2nd First day of kindergarten and Mom's throwing punches

Finally after a two month Christmas vacation, Rockwell got to go back to school... but not until after the secretary of the school and I almost had to take things outside. My first run in with her 5 weeks ago wasn't a holiday either but I let it go figuring she deals with parents all day long, had a bad day, dog bit her ankle that morning, whatever. But after this second meeting, dog or no dog, this woman should not be working at the front desk of a school. I handed in the miles of files of paperwork required of me, all ready to go, so Rock could finally start school. The first thing she did is question with sincere doubt if my address was in the school’s boundries. I told her all the other kids in the neighborhood went to this school, and our real estate agent triple checked to make sure. She said she'd never heard of our neighborhood so she didn’t think we were at the right school. Another lady just happened to come in right then and confirmed that yes indeed, we belonged at this school. Then the secretary proceeded to fill out the additional paperwork needed to assign Rock to a class, copying information from his birth certificate. VERY politely I asked if there was a place she could note in his file that he did not go by his first name, but rather his middle name, Rockwell. She quite coldly shot back, "I have to do exactly what it says on his birth certificate and it says here his name is Bradley."

"Yes, it is. And of course I understand that has to be on all the official paperwork, but is there somewhere you can make a note that he goes by Rockwell?"

"It's district policy that we copy a student's name exactly as it appears on his birth certificate."

"Yes. I understand that. But is there somewhere you can make a note that he goes by Rockwell?" (Yes you are reading this right, I didn't accidentally rewrite the conversation twice.)

"Mam," she says in a cold, demeaning way, "It says here his name is Bradley."

I then see her go down a list of names on several class rosters to find which class has the least amount of students. The class is found, and Rockwell is the 21st student in his class. The secre-demon then ran her finger down the class list and wrote his name at the bottom: Palmer, Bradley. I noted to myself all the other students had a middle initial after their name on the roster but she wasn't going to give me the pleasure of seeing anything remotely related to his middle name on official school paperwork. I think I saw her eyebrow raise and a low snort come out of a half-cocked smile as she did it.

"Is there anywhere on the form you can make a note that his middle name is Rockwell, and that's the name he uses?"

"I can't do anything different than what it says on his birth certificate."

Perhaps she has forgotten that his middle name IS on the birth certificate.

At this point I knelt down to Rockwell and said, "Sweetie, if you ever hear someone call for Bradley Palmer or Palmer, Bradley they could be talking about you since that is your first name. Just correct them and say you go by Rockwell."

"Mam," her voice higher pitched now with the hint of a power-crazed dictator, "I can ONLY put what it says on his Birth Certificate, which is Bradley."

Up until this point I had stayed calm and collected, but now the wrath of a tired, misplaced, out of sorts, relocated, homeless westerner came out, "MAM, I am telling my child that he needs to correct people if they call him Bradley, because he doesn't go by that name. I'm allowed to explain to my child that his records are going to say Bradley, and he needs to be aware they are talking to him."

Then, in an even higher pitched voice and I think her bum raised slightly out of her seat, she said, "I'm going by district policy so I can't put that name down as his name."

"I wasn't talking to you anymore. You obviously can't understand what his name is so I'm explaining to him, which I have every right to do, what might happen in the future and how he can respond to it." So I told him again, not because I think he needed to hear it again, but because she did. She acted as if I was breaking "district policy" again by talking to my child. I will admit my voice was much more annoyed sounding than I hoped it would be, and I found myself pausing between each word as if that would help her understand more, "He... goes... by... RRAAAHHKKWEELLL!" Since I'd never been in a fist fight before, I decided on the school grounds in front of my 5-year-old wasn't the best time. Finally at the bottom of the note admitting Rockwell to his class (not official paperwork by any means) she wrote, "Prefers to be called Rockwell." She actually said Rockafeller before she wrote it and I kindly corrected her with the most sugary thank you attached to my victorious smile as possible.

When we got to the class there was only an hour of school left and it was on Valentines Day, so the teacher asked me nicely to bring him back the next school day since they were having a party and there wasn't enough treats and valentines for Rock. I said that would be fine, I'd bring him back Monday. Monday was a holiday. So, finally, on Tuesday, February 17, 2009, Rockwell had his 2nd First day of School.

Now I could end the story here, but I'll give you a little more information. When I took Rock to school on Tuesday, I asked his teacher if I needed to sign up to be a parent volunteer. She told me to wait a couple weeks to see how Rockwell did before I came to class. She thought I wanted to babysit my child! I told her Rock was fine without me, I was just wondering if she needed some help, and was there not a list of parent volunteers? She said no, and with a shocked expression on her face said if I wanted to help, maybe I could come in and cut some strips of paper or something like that in the supply room for future art projects. Not what I had in mind, but if thats the help she needs I'll do it. I don't know how she does this. She has 21 students for 7 hours and no assistants. We'll see how this works out!

When Rockwell got home from school I asked him how it was. He said fine. I said, "what did you learn today?"

"About hearts and Valentines day."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

"Did you read anything or do math?"

"No, just hearts and valentines. Oh wait, the teacher showed the kids the word 'I' and they didn't even know what it was!! (Huge step backwards... starting to get nervous.)

"Well, I bet you made some friends. Do you remember anyones name?"

"No."

"Who did you sit next to at lunch?"

He answered completely innocently and without malice, "A fat kid whose breath smelled like chips."

Okay so maybe I have some of my own teaching to do to my little kindergartener!

Then yesterday I forgot to give him lunch money so I called the school at 11am to see if it was too late to bring some money by for him. I was told the Kindergarten classes already had lunch. Before 11 am I asked? Yes, they eat lunch at 9:45am! What??? He has lunch at 9:45am and doesn't get out of school until 1:45? 9:45am, that's called breakfast, not lunch! No wonder why they can't teach kindergarteners to read at this school! They're all brain dead from being starved! I'd like to talk to someone about the "district policy" on that one. Maybe they just starve their office secretaries too. That would explain a lot!

We did start moving in on Tuesday and I only get the internet sometimes when I can "borrow" a connection from my one-bar-signal neighbor. But I will try to get you some pictures soon!