Because the Halloween party took a long time to wrap up in her classroom and parents lingered despite her best efforts, one teacher at our school wasn’t able to leave her classroom until more than 15 minutes past the start of her lunch break. She was forced to come back on time to keep her classroom in the correct teacher-to-student ratio after naptime. Will the Kensington ownership pay her for her lost break time? Are you kidding?
I’m beginning to learn that Pemberton parents are like no other, particularly Netherville Pemberton parents. We get all kinds of attitude and odd requests from them. For example, we give the children stickers at the end of the class period if they’ve behaved well that day. It’s a hassle and personal expense for the teachers, but the kids seem to love it. We usually put the stickers on the backs of their hands so they can look at them easily, but the students are welcome to move them anywhere on their person they’d like, except for their faces. Not too long after school had started this fall, one mom made a special trip into the school at pick-up time to tell us, “Don’t put Savir’s sticker on his hand. He doesn’t like it there. It bothers him.” Fine. No problem. Savir can put the sticker wherever he likes. If I weren’t a professional and a lady, I’d have some suggestions at the end of a long, hard work day exactly where you could put the sticker!
Today I had an interesting communiqué from the mother of my sweet, but very pampered, Anikait. Each day, the students at Pemberton bring their little canvas green totes luxuriously embroidered with the tasteful Pemberton logo, but they’re only supposed to have things in them they absolutely need for school, such as an extra set of clothes, tuition checks, or notes from the parent to the teacher. So when a water bottle showed up in Anikait’s tote last week, and he kept disrupting the classroom routine asking to use it, I questioned why he had brought it since Pemberton is full of drinking fountains, sinks, snacks containing beverages, and opportunities to use all of them throughout the class period.
“My mother told me to,” he replied.
“Well, tell your mother she doesn’t need to send one. We have plenty of water for you to drink.”
Today when I was checking Anikait’s tote upon his arrival, I found not only the water bottle, but a note from Anikait’s mother.
It read, “I am sending a water bottle for Anikait to use, because the water at your school is too cold for Anikait. He doesn’t like it.”
Are you kidding me? The tepid water out of our water fountains is too cold for Anikait? I was half tempted to locate a thermometer and test the temperature of the water in Anikait’s water bottle and compare it to the school water, but the rational side of me took over. I shrugged it off and turned to find Anikait intently studying my reaction to his mother’s note. I had to respond somehow.
“That’s fine, Anikait. You can have your water bottle, but you may not ask for it at circle time or when Miss Crystal and I are giving instructions.”
He skipped away to the table toys, and I tried to console myself that I hadn’t actually caved to parental pressure about a ridiculous request. Instead, I had imposed reasonable restrictions to stop the interruption of instructional time while honoring the parent’s request. Still, I couldn’t help but shake my head. He must be treated like a king at home.