Willem and I dropped Nels off at 8:45 and picked him up at 3:30. SIX HOURS AND FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER. That was weird.
When we were finally reunited (the scene at the school was a total madhouse), this is the one thing he had to say:
"Hey mom, you know what my teacher does that's kind of funny? When she tells us something we have to do, after she tells us, she says, 'Get it? Got it? Good.' And then we say it back."
He shook his head with appreciation as he repeated the phrase. That is so Nels. Whereas just the thought of anyone saying that to me makes me cranky.
I had really been looking forward to having Nels in school for most of the day. So I was surprised to find myself a little concerned about it when the time actually came. My job is to help him grow up to be the best person he can be. And now he is going to be spending his day with a group of people who are very nice and are very good at what they do; but not a one of them has that job.
Hmm. The decision to homeschool one's children despite the availability of an excellent public school has suddenly become less inexplicable to me.
And then there is this:
I'm going back to school today
The summer has almost past
When I think of all the things to learn
The year will go very fast.
This is the first stanza of a poem Nels brought home from school. It's bad enough that the second sentence doesn't technically make sense, but "The summer has almost past?" Has almost PAST? HAS PAST?
The rest of the poem contains fewer grammatical offenses, but is no less inane. For example:
Father bought me some brand new jeans
And a cowboy shirt to match
Grandpa says I'll need a ball
So I can practice playing catch.
PLEASE, public school, PLEASE don't teach my kid to hate poetry. I really don't want to homeschool.