Had the first term PTA today. Tiny chairs, teachers who don’t know my children, both telling me what a pleasure it is to have them in the class. Mystifies me- how those two horrors who can lay a field of destruction in this house within five minutes can be seen as studious and considerate.
They’ll have a good career as grifters at some point, scamming people into buying tracts of swampland, or real estate on the moon. I can see through their little tricks- I was trying to raise problem areas- which I know exist, and the teachers kept on cutting me off. They must have some dirt on the teachers- maybe an ill-advised ‘romantic’ video with a partner, or a small foil package they caught them with in the staff loos- whatever it is, those teachers are in my children’s pockets.
Maybe James called up some of his buddies on one of the paper cell phones he makes – shame- deprived kid, and asked them to make teacher an offer she couldn’t refuse. I looked around the classroom for a box of severed fingers, or a horses head, but all I saw were really badly drawn pictures of what I think were jellyfish. Those kids can’t draw for toffee!
So after two VERY perfunctory meetings- teachers looking anxiously over my shoulder, alternately at the clock and the door, I left, satisfied that my children have found a safe path through the scholarly life: The Classa Nostra.
They’ll have a good career as grifters at some point, scamming people into buying tracts of swampland, or real estate on the moon. I can see through their little tricks- I was trying to raise problem areas- which I know exist, and the teachers kept on cutting me off. They must have some dirt on the teachers- maybe an ill-advised ‘romantic’ video with a partner, or a small foil package they caught them with in the staff loos- whatever it is, those teachers are in my children’s pockets.
Maybe James called up some of his buddies on one of the paper cell phones he makes – shame- deprived kid, and asked them to make teacher an offer she couldn’t refuse. I looked around the classroom for a box of severed fingers, or a horses head, but all I saw were really badly drawn pictures of what I think were jellyfish. Those kids can’t draw for toffee!
So after two VERY perfunctory meetings- teachers looking anxiously over my shoulder, alternately at the clock and the door, I left, satisfied that my children have found a safe path through the scholarly life: The Classa Nostra.
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