Because sometimes, your kid needs a rescue mission...

Can I just... vent my spleen here? I mean, seriously, the people at the middle school... the stupid, oh, my gods, the stupid...

That steady thumping you hear? It's me, banging my head over and over again into the desk.

You know, seriously, I really thought it was Mrs. Sees-Plots-Everywhere, but apparently, getting assigned to the middle school causes some sort of... brain damage. Or maybe Sees-Plots-Everywhere cursed the school, sort of like how Voldemort cursed the DADA position at Hogwarts. I dunno, but the last two weeks have been... horrible, and today was just the capper.

*head-desk*

Okay, so... last Monday... no wait, let me start over. It all started with a phone call. The Impossible Son had been playing a "game,", one of those stupid games 6th grade kids play that are so stupid and you think, "Surely my child is too smart to play that sort of stupid game," But, my son isn't immune from Stupidity, so... he took a pencil, turned it over and rubbed the eraser into his skin until... he literally rubbed a hole into his skin. Not only that... he did it three more times! All on the back of his hand!!

The principal of the school, who was the Impertinent Daughter's vice principal last year and thus knows me, called me to tell me that Mr. Impossible wasn't in trouble, but if it happened again, it would be an automatic suspension. Okay, fine. I can handle that. And the Husbandly One and I had the "any game that involve bodily injury, or harm, to yourself or others, is a game you are not going to play because it is stupid and people who encourage you to play these games are not your friends, they are stupid people you do not need to be around" talk with him. And that was that.

I thought.

I had been told to keep the eraser burns on his hand covered until they were healed, so I went and bought some vet wrap at the local feed store because, let me tell you something: Band-Aids aren't going to stay stuck to my kid's skin. His papa is the same way, I don't know if it's skin oils or what. The only band-aids that have any hope of staying on his skin more than ten minutes at a pop (and that's a generous estimate) are the waterproof kind made by 3M. So vet-wrap and gauze it was.

So, by the following Monday, I was almost out of vet wrap and didn't have enough to wrap between his thumb and forefinger to make sure the dang thing would stay put. Needless to say, it slid off by first period.

His first period teacher, a language arts teacher I will most generously call "Mrs. Picky" instead of what I want to call her (which is Mrs. Bitch), sent him to the nurse, who threw something together with band-aids and... get this... scotch tape. Yes, you read that right, scotch tape, the tape you use on wrapping paper when wrapping a present. Yes. That lasted... not at all. And when he got into band and started playing his trombone, it became painful, so he pulled it off. In the meantime, he had a friction burn from gym on his forearm so that had a band-aid, too, that Mrs. B... Picky put on his arm. That was stayed in place, until it fell off, unnoticed.

About this time, Mrs. Picky shows up to pull my son out of band class. Apparently, this is something she's been doing quite frequently, and no one has been informing me of this. Nor have I authorized her to pull Mr. Impossible out of classes. Period.

So, Mrs. Picky pulls him, notices the missing bandage and immediately decides to write him up and haul him to the office, where he is put in In School Suspension. Which basically means he's suspended and can't attend classes, but... within the school instead of sending him home. Talking to the 6th grade Assistant Principal (hereforth to be called the AP), it sounds like he was put in I.S.S. to separate him from Mrs. Picky.

Riiiiight.

So, the Impossible Son is very upset when I pick him up and informs me of what happened, and that he will be serving in I.S.S. the next day as well. When I asked why, it turned out he had participated in another Stupid Game, this one called Nut Check Thursday This game involves going up to other boys and striking them lightly in the crotch with a hand and saying, "NUT CHECK THURSDAY!!" Except it was Friday.

Shoot me now. My son has testosterone poisoning.

He was caught, and assigned I.S.S. for the following Tuesday. And that one, I will freely admit, was wholly deserved. Because stupidity fully deserves punishment, right?

Now, while he was in I.S.S., his teachers were supposed to send his work to the I.S.S. room so he didn't fall behind. And they mostly did... except Mrs. Picky. And she waited until FRIDAY to decide he hadn't done his work, and she pulled him from P.E. and sent him to the library... not to work on the written part of his assignment, but to color a picture.

Yes. This woman pulled my son from his physical education class to have him color a picture. I am not kidding. I wish I were. Really.

And the only reason I found out about this was because my son lost a baby tooth in the library, and was sent to the nurse, who called me immediately. Because he had a second loose tooth he was in danger of losing, and it was causing him a great deal of pain, so they wanted me to come pick him up.

It wasn't until after we got in the car that I found out what had happened, and... I pretty much hit my limit of patience with Mrs. Picky at that moment. She rides him constantly, calls me and tells me things like, "Maybe you should move Mr. Impossible to another class, because he has such a hard time staying awake in mine. He's always half asleep, he never has a pencil, and he's always forgetting his I.D." Then she turns right around and says, "I love having your son in my class because he's so smart, and he's always reading, and he's so funny, and I just love him!!"

Talk about mixed messages!!

Okay, so I looked at him and said, "You want me to transfer you out of her class while we're here?"

He looked massively relieved and said, "Oh, thank you, Mom!!"

We go in to see the counselor, and I smiled pleasantly and said, "I would like to have my son switched out of his first period language arts class and into another first period language arts class. There's a personality conflict with his current teacher and it just isn't getting better, so I think it would be best for everyone all around if he's removed from her class and put in another one."

The counselor smiled at me and said, "Well, Mrs. J., I will speak to the AP and see if we can do that. It's late in the year, and we may not be able to do it, but I'll do my best."

Yeah, that's pretty much when my patience went out the door. I kept my smile, but raised an eyebrow and said, "Let me rephrase that. I'm not asking you to switch him out of that class. I'm telling you to switch him out of that class. It's not a request. He will be pulled."

"Mrs. J., it may not be possible..."

"Oh, it will be possible," I said, keeping a firm rein on my temper. "Because you put him in I.S.S. to get him away from her, you put him in I.S.S. because he pulled off a band-aid that SHE had put on him, you have allowed her to pull him out of classes at least twice a week with what sounds like very little justification, because this is a class he happens to be doing very well in, and he spends more time in lunch detention because of her than he does actually eating his lunch. So, yes, this is going to get done. Because you and I both know there is much more than just a personality conflict going on here, and I have completely lost my patience with it. I am done, are you understanding me?"

She looked at me gravely for a moment and then said, "Yes, Mrs. J. I am understanding you. If you would please write a note with your request and the reason for it, emphasizing the...er... personality conflict, then sign it and date it, I will give it to the AP and tell her that this is urgent. His schedule should be changed by Monday."

"Thank you, Mrs. C," I said, and I accepted paper and pen, writing the note right there. I dated it, signed it, and then I looked at her and said, "And this will be done by Monday, won't it?"

"I'll do my best, Mrs. J." she said.

"No," I said. "This will be done by Monday."

"Yes, Mrs. J, it will be done by Monday," she said.

I took my son and left, and went home.

So... today came, and... I got a phone call this morning. From Mrs. Picky. She informed me that she was writing up the Impossible Son for a referral, because he didn't do his journal assignment in class, and didn't finish his worksheet by the end of class. "I wasn't in class today," she gushed over the phone, "I was supervising some testing, so there was a substitute in my class, and she told me that your son said he was on restrictions and couldn't write. So I went to find him during his band class and there he was, playing his trombone just fine, so I decided to write him up for a referral. Would you like to speak to him?"

Which made me realize he had been standing there listening to all of this. And that when I talked to him, she would be standing there, listening.

Yeah, I was at the school within the hour. I went to see the counselor, and she looked up at me and said, "Oh, Mrs. J! I'm so sorry, but I haven't had time to get to Mr. Impossible's schedule!"

I smiled grimly and said, "Okay, so, this is what I'm going to do. I'm pulling Mr. Impossible out of school today. When you get his schedule redone, you call me and let me know. Because he's not coming back to school until he's out of that class. He and Mrs. Picky have gone way past personality conflict and mutual antagonism and that class has become a hostile environment. I won't have it. So, you change his schedule. The only thing I ask is that you keep him with his math teacher, because he's actually doing pretty well in her class. Other than that, do what you want."

Her mouth fell open during this "But, Mrs. J, these things take time!"

"No. They don't," I said angrily, not bothering to try to control it any more, because I was just so done. "If you can't do this, then I won't be bringing him back. My husband and I will pull him from this school and put him in another district. And since it wouldn't be fair to put our son in a better school district and leave his sister here, we'll pull her, too, and put her in the same district with him."

She actually went kind of green with that one and said, "I'll work on it right now."

"Thank you," I said, and turned to sign my son out. And on the line where it said "reason to check student out," I wrote "Rescue Mission."

I took him to San Marcos, because I had an errand at the library, and within the hour, my phone rang. It was the counselor. "I gave the information to the AP, and she approved it. Mr. Impossible will have his new schedule in the morning."

"Thank you," I said and let the Impossible Son know.

And you know, I am SO TIRED of having to spend so much time in front offices, trying to get this district to do right by my kids. It's ridiculous. It's so unnecessary. It's like clearing one hurdle only to find out there's another one to jump, and it's so frustrating. If we could move tomorrow and find a better school district, I'd do it in a heartbeat. But we can't. So we try to make the best of it that we can and hope that what we do to supplement our kids' education is enough.

Tomorrow, I will most likely be bearding the principal in her den to see if we can (1) get that damn referral shredded, and (2) find out just how many times that woman pulled my son out of classes. Because that? No. Just no. Because it seems like that was more harassment than for actual education purposes. And I am definitely not putting up with that!

Because I take their safety seriously...

So, there's something I've been pondering for quite some time, mostly since my daughter started junior high five short years ago. It was part of my decision to make sure she had a cell phone.

The biggest reason was safety. Since the junior high was across the soccer complex from the elementary school she'd attended, I'd been witness to several of the "fights" that occurred on a semi-weekly basis on the walking path between the junior high and the elementary school. And when I say "fight," what I really mean is "a large mass of older, larger boys ganging up on one or two very small boys and beating the shit out of them."

And yes, you bet I called 911 when I saw it happening! Unfortunately, it took at minimum two minutes, and sometimes up to six for the first police cruiser to show up. And the kids knew that. We, meaning the parents who saw these "fights," could practically time them with a stopwatch. It never failed that those kids would up and abruptly disappear, melting into the surrounding neighborhood at least thirty seconds before that first cop showed up.

And lest you say, "oh, but the kids must have heard the sirens," let me just add... the cops never came with the sirens going. They wanted to catch these kids, so they always came silently. Lights flashing, no sirens.

I wanted my daughter to have a phone to (1)call the cops at the first sign of trouble and (2) to get photos of the perpetrators.

And as she joined athletics, the phone became necessary for her to be able to call for a ride home after practice. Or to let me know she was staying at school for tutoring.

But there was another reason I wanted her to have a phone.

Columbine.

See, I've given both of my kids the "If There Is Big Trouble" speech after giving them cell phones. It doesn't have to be someone walking into the school with rifles and shotguns. It could be a tornado. It could be a natural gas explosion. It could be a zombie apocalypse. Whatever. I wanted my kids to have a phone so that they could call for help, whether it's 911 or Mom. Or both. So they wouldn't have to depend on school landlines.

I have told both of my kids, "if someone comes into your school shooting, I want you to go to your classroom door and lock it, then get everyone into the farthest corner from the door against the same wall the door is on so they can't be seen. If there's a window in the door, cover it. If there are windows in the classroom, cover them. Call 911 or designate someone who is calm to call. Turn tables on their sides, or desks and get behind them as cover. If there's a closet in the classroom that locks from the inside get in it, lock the door, and stay quiet. If you have an opportunity to slip out a window and escape, then do it and run for the nearest house or building and tell them what's going on and to call for help. Then stay there."

I've given them instructions for tornados and floods, too. Because I believe in being prepared. I believe in giving your kids tools to deal with the unexpected as far as you can, because not doing that is kind of... well... foolish.

I want my kids to survive, dammit.

Why am I writing this today? Well, what happened in Connecticut last week was a reminder for me of just why, no matter what physical measures you take to ensure safety in a school, it just... isn't enough. Why is it that schools have fire drills for our kids, to teach them how to safely exit a building without panicking in case there's a fire, or schools have tornado drills to teach our kids how to seek shelter in the school building during extreme weather... but there are no drills to teach our kids what to do when someone comes into the school wanting to hurt them?

You can put all the metal detectors you want around a school, and you can lock doors, install bulletproof glass, etc. And I'm not sure that those are really good ideas. Nor do I think arming teachers is a good idea, either. I really, really don't. Teachers are human beings and subject to the same frailties as the rest of us, and I really don't think it's a good idea to put handguns in a classroom setting for anything other than instructional purposes. Really.

What I do think is a good idea is instituting "Shooter drills," for lack of a better description. A random drill where a prearranged signal is given that everyone will recognize immediately means "shooter on the premises," and the school goes on lockdown. Teachers hustle kids into their classrooms, lock the doors, turn out the lights, cover the windows and secure the kids behind a wall of desks or something. Custodians lock doors between corridors to limit an unauthorized person's mobility, and lock doors to essential systems like the power plant, etc. Designated people, like office staff, or librarian, nurse, counselors, call the police and emergency services to alert them to the problem so that help is on the way immediately. Kids that are outside are hustled away from the building as quickly as possible and taken to safe locations within the neighborhood until help arrives.

Practice this every couple of weeks, until it becomes automatic, just like fire drills. I know there are some of you who are thinking this is very scary, and how can I even suggest it, that it'll scare the kids and make them fearful.

Do you seriously think our kids aren't fearful right now?? And you know what? Being prepared takes the fear out of it. It gives them something to do, something to focus on, gives them a little bit of the control that's been taken away from them back. They can do this. They can hide and make themselves as safe as they can and SURVIVE. Isn't that the most important thing??

Of course, this is all hitting kind of close to home for me, because I got a text from my daughter two hours ago during her lunch period. It seems that there was a rumor going around the cafeteria that a couple of sophomores were talking about having stolen "guns" from the local WalMart, and were saying they were going to "shoot up the school" this Friday.

You bet your sweet ass, I called the school!! And apparently, I wasn't the only one. In fact, the beleaguered secretary informed me I was the sixth or seventh parent to have called her in six minutes to ask about that very thing. She assured me the administration knew about it, and were investigating it, and would be sending a statement home with the kids. I asked if the police had been informed, because I'm thinking if WalMart was robbed, there would be a report, so they'd be able to confirm or deny, right?

There hadn't been time to call the police, because they'd only known about it after the phones started exploding with anxious parents calling to ask about it. And I could hear every single phone they have in the main office ringing off the hook in the background. So... I totally get it.

I am totally hoping this is an instance of Kids Being Stupid and trying to scare each other after the events at Sandy Hook Elementary. I am hoping it's just holiday goofiness, though it's in very poor taste. Besides, these things usually happen with little to no warning, so... to have talked about it to the point where rumors are going around would sort of... defeat the purpose, right? Right?

But you know, there's that tiny doubt in the back of my mind that thinks, "What if it isn't? What if someone really means it? What if someone really is stupid enough to bring shotguns to school...?"

And that tiny little pinprick of doubt is enough for me to think that being prepared is something we should all think about. And then do something about it.

Why, Yes, I AM A Huge Geek, Why Do You Ask??

Okay, so... dunno if this counts as a spoiler for Star Trek: Into Darkness because it's JUST A THEORY, but... just in case you don't want to read it, I'm warning you now so you can hit the back button and pretend you never saw this. Okay? Okay?

*pauses and waits while all the people who DON'T want to know retreat and go find something much more interesting to read*

Okay, so... I know a lot of people have theorized that the villain in the new film will be Khan, but after watching the new trailer that came out today, I... don't think so.

I think Benedict Cumberbatch is going to play... Gary Mitchell.

Why do I think this? Well... at first, I thought the blonde woman shown standing next to Captain Kirk on the bridge was Yeoman Rand, etc, but... after the second time watching it through, I thought... "You know, that looks more like Dr. Elizabeth Deyner."

And yeah, Gary Mitchell wasn't in the first Reboot movie (that we know of), but remember, this is a reboot of the Star Trek universe as we know it. So... maybe in this universe, James T. Kirk and Gary Mitchell weren't friends. And maybe Gary Mitchell was on another ship... or maybe he was the guy who got lung worm, who knows? Anyhow, the Enterprise's first mission with Captain Kirk at the helm in the original series as, "Where No Man Has Gone Before." But... we're rebooting, right?

So... anyhow, that's my theory. We've got Gary Mitchell who has achieved the god-like powers he'd gained in "Where No Man Has Gone Before" and... didn't get killed on that planet near the galactic rim by Captain Kirk, because this is a different timeline now.

Either way, this is going to be an awesome movie, and I CAN'T WAIT!!!

And that's all I have to say about that!!

Hey... IT COULD HAPPEN!!!

OMG,OMG,OMG, y'all! I KNOW HOW THE ZOMBIE APOCOLYPSE WILL START!!

Okay, so... Pizza Hut has come out with a new perfume that smells like... fresh baked pizza. Yes, you can spritz yourself with the essence of eau de pepperoni et bacon canadienne!

And Washington and Colorado have legalized pot.

SO... just picture it... a group of college students gathered together for pizza and movies, and to make the mood a little mellow, they're passing around a toke. And maybe a couple of the gals have spritzed on Le Pizza Hut or whatever it's called. And the guys are like, "Oh, baby, you smell so good, I could just eat you up!"

And they do.

...

BWAAAAA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-HAHAHAHAHAHA-HAHAHAHA!!!!

Because I'm SO HAPPY!!!

I did it. I broke my writer's block by writing a novel. It may not be the BEST thing I ever wrote. In fact, it's kind of awful, but... I finished it, and I'm so DAMN HAPPY!!

And it has potential to be better. It needs re-writing, fact-checking, some research... but it's a solid foundation, a good story... and I did it.

I DID IT!!!!

*victory dance with war whoops*

Let Me Explain A Few Things To You...

Okay, I have to address this.

"This," of course, is the story about the cheerleaders in Kountze, Texas who want to display biblically themed banners at pep rallies and football games.

*sighs*

They're claiming it is "free speech" and they should be allowed to do it. And, of course, it is free speech... but they cannot be allowed to do this.

"But why, oh, Toasterpop?" you ask.

I will tell you why. If these cheerleaders were acting as private citizens, or as regular students, holding up their banners from the stands like the legendary "John 3:16" Guy, there would be no problem. I, personally, would have no problem with this. It would be great, they could do it all they wanted. They might offend some people, but as they say, it's free speech, and they're allowed.

However... they're not acting as private citizens. They're cheerleaders, and they are acting at a school sanctioned event, as representatives of the school. A PUBLIC school. That's when those banners stop being free speech. If the school allows them to use those banners, the school is then allowing these cheerleaders to "proselytize" to every person in the audience, including their fellow students.

What's wrong with this?

Nothing, if you assume that every person in that audience is a Christian, and goes to their church, or follows their particular brand of Christianity.

The problem is, and it seems to be a concept that a lot of Christians can't grasp, not everyone is Christian. Not everyone sitting in those bleachers at the pep rally, or in the stands at the football game, are Christians. Or belong to the same church, or denomination, as those cheerleaders. Let's face it, some denominations are very particular about how they worship and express their religion.

Now, as you know, the Constitution of the United States has a Bill of Rights, allowing us all equal protections under the law. However, another concept that most Christians seem to be unable to grasp is... the Bill of Rights does not protect the rights of the majority.

Let me state that again.

THE BILL OF RIGHTS DOES NOT PROTECT THE RIGHTS OF THE MAJORITY.

It protects everyone. That means non-Christians as well as Christians.

That means non-Christians, be they Atheists, Agnostics, Pagans, Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists, Viking, you name it, have the right to attend a public event and not be proselytized within an inch of their lives.

It also means that if those Christian cheerleaders get to use biblically inspired banners at the football games, then Wiccan students can bring out Wiccan themed banners to the game. So can Buddhists. And Muslims. Yes, if they want to paint a banner that says, "Allah Hu Akbar! Go Team!!" then they can. And the Texas State Attorney General can't say diddly squat, because HE SUPPORTED THOSE CHEERLEADERS.

If you're going to allow it for one group, then you have to allow it for ALL OF THEM.

Because public schools are government funded entities, and therefore cannot support one religion over another. And a football game/pep rally are events sponsored by that publicly funded entity, and those cheerleaders are representatives of that publicly funded entity.

Do you understand now?

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof..."

If you're going to allow one to pass out religious materials in a school, or have meetings, or have religiously inspired banners, or to pray at meetings, games, etc... then you have to allow them ALL to do it. ALL OF THEM.

Get that through your heads. This is not a Christian nation. It is a nation made up of people from many countries, and of many different religions (or lack of them). It always has been.

And that, my friends, is the way it is.

Because creativity needs to be nurtured...

The Impossible Son has one class period that at one time might have been called "study hall." However, this one is more interactive, as it's basically a tutoring period because our district fell way behind on math and reading scores ("hmmmm, wonder how that happened?" Jo asks sarcastically). So... he's getting extra help in math and in language arts.

So, a couple of days ago, they were working on "correcting sentence fragments," basically changing fragments and making them into whole sentences. And the example given was "at the station," which had a finished example of "I can meet you at the station tomorrow morning."

Then the teacher made the mistake of saying, "But that's boring, I'm sure y'all can do better than that!"

Heh.

So... these are the sentences my SON came up with. His "corrections" will be in italics. You might want to put any liquids far from the computer, and don't drink anything while reading, because some of them are surprisingly hysterical.

Don't say I didn't warn you!

1. Before the dance I killed a vampire.

2. While we worked on the experiment my friends turned into zombies.

3. Once the baseball season begins, THEY WILL COME!!

4. Ahead of me, he watched me with a bat.

5. After the summer vacation, vampires came.

6. Without a pen or pencil I can't kill Bigfoot.

7. Opposite the park he still watched me, but with Bigfoot.

8. When she began to speak a bear came, wielding a sword.

9. Even though the temperature was warm, the bears took over.

10. From my seat, I could see the orcs coming.

11. Next to the library, they were still watching me.

12. How the rumor spread was because of the duck.

13. On top of my dresser was a honey badger.

14. Past the principal's office, they continued to watch me.

15. When they are found, we take them to NARNIA!!



I think my personal favorite is #6. I laughed so hard when he read that one out to me that I nearly drove us into a ditch. Though... a bear wielding a sword is pretty funny, and so is a honey badger on a dresser. I wonder if it cares?

For eleven years old and having virtually no writing instruction beyond what I cram down his throat during those times he's willing to sit still for it, that's not a bad fledgling effort at letting his wonderfully weird sense of humor show through. What kind of bothers me, though, is the teacher had laughed and said, "This is weird. It's crazy, what's up with this??"

And then I remembered, "Oh, wait, that's right, they don't have things like irony, humor, and creativity here." Because, you know, this sort of thing, well... it's normal at my house!

Yes, yes, I'm getting sarcastic again.

Still, I'm proud of what he's done, and happy to see his creativity developing. I can't wait to see what he does next!