I just got home from a torturous Parent-Teacher Conference.
What should have taken 20 minutes lasted over an hour and half.
So... you want an update of how things are going with Griffin and our school district?
They can suck my dick. That's how it's going.
Griffin's "permanent" Kindergarten teacher says she likes him. And that's where the compliments began and ended.
It seems that everyfuckingthing is a problem. He doesn't have good fine motor skills. Doesn't sit in his chair. Tattle-tales. Holds his pencil improperly. Basically, he's such a fucking failure, he might as well drop out of school now and I should set him up with his own apartment in the basement and hand him a pile of pot.
Because, you know, he's a total fuck-up.
Not to live in a make-believe world or anything, but isn't the point of Kindergarten to teach kids the basics like standing in line and getting use to social structure and, oh, I don't know, maybe have some fucking fun?
Not throw a damn hissy fit because he's not reading, not have your eyes roll into the back of your head when he can't cut with scissors perfectly smoothly?
Oh -- and my absolute favorite part: bitch, bitch, bitch about his behaviors and then have the audacity to tell me my child does not have Sensory Integration Disorder.
Hey, you dumbfuck -- all that shit you just described? SENSORY INTEGRATION DISORDER.
Because, yeah, sure. I'm gonna believe a Kindergarten teacher who's known my son for less than three weeks instead of the Occupational Therapists I've been taking him to for over two years.
Yeah, lady. You're totally right.
So basically, it was a really shitty hour and a half. Really shitty.
But we left with what should be an understanding that she needs to keep me informed and in return I'll work with Griffin on the eight pounds of paper I carried home.
Don't get me wrong -- I have a large respect for school. I love school, if someone ever wanted to finance me and let me learn forever I would.
But in that same respect, school needs to have respect for its students and not have a heart attack when a five year old doesn't make his art like the sample.
It's fucking art for crying outloud. Art.
And some children progress in different areas at a different rate. Don't put me down because my five year old can tell you the difference between botany and physics even though he can't sound out words yet.
We're raising children, not fucking robots.