Well it wasn’t easy, but my son and I put in our overtime last week and wrapped up our course on the Roman Empire.
In honor of this, I shall commemorate the moment with the Latin phrase, “Felicitas est parvus canis calidus.”
(That means “Happiness is a warm puppy,” at least according to Charles Schultz.)
My son is less than thrilled with this, but in fairness, I feel the same way. Hopefully the new tools and approach we’re trying this year will sway us, but it’s too early to tell.
Wish us luck.
“Today I gave one of my thorough answers in class,” my son announced.
Resisting the urge to shake my head, I simply replied, “I’m sure you did.”
“I covered all the bases . . . from A to Z.”
Now I couldn’t resist. “Seeing as there are usually only four bases, that sounds about right for one of your answers.”
Today my son had a substitute teacher in his virtual class, and early on she had struggled with pronouncing his name to his kid satisfaction, so the second time she called on him she laughingly told him she was just going to call him “Mister Alan”.
Without missing a beat, my son grinned and retorted, “That’s just ‘Mister’ to you!”
Fortunately, his teacher thought it was funny, and when I (instantly) confronted him over it, his reasoning was, essentially, “She set me up for it. I pretty much had to!”
I’ve decided. If my son’s school is going to keep asking him his opinion on what he thought of class that day, they deserve his unfiltered opinion.
Even though actual classes don’t start for us until tomorrow, you can feel the cloud over this house today.
I don’t mind that my son doesn’t love school; I didn’t exactly love it myself at his age. Heck, for that matter I don’t exactly love it now, and I have direct experience to support my belief in the value of a good education!
Well . . . we made it. There was never any real doubt that we would, but it’s been a long year, and yesterday I was feeling every last second of it.
Still . . . any year you can walk away from is a good one, and all that.
School’s out for summer.
Today begins the second half of my son’s school year. Today’s lesson: Time spent figuring a problem out gives full credit, time spent fussing about the problem gives none.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of school, I will fear no fussing . . .
