Skipper Learns A Lesson

We had our next-to-next-to-last faculty meeting today. It's always the first Monday of the month. Seven down, two to go! The school year is creeping its way toward the end. It shuffles along in stretched-out slippers, its toes hanging over the front sole, scuffing its way to graduation like an old lady in assisted living stumping next door, the tennis-ball-covered feet of her walker whispering along the dull, stained linoleum, on a relentless mission to scam some horehound candy from the Alzheimer's patient next door.

The perception of time should now allow for the old adage: The School Year Is Almost Over, You Know! With testing and banquets and deadlines approaching, time will shed its dog days of winter training wheels, pump up its tires, taxi out onto the runway, whistle for Orville and Wilbur, and take off into the sunset of the 2008-2009 school year.

But today, this instant, we're still rooted to the ol' terra firma. An in this reality, Mrs. HM is grounded. She has a bone to pick with her #1 son. The son who was sick last week, but went to school, and was allowed to skip one academic team practice and one math contest practice. He was truly sick, and crawled into his Mansion bed and slept upon arriving home, requiring an awakening for sustenance when the evening meal was served.

However...he did not work on his math packet over the weekend as he promised. He stated this morning that there was no academic practice after school, and was told to check and make sure, and call Mrs. HM if he needed to stay. During 6th hour, Mrs. HM called Basementia to check with the academic coach on the time of the conference tournament on Thursday. Our team has lost only one game, and is anticipating the second seed in the tournament. It was during this conversation that Mrs. HM found out that there was academic practice today from 3:00 to 5:00. She informed the coach that #1 had not called, but that he needn't panic after school, as now Mrs. HM knew about the practice, and would come pick him up at 5:00 after her next-to-next-to-last faculty meeting.

Upon arrival back in her room at 3:45 after the meeting, planning to get some work done over the next hour, Mrs. HM was informed by The Pony that #1 was in the computer lab with his buddy. Mrs. HM was not pleased, and if, perhaps, the word 'ballistic' flits through your mind at this time, rest assured that it is fitting. Mrs. HM called #1 and commanded him to report for sentencing.

#1 must have rehearsed his story en route up the long, long hallway. He said that he didn't KNOW there was practice, since nobody told him, except for the Lefthand Man on academic team just one minute before the bell. Never mind that Basementia has phones that (gasp!) can communicate with Newmentia. Never mind that #1 was specifically told this morning to check and see if there was practice.

Mrs. HM told #1 to gather his stuff--she was driving him back to Basementia for the last hour of practice. #1 was having none of that, declaring that practice was stupid, and that HE didn't need to practice anyway, since they were just two-year-old questions that would not be asked at the tournament. Mrs. HM promised to call the academic coach and explain that #1 would not be allowed to go to the tournament on Thursday, since he had intentionally skipped practice. #1 did not think that promise would be kept, but was more unsure of the follow-through on the second promise to require him to sit in the (GASP!) living room all evening instead of in his room with all its electronic glory. He gathered his things and away we flew to Basementia.

#1 pretended not to follow the line of reasoning about the star of the basketball team not skipping practice even though he was the best, or the question about whether Mrs. HM could simply skip the next faculty meeting, since she knows everything anyway.

Life is OH SO FULL of teachable moments.