Page the Second


A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi. (In front of you, a precipice. Behind you, wolves.)

Friday, October 12, 2012


I am STEAMED! My son's school demands that they buy a gym suit from them, which is over-priced but necessary. This year B. took weigh-lifting, so I was alright with buying the thing, happy that my son would finally be getting some exercise. 

The other day he wanted to do something, so as per my usual method, I went to his online grade report to check whether he had all his assignments in. To my horror, he had an F in weight lifting. "How does one flunk weights?" I wondered. You go, you pick the things up, you put them back down. Voila! So I wrote to his teacher.

Turns out my boy didn't have the right color of t-shirt one day. That's all the explanation I got. I nearly swallowed my tonsils. Who flunks a kid because his t-shirt is black? So I told the guy his grading methods were draconian and to give B. some extra homework to pull his grade back up.

Then today hit. B. came home smelling like a wet dog. I said, "What happened to deodorant?" 
"Mine got stolen," he said. "The same time they stole my gym suit and the locked lock from the locker."

I boggled. "You got everything stolen? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I don't know. I forgot. That was the same day I got that F."
My eyebrows nearly climbed up off of my head. "Say what? You mean your gym clothes disappear out of your locked locker and you get an F because you aren't dressed out? Your teacher didn't even mention that when he was making excuses."

Did I say draconian? I meant something far beyond that. This calls for flaming bags of manure on his porch. And if I ever find the thief, more like a ton. Seriously! Who does that? What was the kid supposed to do? Dredge one up from thin air? Call the gym suit fairy? Even if he'd had a spare (which he doesn't since we aren't made of cash) that would have been ripped off as well. I am stinking sure that I'm never going to provide another juvenile delinquent with a gym suit again.

Now to remember to pick up a load of fresh muck the next time I take my other son to work (in a stable, luckily...:o).


  1. Have you since asked the teacher if he knew what had happened and if he was willing to cut your son a break because of it?

    If he doesn't, you ought to make sure he knows you're an author and will put him in one of your books and kill him off in a terrible, brutal, lingering death. ;)

  2. What a schmuck of a teacher! Ditto for the thief.