Today was the big kid's last day of speech class! I was so happy I even considered having some champagne tonight, because speech class has been a major pain in my ass. However, the big kid loves his teacher and his class of two (siblings in fact, we'll call them Tweedledum and Tweedledummer) and was a little sad about his last day of "school".
You see, he doesn't realize that his teacher seems unqualified and that it is a complete waste of two days a week. Sure it is only a 30 minute class (which the teacher is always at least 10 minutes late for and doesn't make up the time at the end), but when you factor in the showering/dressing/driving time and the fact that we can't go do much on those two days because we're waiting around to do our stupid ass 15 minutes of playing mindless games, it pretty much affects the whole week.
Half of the problem is that his teacher, we'll call her Mrs. Schneider, is clueless and I think the other half of the problem is the Tweedledum/Tweedledummer combo. Their problem is totally different from his. Not to mention Tweedledummer is a real pain in the ass to deal with and Tweedledum never stops talking. It goes something like this:
Tweedledum: Shoe papa shows shoe sha born deer da orseys wib in hee gibs em shorn.
Mrs. Schneider: I don't understand, give me more clues so I know what you're saying.
Tweedledum: Ee orseys, ee wike teat shorn in sharrots. I wike orseys in I wide em and I bwush um and dey go awound all da day wike at.
Mrs. Schneider: Nodding, looking at clock
Tweedledum: Fumtimes bubba ties ew oh but he nawowed but fumtimes I do too.
Mrs. Schneider: Tweedledum, I told you to stay on topic.
(During the course of this conversation Tweedledummer has gotten under the table, taken his shoes off and made lion noises)
First of all, Mrs. Schneider doesn't know that she's gotten off topic because she never has any idea what she's saying to begin with. I am often the interpreter (She was talking about horses in this case). She also never has her slow down, take a breath, E-NUN-CIATE. She makes no effort to get her to speak correctly. Tweedledummer is two years younger and fairly new to the program. It shows. I won't even get into that mess. They're nice kids and all, but they take up a lot of time. Actually, Tweedledum isn't that nice. She's always trying to be first in line, she's a tamborine snatcher, and she's snubbed the big kid a few times when he's tried to make small talk. Sometimes I wish they'd never been born. I'm KIDDING! I said that to shock you, but I do wish they'd been born in another school district.
So during all of this, the little kid is looking around, smiling at me, smelling his fingers, watching Tweedledummer under the table, etc. The big kid has a few minor pronunciation issues, like Fs, Ps, Rs and Ls but his real problem is that he inserts a lot of mumbling into sentences so conversations go like this:
Him: Mommy, Mickey and Minnie and Pluto and Donald went to the castle and eyeheheyeheheyeyeheheheyeyeheyeshimishooshooshesheshooChipandDaleeyeyehehdeheyeyeheheAteLunch.
Me: Hmmmm, that's interesting.
I'm not sure what to do about it, other than get him to slow down and use some more words but I thought Mrs. Schneider would know, it being her job and all. Anytime I ask her a question she stares at me like a deer in the headlights, as if I have caught her red handed impersonating a speech teacher and I get some weird, non-useful answer. All they ever do is flash card games (and she doesn't correct the kids if they totally screw the word up) and work on the concept of "under" and "on". Seriously, how many times can you go over the concept of "under" and "on"? I don't know if my child is exceptionally advanced, but he didn't need 7 classes devoted to it.
Anyway, my point is (this is getting way too long)that I showered and dressed and drove all the way there, sat in the lobby and waited for her as usual and in walks Tweedledum and Tweedledummer with an end of the year gift!! Oh great, make me feel like a real jerk. I even thought the big kid should make her a card but thoughts don't often get me far. So I sat there and felt really bad...for 20 minutes...until I realized that she wasn't coming and the big kid wasn't getting his much anticipated last day of school and we had missed a pool party with the cool moms in my playgroup for this bullshit. Holy hell was I pissed. He kept saying "this is a real bummer", "but what about how will I say goodbye to Mrs. Schneider, my teacher for my class?", "but what about my sticker for being a good boy?". He sadly said goodbye to Tweedledum and Tweedledummer and has talked for the rest of the day how today wasn't a fun day and it was a real bummer.
I am P-I-S-S-E-D. You don't fuck with my big kid. You don't fuck with my pool parties and potential opportunities to drink iced tea and gossip with other mothers while our children entertain themselves. She will pay, my friends. Mrs. Schneider is going DOWN.
I was going to stay today and talk to the principal but he was locked in his office with the cops and a half naked kid. I guess some 3 year old in her underwear drove her bike up to the school by herself from a neighboring subdivision and apparently that's a bigger problem than making Mrs. Ashley shower and dress for no good reason. I don't agree, I don't agree one bit. The big kid having a bummer of a day is a very, very big deal.