We had Back to School night last night and I ended up leaving totally stressed out. Stressed out about third grade. And rumors that it will require making a model of the Solar System. I am from a generation that was led to believe that Pluto was a planet. In fact I’m still not sure that it’s not. Who decides what constitutes a planet and why do they get to just revoke that status all willy-nilly? Because they have “Doctor” in front of their name? I once watched a doctor dump an entire side salad from Olive Garden into his lasagna and eat it all mixed together in a large bowl. Doctors don’t know everything.
And how am I supposed to help Caroline memorize the order of the planets if I don’t use “My Very Excellent Mother Just Ordered Us Nine Pizzas”? It doesn’t make any sense if you leave off the pizzas. The whole thing makes my head hurt. I can already tell I’m going to lose sleep over how to make the rings on Saturn really POP.
We also heard more about the STARR test which is the new standardized test for Texas schools this year. Apparently it’s supposed to be more difficult than the TAAS or the TAKS or the entrance exam for admission to Harvard. Caroline’s teacher showed us a sample question and it contained the words “quadratic equation”. I almost blacked out from the horrific flashbacks to Algebra and was prepared to just take Caroline out of school right now and teach her a useful trade before her teacher clarified this was a question from the version of the test taken by seniors in high school.
Clearly we’re going to have to get her a tutor at some point. A tutor with math skills not limited to balancing a checkbook. A tutor who doesn’t have to measure out 3/4 of a cup of flour twice when doubling a recipe because she can’t remember how to add fractions. Not that I know anyone who has to do that. It’s purely hypothetical.
In other developments that have little to nothing to do with my child’s education, P got out of bed late last night because sometimes when a person eats half a bag of M&Ms they get acid reflux. (Now there is some free science for you.) While he was popping Tums and taking Zantac, he looked out the back window and discovered a very large possum dining on our dogs’ food. This serves as confirmation that I have no business ever going in our backyard after midnight. Nothing good can come of it. Unless you believe a possum-induced heart attack is a positive thing.
It seems like there should be more to the possum story doesn’t it? There’s not. Sorry. It’s just something I wanted to share. So that someday I can look back and wonder when it was that a possum was eating our dogs’ food and know that it was September 6, 2011. Precious memories.
Finally, as if this isn’t all exciting enough, I’m getting my hair cut later today. I realize this may not mean much to, well, all of you, but I haven’t had it cut since April. It’s shameful. I’m a cross between Morticia Addams and Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman.
I really didn’t mean to go this long between haircuts but the summer just flew by and I spent the majority of it with my hair piled under a baseball cap at the pool or bobby-pinned back in some sort of haphazard bun configuration. So now my bangs have completely grown out and I have to make the agonizing decision that rules my life; Bangs or no bangs? Side swept long bangs? Straight across bangs?
It’s almost as important as whether or not Pluto is a planet.