Meet the Teacher!

Timken Roller Bearing Co., calendar, September...

Image by George Eastman House via Flickr

Meet the Teacher:
Aware of my plans to homeschool, some family and friends giggled, when I announced we had a “meet the teacher” day for the homeschool. It took a minute to understand why they found it amusing. I imagine now they pictured me lining up my children and ringing a bell.
“Class, the bell has rung, please go to the science lab.”
 “Where’s the science lab Momma?”
“Kitchen! Get to the kitchen before the late bell rings!”
 I sprint past them down the stairs, and jump into a lab coat. “Welcome to science, my name is…”
You get the picture.
I had forgotten to explain, my children were in school 2 days during the week.
Fast forward to the morning of the actual “meet the teacher”, I jumped out of bed at 6am, and weighed down the back end of my SUV with the entire book and supply list. My children looked spiffy in their new polyester uniforms (not a wrinkle in sight). I could hear the angels singing in the heavens over my dedication and attention to detail.
I pulled into the parking lot, somehow missing the lot closest to the school entrance. Probably, because I was beaming at my polished boys in the rear view mirror.
So, we had to hike. I removed the compass from my vest pocket. (just kidding here) We walked in the 100 degree temperatures across a parking lot, and down a lane. My kids looked like turtles carrying their loads on their backs, sweat rolling down their cheeks.
“Momma, we’re hot! This is heavy!” They complained.
Of course I tried to point out the positive. “Just think you’re muscles will be pumped when we get there,” I said, hair falling limp in my face, while man handling my rolling crate over the bumps and curbs.
By the time we arrived, the classes were all full. An elevator was just about to close.
‘“Hold the elevator!” I yelled. Trying to run in my heels, dragging my boys and cart.
We pushed our way in, squashing the occupants with our load. I sighed. I made it. The boys were irritable due to dehydration, and picked at each other. I squeezed between them, and pinched one of them, to prevent them from entertaining these nice people with their wrestling moves.
We spilled out onto our floor, with everyone else. I couldn’t help but notice, no one had books or supplies. I felt a little flush. It was then, my son Nicklaus nudged me.
“Mom, why don’t they have to wear a uniform?” he said pointing to the group of students.
The heavens closed up, and the angels were silenced.
Imagine my embarrassment all day lugging the books from class to class. All the while, mothers smiled, as I passed with my neon sign, “Over eager Newbie!” on my forehead.
Overall, it was a good day. For the first time in their school history, my boys earned the reputation of being the ‘goodie goods’, and I’m pleased. We’ll see how long that lasts.
When we left, we lugged our stuff back across the Sahara Desert. Several moms drove past and waved. I guess they didn’t see my thumb raised for a ride.
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