis or slacks, and a really boring shirt. I just want to be upfront here and admit that not only did I own the Preppy Handbook as a High School student, but I dressed the part. Now if by chance my little sister should happen to read this post, I just want to say that I own up to my preppy past. I may not be proud, but I am not in denial. (This is not to say that I do not dress in the stepford uniform now, because I pretty much do-except my clothes come from the women's department of a department store that caters to the customer with some really awesome customer service) Tennis clothes are good. ( I do not dress in those) and workout clothes are acceptable when you have actually been to the gym (guilty). But I have to say one thing. There was quite a bit of talk around town when a certain mother unfortunately wore pants with little martini glasses embroidered all over them to the first PTO meeting. Shameful. Some thought it was inappropriate. (Get a life people! Or at least a blog!)
Every once in a while a woman will get out there and flaunt her stuff and be different. I applaud those chicks, because without them, what would I have to blog about? These are the rebels I spotted in the few BTS Nights: The woman who still thinks she is a teenager: M.O. mini skirt, high heeled wedgies, tight blouse, bright colorful makeup,and must have LONG hair. Typically this woman would have been called Olive Oil in High school but now has a rocking body since pregnancy for her meant finally getting hips and boobs while the rest of her stayed thin. The hippy: really long gauze skirt, equally long hair, no make up, deodorant optional. Her kid brings sprouts at lunch time and is disgusted by other kids meat sandwiches. . We all know one of those. The Lorenzo: Looks like she hailed from Brooklyn circa 1983. Bangs are teased and sprayed, ever present gum chewed to one side, clothes too tight, mascara thick, much like the teacher in paragraph 3. Her daughters are bitches and her sons beat kids up. She has no idea why. And then there is The Grandma/mama. She had her kid(s) late in life and makes no effort to prove she is anything less than 15 years your senior. She wears her gray hair , orthopedic shoes, LL Bean loose fit jeans, and 100% cotton turtle neck with pride. She owned her purse back when you were single. She'll hang on every word the teacher says and her kids will be very adult and well mannered. They will also smell like mothballs, so your kids won't want to sit next to them, and then her kids all get full scholarships to wherever they want to go because they are the most serious of students.
OK, so maybe we aren't so homogenous.
