My fourth hour class, the children we were seriously inconvenienced when we had to move the date of their final up by 24 hours, was actually quietly working. I hated to interrupt them to move them to further instruction. Neither I nor my para could believe that this group of kiddos had it in them. It was like a gift from God.
My fifth hour final consisted of one thing: ice cream sundaes.
| Chocolate is necessary in all ice cream sundaes. Not kidding. |
It was yearbook, we don't have a district-mandated final (I'll take the credit for that), and we were celebrating our completed spring supplement deadline. Everyone was in charge of something to bring. During the planning phase, one of the kids asked what would happen if they forgot to bring their contribution. I told them they'd fail the final. When the time came, I took roll call by saying things like:
Laura: bowls?
Danielle: rootbeer?
Jack: straws?
Everyone pulled through except Nicole. She said, "I didn't think you were serious." You know what Nicole was supposed to bring? Chocolate sauce. What kind of ice cream sundae party doesn't include at least one bottle of squeezable chocolate syrup? Seriously.
But, some people don't get that what they do or don't do actually impacts others.
Nicole also proceeded to ask me when I was to birth this child and if I would text her on the way to the hospital. Things to learn here: a.) It matters not that I might be slightly uncomfortable and not feel like texting anyone at all, including Nicole. b.) It doesn't occur to Nicole that if I did feel like texting someone, I might have other people in my circles that would have more priority; and c.) Nicole is the center of the universe.
This is current American Parenting at its finest. (Another post on that soon. If you can't tell, I've been getting some reading in these last couple of seeks. More to come.)
Bottom line: some of us survived finals and some of us failed. Epically.
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