Rock, Hard Place

Not only was yesterday Lo's hundredth day of school this year; it was also teacher/parent conferences. Biggy had a meeting, so I was elected to attend. Here's the call I made to my husband on the way:

TR: Hey, you don't know how much I HATE to ask you this, but it would be even worse to have to ask those ladies in the office.

Biggy: What?!

TR: Where's Lola's classroom?

Biggy: Wow, I wish I had a blog.


biggy said...


M. RuPere said...

poor biggy

ga said...

Those parent/teacher conferences are bullshit anyway... the teachers are just happy they don't have to be in the room with the 8 year old screaming kids, so they would probably be even happier if you didn't show up in the first place.... longer lunch hour for them. What can they tell you about your own kid that you don't know yourself?

Tania Rochelle said...

Where her classroom is?

ButtonHole said...

"Way She Move" comin down th' hall, you be thinkin she don know where she goin.

ktothefe said...

You can always just "power" walk down the hallway, as if you know where you're going. Pick a room, and commandingly inform the teacher (of your choice) that "she's not Lo's teacher, " as if it were the teacher's fault. Then demand that she tell you where Lo's teacher's room is. Then smile nicely and say thank you! That's what I used to do during the first few week of class in college!!!

Tania Rochelle said...

Only you could pull that one off, ktothefe.

ButtonHole said...

My luck would be that I'd happen to choose the room that WAS Lo's teacher. She's say, "Yes, I am." I'd maintain that NO, she certainly WAS NOT. Eventually, security would have to be called and I'd be taken away in handcuffs.

Normal situations like this have a nasty way of turning on me. I just try to stay at home as much as possible.

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