Kindergarten was all downhill
after the scissor incident. It seemed like every other week were getting notes
or phone calls. Never anything major. I adjusted to fact that this was not our
academic year to shine. Things could have been better but they definitely could
have been worse. The holidays came and then the winter. There were a lot of
breaks from school. I was sure after so much needed time off the rest of the
year would go smoothly and swiftly. For about a month there was a lull in the
phone calls. No notes. No awkward glares when I picked Aidan up. I felt like
maybe Aidan had found his groove. That feeling lasted all of a day maybe two
tops. I got a phone call from the school saying the teacher and the guidance
counselor would like to meet with me. Shit.
A date and time was set. I
got a sitter for Seark and went to school for the dreaded meeting. As usual
they start with good. This time instead of the anticipated “that being said” I
was handed a book of Aidan’s drawings. The guidance counselor and his teacher
watched me look through the book like detectives from CSI. All of his pictures
were well drawn. Colorful. Happy. I closed the book. Set it on the table. And
sat there wondering if I should ask for a lawyer. All I could think was what
the hell is going on? There was silence. Just the three of us exchanging
squinted stares like in an old western waiting for the first guy to draw. I
couldn’t take it anymore. WHAT?! The guidance counselor gently nudged the book
back across the table and said “look again Mrs. Winter”. Oh God what am I
missing I thought. Was there some bizarre underlying subtext I overlooked in
his drawings? I inspected each page. Colorful. Happy. Detailed. OK so what am I
missing? The guidance counselor says to
me did you not notice that everything has a mustache. “EVERYTHING. HAS. A. MUSTACHE.” The pumpkins he drew for Halloween.
The teddy bear. The sun. The flowers. Anything that had a face adorned a
mustache.
Honestly I had not noticed.
Aidan drew everything with a mustache. So much I didn’t even see them anymore.
Bewildered I say “I’m sorry,
what does that mean? Is that bad? Was he told not to?” She replied “no. not
bad. Just odd.” At this point I should have just walked out. Instead I went on
to explain well he loves Super Mario Brothers and they have mustaches. His dad
has a mustache and so does his uncle. He likes to draw them on his face when he
is pretending to be a cowboy or Luigi. I nervously rambled on all the reasons
he could be drawing mustaches when it dawned on me maybe they are the crazy
ones! I stopped dead in my tracks and asked if there was anything else. They
mentioned a few other things that weren’t worth mentioning and said that was
all they just wanted to bring it to my attention. I politely thanked them for
wasting my time and asked that next time they call me if they could make it
worth my trip to the school. Kindergarten definitely wasn’t our year.
Until Aidan started school I
was a happy stay at home mother with a happy boy. I always encouraged
creativity even if it meant that everything needed a mustache. Recently I read
a quote…
“School failed me, and I failed the school. It bored
me.
The teachers behaved like Feldwebel (sergeants). I
wanted to learn what I wanted to know,
But they wanted me to learn for the exam.
What I hated most was the competitive system there,
and especially sports.
Because of this I wasn’t worth anything, and several
times they suggested I leave.
This was a Catholic school in Munich.
I felt that my thirst for knowledge was being strangled
by my teacher; grades were there
Only measurement. How can a teacher understand youth
with such a system?
From the age of twelve I began to suspect authority
and distrust teachers”
-Albert Einstein
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