Neither prince nor pal

Today I gave the principal a piece of my mind.

Me, quiet little Rachel who never once set foot in the principal's office in all my 12 years of primary schooling. Me, who has total (even if sometimes unjustified) respect for authority figures. Me, who prefers to write and rewrite and edit every piece of correspondence with the school rather than speak to the staff face to face because I know each "event" will eventually be tucked away in my son's personal file. Me, who has showed incredible restraint at every parent-teacher-principal meeting for the past 5 years at my son's elementary school. Today I pulled out all the stops.

Apparently my oldest son, who is in the final stretch of his sixth grade education with only a month to go before that elementary school becomes part of a past he wants to forget, got in a tiff this morning. By "tiff" I mean that he apparently teased one of his closest friends about his new braces, and the friend punched him in the face (no blood, no injury, just your standard 12-year old scruffle). Should I be more phased by this event? Maybe, but I'm not. Know why? Because exactly the same thing happened last week (for the first time), with a different kid.

But last week I didn't speak my mind to the principal - she called, told me what happened, and like a good girl I came to pick him up. Mind you, we have been under the wrath of this principal for the past 4 years, and she's had countless opportunities to get to know my son, his character, his imperfections and tendency to skew the truth (putting it mildly). And yet, without even bothering to sit down with the two young roosters, who are actually usually pretty good friends, to try and discuss what happened and how they could prevent such a thing from happening again, she felt she had done her job with a mere "nu nu nu" and basically "go home and let your parents deal with this."

I understand that they cannot accept violent behavior in school, and by sending the boys home she was trying to send a message to them and to others. What she doesn't seem to understand is that, at least for my son, going home is a prize, not a punishment. In the end it is me (and my salary) who suffers because I have to leave work to go home and play policewoman. We had a long discussion with him at home about the whole incident, and he did get "restrictions" to his regular schedule. But not another word was spoken about it at school the next day. There are so many other effective and much more creative ways the principal could have chosen to deal with it, but that would require some effort and flexibility on her part, heaven forbid.

So this morning, just when I had pulled into the parking lot at work, I got the call. By the number on the screen, I shouldn't have answered. I know better. "Hello, this is the grumpy old troll...uh, principal. You need to come pick up your son, he was in a fight." Not again, I thought. I muted the Brad Paisley disc I had been enjoying until that moment, closed the car windows, and fired up the air con. And then it started. Maybe it was PMS, maybe it was a lack of sleep, maybe it was the rising summer temperatures this morning that got me all heated up, or maybe I've just had enough.

I basically told her what I thought of her all these years (I won't go into detail here, but it was ugly), and how we are counting the days until my son is out of that school. I politely explained to her that I had no intention of coming to pick him up today, and that I believed she was capable of mediating between them to reach apologies and understanding of what they had done (what is a principal for, anyways?). She responded (quite loudly), and suggested that she and I schedule a meeting over a cup of coffee to talk, because she felt that I had a lot of "baggage" about our experiences with the school that she would be interested in hearing. Yeah, right lady.

Funny thing is, when I got home today and sat down to talk to my son, the first thing he said was "Thank you for fighting for me." I almost cried (again, probably PMS), and realized that I should have told the principal where to stick it long ago.

A cookie monster by any other name

The Jewish holiday of Purim is quickly approaching, and with it a flurry of baking, wrapping and delivering "mishlochay manot" to neighbors and friends. Each night this week I'm whipping up a different batch of cookies (and immediately freezing them to keep fresh) - then on Friday, the actual holiday, me and my costumed gang will deliver about 20 festively wrapped plates filled with a variety of yummy cookies to the great delight of everyone who's on the list.

(Don't tell anyone, but I have this fantasy that everyone on our street compares with each other, and secretly all hope to be added to my "baking list". I don't think I need to worry about any of them reading my blog, so we're safe) (oh, and don't tell my husband that these are my fantasies...)

Anyway - this year as I bake and wonder if I will continue this massive cookie tradition next year (last year I swore I wouldn't do it again) - I was thinking, if I only put this much effort into coming up with positive ways of helping my sons with homework, with housework, or with anything I ask them to do that immediately elicits an instinctive "NO". It seems that maybe I am directing my energies into things that are "nice to have" (like COOKIES) instead of really focusing on the issues that need attention. Cookies are always a success, relatively easy to prepare - there's a recipe, I follow it, cookies come out good, neighbors smile and thank me - it's a very positive experience.

On the other hand, when I remind my sons to do their homework, I am immediately met with resistance and crumblings of unfulfilled promises ("I'll do it later..."), which leads me to become a terrible nudge - reminding and demanding over and over again that they stop whatever it is they're doing and DO HOMEWORK. Which brings even more opposition, yelling and resentment - ultimately and almost daily a very negative experience.

Why can't my children be more like cookies? No, the question is, why can't the way I deal with my children be more like making cookies? I need to find the right recipe - a neutral, floury base (the initial approach), sweetened as necessary (maybe with a snack or some good quality time), and just the right amount of "baking powder" (or the equivalent amount of creativity) added to get things to rise...then once it's baking (the actual sit-down and do homework process), it's only a matter of time until we can all enjoy, and gain from, the tasty results. (Although I suppose I should expect to burn a few batches in the process)

And, as my youngest son's favorite song goes: "C is for Cookie, it's good enough for me" - but now that I think about it, I need to strive for much more than "good enough", I need to go for the whole bakery....

How do you To Do?

This will be short and sweet. I debated whether to post this, but figured if it's already out there, what the hay.

There is a blog called ToDoList which I recently found, which shows hand-written lists from all kinds of people on wildly varying topics. It's a great site for inspiration and insight...especially since I just recently realized that in order to get my life at least somewhat organized, I need to write things down to make them more concrete (and so I won't forget...). So I've got running lists going on groceries, errands, work projects, kids homework, doctors appointments, and much more. And I pity the poor fool who mistakes one of my little crumpled lists for a piece of trash to throw away...

Anyway, since the ToDoList blog invites people to send in their own lists, I decided that one of mine in particular was indeed worth sharing (here's the link to my list, but wait until after you've finished reading this post to go there...)

The list I sent includes my aspirations for improving my parenting skills (written way before I discovered the list blog). I am constantly trying to remind myself that I need to listen more, dictate less...and everything that goes along with that. It's funny that so many of the things on the list should come naturally, but they don't. In fact, I don't even manage some of them most of the time. I wrote this list (after thinking about it for a long time) while sitting in my car waiting for my oldest son as he did his 2 hour gifted evaluation (mentioned in an earlier post).

I try to read the list at least once a day, to really internalize it. I've even considered making each item into a little sign and posting them around my house...haven't done that yet.

Now you can go ahead and click on the link...see what you think, and add your own suggestions!

Ahh yes, and as Fats Waller so soothingly tells us, "I"m gonna sit right down and write myself a letter...."