The School Post

The following text contains seriously strong views on parenting which some readers may find offensive. Reader discretion is advised.


Having held parental status for almost sixteen years now, (insert sound of astonishment and awe at how fresh and youthful I look) I have had my share of opportunities to observe some rather remarkable changes in how we are treating our ‘Leaders of Tomorrow’ and quite frankly, I have some concerns.

Unless you are living in Communist China, (in which case I am pretty sure you won’t have access to this blog anyways and if you could get access to the WWW, I would understand fully if my Blog weren’t the first thing you Googled and bookmarked) you may have noticed that is was back to school time a few weeks ago.

Here is a sampling of some of the correspondence over the years between myself and the kids’ teachers:

“Simon needs large Zip lock bags for his letters from the Teacher. The ones he has are traditional seal. Please send secure-lock bags instead”

Dear Simon’s Teacher: Were you planning to send home killer bees? Molten lava? What bloody difference will it make what kind of Ziplock bag he has? Update from the Kathryn files; I never see any of those letters until at least four days past the due date anyways so save yourself the trouble, save me the $4.45 and in case you missed that Oprah episode, save the Albatross.

“Simon’s gym shoes have laces. Waiting for Simon to lace up his shoes is holding up the class. Please send velcro shoes”

Does Simon’s writing and reading also hold up the class? Here’s a thought, teach Simon to lace up his shoes. Teach all of those corner-cutters in the class to lace their shoes. Am I the only person who has nightmares about our soldiers being killed on the battlefields because they couldn’t lace up their boots before the enemy advanced? Or the next Madame Curie tripping over her laces and thus spilling the cure for cancer down the drain all because up until that day in the lab she always wore velcro?

“Elizabeth is very independent and doesn’t always want to play with the other children”

Um, yes. Have you seen the other children? At least three of them have peed their pants, they all have crusted-over nostrils (most sad are the five year-old girls in HIGH HEELS) and not one of them even knows who Barack Obama is, much less can point out his home-state on a map. Try not to think of her an independent. Try to think of the other children as morons. It’s what I do.

Grade one math test:

Question: 3 + 4 =

Answer: Г (backwards 7)

Teacher marks it as incorrect.

Grrrr.

“Your child’s grade four teacher has a banana allergy. Please refrain from sending bananas or banana-based products in your child’s lunch”

Dear Teacher: Keep your chalky fingers off my kids’ lunch and there shouldn’t be any problems. You’re a grown-up, he’s nine and quite frankly after eliminating peanuts, nuts, anything in a wrapper and glass bottles I am fresh out of ideas.

“Simon needs duotangs in the following colors: sky-blue, navy blue, light blue, cyan, black, grey, orange, yellow, canary, goldenrod, white, beige, red, purple, violet, green, hunter green and chartreuse”.

Simon has a mother and father who have far better things to do than hunt high and low looking for leprechaun duotangs. Please find enclosed 18 white duotangs and a sharpie.

Many of my friends and family are educators. I want to finish this blog by emphasising that I have absolutely no ill-feelings for teachers whatsoever. I whole-heartily admire the work they do and am the first person to stand up and admit I could never possess the patience and will it must take to shape the young minds of tomorrow. The instances sighted above are merely excerpts from our experiences with an over-stretched school board trying to simplify their life while overly complicating the parents’ and, I believe, depriving the children of some of their learning experiences.

The Summer in a Nutshell Post

Holy Mother it has been a long time since I’ve been here…what the heck is going on? Oh, right… a nervous breakdown, three kids, the last of which started school last week, a new job, a new house, two weddings and another on the way, ten pounds and another bloody stinking ankle sprain. Where to begin…


Well, yes, I went off to the Olympic Winter Games in Vancouver. I never wrote about it, blogged about it or even spoke about it much to almost anyone so don’t feel as though you’re in the dark. For seven weeks I lived in the Olympic Village, ate lunch with Syd the Kid, consumed a LOT of McCafé and missed the entire last season of Lost. Enuf said.


The kids are great; Nicholas has his first real job, (by real, I mean not working for his dad) at Kunstadt Sports. He loves it and although I have not been in to spy on him, is I am sure a natural. He has always been very at ease around people and is a master at shooting the daily crap, so no doubt will be Manager by Christmas. Simon played soccer all summer, worked for his dad and surprisingly avoided injury, which for him is a major accomplishment. Elizabeth was lured by the siren song of the Eastern Townships pony and is now in regular lessons. Oddly, she seems to have no trouble communicating to the horse that she is in charge.

Started a new job in August; I am the Facilities and Operations Technologist for the Canadian Museum of Civilisation as well as the Canadian War Museum. Ahh…the great Canadian dream to move to Ottawa, ice-skate to your government job and live no more than six feet from a Tim Hortons…Yup, I have sold out. What can I say…the pension rocks, the benefits are great and from my office I have the single best view in the City. Suck on that Syd. Seriously though, the job is going well enough…The people are nice, all the work is in French and most importantly people seem to dress well; It’s amazing how just being ‘on the other side’ makes such a difference.


Yes, another house. Pics and updates on that one to follow. It’s a lot of work, but stunning underneath it all. Kinda like me


As mentioned, we have attended two weddings this summer; they were both equally beautiful and touching and as such deserve their own post, along with one for the final wedding of 2010 in October. Stay tuned.

Ten pounds and another bloody ankle sprain. Blerg. Piece of advice from me to you; don’t wear your work heels for the riding part of your commute. There is a reason that you often see people wearing runners or flats on their bikes. That reason is ankle sprains. As such, running has taken a major backseat. In the front seat? Cheese.