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Monday, September 12, 2011

Don't expect to see me at the school assembly

In my day – oh so recently – we had a school assembly once a term, barring any special events or circumstances (like the time I created enough fake medical situations to avoid participating in school sporting events, to warrant the introduction of the town ambulance at all school sporting events).

Miss5’s school has an assembly every fortnight.  Seriously, what can they possibly have to say that warrants such fanfare every two weeks?

I’m asking, because I don’t go.

It's too early in the morning for me to retain any sort of information, let alone school stuff.  Also, Miss5's class only attends in preparation for joining the "big kids" next year.

#1 Hubby helfpully filed all school paperwork in the bin while I was in Vietnam.  As a result, we were the crap parents who went into panic mode when we found out that the Early Childhood classes were hosting the following day's assembly.

Cue frenzied search for a butterfly outfit of specific colouring for the opening act.

Said opening act, while cute, was excessively long.  It went on and on and on, to ensure each kid had a chance to rotate around to the front position for their 5 seconds of glory.

I happen to know for a fact, that a number of parents would've signed waivers agreeing to our kids standing in the back, foregoing the seemingly endless performance rotation to the front.

This was followed by each child taking turns talking about butterflies and flowers, in between regular assembly items like fundraising, book week, and I'd be lying if I listed anything else, because I tuned out half way through the epic opening number.

It was excruciating.

For TWO FREAKING HOURS we smiled and clapped our way through every other child's moment at the microphone.

The  natives  twins were getting restless by this point.  They were beyond any distraction, and making enough noise to drown out whichever 5yr old was standing over a foot away from the microphone.

So we lined up a parent who didn’t have two bored and pissy toddlers in attendance, to fill us in on Miss5's eventual role, after school.  That way we could  flee  leave quietly and later claim to have seen her show-stopping performance, while heaping praise on her and dispensing ice cream so as to distract her from probing us for further details and performance critique that may lead to the exposure of our lie.

I think she sensed our imminent  escape  departure, as she kept looking at us and waving.

Finally, when every single other child had their time at the microphone bar Miss5 and one other – she stepped up.

She shot us a mega wattage smile and a wave (which totally melted me and had me in tears before she'd even said anything).

And then she spoke :

Oh...I forget.”  She shrugged her shoulders and got down from the podium.

Her teacher walked over and whispered something to her.  She got back up on the podium.

Oh yeah.  Can Mr Such-and-such please come and lead the school creed”.

WTF?

I waited over 2 hours for that?

No informative speech on the intricacies of the butterfly.  No jazz hands.

And that is why I am not attending another school assembly until she graduates.

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2 comments:

  1. I think I might just copy that letter and use it myself. We have fricken assembly every fricken friday! I happened to be picking the Darlings up today when i was asked, "you are coming to assembly on friday, aren't you?" Apparently it's dinosaurs not butterflies for us. I couldn't think of an excuse as I was stuck trying to figure out just how bad of a parent this teacher was thinking I am. Perhaps if I take a flask with me and make loud belching noises they won't want me there again!

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  2. Guess who just read your post in a reader???? Huzzah for working RSS feeds :-)

    ReplyDelete

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