Maybe I’ve hit that point of moving and all that paperwork where I’ve gotten a bit punch-drunk with all the forms and formalities.
Because today, Collin hands me the syllabus for Algebra II, which is syllabus #927 that I’ve gotten from these kids of mine, where I’m supposed to read the teacher’s manifesto for the year, sign it to state I agree with it, answer questions, leave my bank account and social security number so I can help them transfer money from their account in Kenya – I really don’t know anymore. I’ve stopped reading them.
But they keep asking the same questions, and I get bored with the same answers.
Like “What languages are spoken in your home?”
I want to write “Irish – it’s like English, but with a lot more cursing.”
But I won’t.
“What is one strength your student has?” Sarcasm – but I’m not sure every teacher considers that a strength (some do…but they’re the ones who warned me that some don’t appreciate it. Seriously. I’ve had this conversation.)
“Do you prefer an interpreter/translator when I contact you?” Yes – good luck finding someone that speaks Irish.
“What is your goal for your student in this math class?” Um…to pass with a good grade? Really, isn’t that everyone’s goal? I don’t know much about math….
“Are there things I should know about your family that will help me be more sensitive to your student?” Seriously, two lines aren’t going to cut it…I should just refer her to this blog. But that might give her the wrong impression….hmmm…
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to find out if the boy’s calculator from Ireland will cut it, or if I have to plunk down $100 for some schmancy calculator with the correct types of buttons…
Please note – I may have answered these questions just like that out loud – and my son snickered. Because he’s my son. I did promise to play Good Mom when I answered the questions though – so no “his superpower is sarcasm” responses.)