'Had a Bad Day'

Have you ever had one of those days?  Wrong side of the bed and all of that twattle.  The other day, my third grader came home bummed out.  She announced as she got in the car at the bus stop  "I had a bad day".  When I asked her about it,  she related to me how the little girl who has dogged her throughout the year, had been picking on her again.  Unfortunately,  my daughter does not have the temperament to put up with this, and usually gets in trouble for the comeback to the insults that are usually whispered to her, while the little instigator, who has the appearance of an angel, gets off scotch free.  She is the 'nice girl, my daughter is a very exuberant  girl who is not known for her mild temperament. Anyway, to make a long story less long,  short of getting into fisticuffs and taking this girl out, my daughter just has to put up with it. 

On this particular day, it had been especially bad.  I took her home and doted on her, gave her hugs, cookies and the usual mom stuff.  I then settled her down and played the bad day song for her.  You know the one by "Bad Day" by Dan Powter, that says " you had a bad day your taking one down , you sing a sad song just to turn it around..." She stood there leaning against me until the song was over, dried her eyes, said thanks and was off. 

Fast forward until this morning.  My husband and I were preparing ourselves to go to my eighteen year olds seminary graduation this evening.  I got a phone call from a woman who was in charge of the musical production that by boys are involved in this summer.  There was going to be a practice this evening.  I informed her that they would not be able to participate because of seminary graduation.  This is when I got the horrifying news that seminary graduation was actually last night.  We had missed it.  I was devastated, how could we have done something so stupid.  Tears ensued.  I was in my room crying and feeling terrible about the whole situation when I heard from my third graders room the high peals of the Chipmunks singing  "You had a bad day your taking one down, you sing a sad song just to turn it around"...  My sweet little girl was playing the bad day song for me.  I turned and saw her slipping into my room to check on me.  With a big hug and a few kisses, by daughter had put a smile back on my face. 

My sons situation turned out less than terrible also.  The wonderful counselor who had the night before, driven all the way to Gillette to present him with his diploma, handed it to him in sacrament meeting in front of the whole ward.  Just another tender mercy.  My bad day, turned out not so bad after all. 

Burned Out!

So when is enough, enough.  How much is good, well, I say school wise we hit that mark about eight days ago.  I remember when I was a kid the last few weeks of school were pretty much throw away's.  These days were packed with field trips, May Day activities and pretty much parties.  They probably had the highest attendance during the last few weeks of school than the rest of the year.  Who wants to miss the fun.  I think they knew we were wasted, the staff was wasted too, both literally and figuratively. 

My how times have changed.  Suddenly everyone is in crisis.  Our kids are failing and falling further and further behind.  According to whom, I don't know.  I do know that the math they are cramming down kids throats in sixth grade, I didn't hit until high school.  Come on! this is the information age!  Schools are no longer allowed to waste the last few weeks of school.  Every second is planned and significant.  No Second Left Behind.  Parties,  phew!  None of that.  No longer is it fun to be in school the last week of the year, it is not even fun to be in a school for any reason at this time of year.  I have spent the better part of the last six weeks testing junior high kids brains out.  If there is any information left in there, we will soon have it sucked out.  What a drag.  Thank goodness I was educated when the value of a completely useless, no point, wasted day was acceptable.  Not just acceptable,  Expected!  Hang in there kids,  eleven days to go.

Dodge ball!!

You haven't truly lived until you have experienced the sheer chaos and animal abandon that goes on during a game of sixth grade dodge ball.  I am sure you have all played dodge ball before.  You remember it, where there was a hard red rubber ball and the huge boys in the school would troll along line dividing the gym floor, and the teams in two.  They were waiting for a chance to nail you with that stinking ball with all the force they could muster.  I can still remember what it felt like to be hit by that red ball.  I remember the sound as it smacked against my bare skin with the force of a Mack truck.  I remember the checkerboard welt that it left.  Talk about PTSD!

Dodge ball now, is nothing like that.  They have gotten rid of the hard red rubber ball.  They now use purple foam balls.  Great! you may say, they have come to their senses.  Well, they don't just use one ball anymore,  they use thirty.  This new dodge ball cannot be effectively played with any less than forty students.  Forty students and thirty purple balls.  The rules are, if you are hit, you are out, unless you catch it.  Another change is, you are allowed to go to the 'yellow' line.  This line extends about ten feet in the opposing teams territory.  As the students get out, they line up on either side of the teacher until someone makes a basket on the opposing side, then their team all returns to the floor.  If the teacher yells jail break, they all go in. 

It is sheer chaos.  Purple missiles fly back and forth across the room, looking like a purple sideways snow storm, or hail storm would be more like it. The noise level is deafening.  This is actually an advantage though, because it drowns out the voices of the three or four students who are inevitably standing around the teacher,  plying for a Solomon decision about a horrible injustice that has just happened to them and they are 'not really out'.  I just shake by head cup my ear, and mouth  "I can't hear you".  With a sad shrug, I then yell..."Jailbreak".  Problem solved.

After a long day of watching dangerous, deafening, chaotic 6th grade dodge ball, I have come to one conclusion, I am getting old.