“Today at school, I had to put together a presentation on my family. So, I copied a bunch of pictures from everyone’s Instagram and Twitter accounts. For you, I found a picture of you standing in the snow, in your robe.”
My thoughts: The children have left for school. I’m going to kick off my slippers, curl up and read my email while I drink my coffee.
Dog thoughts: Wait for it. Wait for it. Her slippers are off. Her feet are up. She opened the laptop aaaand…. NOW! Open the door! Let the cat escape! Watch mom scramble. Bwa-ha-ha! Best joke ever!
Cat thoughts: The door is open. I must walk outside. Scary! Noises! Feels! Smells! I must hop in the ditch. Can’t move. Afraid. Mom’s screaming and flapping at me. I’d better not get out of the ditch. I’ll wait for mom to crawl down here and pick me up. She likes that.
It’s School Board candidate forum season again. Yay. Also, boo. If you have never attended one of these events with the hope of learning what kind of board member each candidate would be, you’ve missed out. It begins with introductions. Each candidate states their name, the church they attend and how much they love their spouse and xx number of children. While this is useful information if I wanted to write a biography, it does nothing to help voters make decisions based on things that matter. They should say their name and make a one sentence mission statement. Get to the point. “The name’s Smith and I don’t want our students eating square pizza when pizza should be triangular.” See how easy that is?
After the mandatory introductions, the candidates are asked questions. Their answers come in paragraph form. They either include enough loopholes to make the statement pointless or they are jargon that reveal the candidate has not even begun to research that topic. This is not a good use of anyone’s time. When the board votes on anything, they vote yes or no. They do not get to vote for jibber-jabber. So, I have written ten yes or no questions that I would like each candidate to answer. I know that you really want to add a disclaimer to each and every yes or no, but that’s not an option in real world voting.
1. Do you support the current Magnet school program in Knox County?
2. Do you endorse vouchers in Knox County?
3. Do you endorse charter schools in Knox County?
4. Will you vote for a new middle school in Hardin Valley?
5. Will you vote for a new middle school in the Gibbs community?
6. Do you agree with the current teacher evaluation system in Knox County?
7. Do you agree with the current implementation of Common Core standards in Knox County?
8. Are the Common Core standards developmentally appropriate?
9. Do you support a year-round calendar?
10. Do you believe in Climate Change?
Yes, I am aware that the tenth question is a profiling question instead of a board decisions question. I’m including it anyway.
Random thought after listening to the trash can get blown down the driveway by a strong gust of wind:
Since our smoke detector *talks to us and the connected thermostat knows the weather conditions, how difficult would it be for tornado warning alerts to be sent to the talking smoke detector? “Go to the basement. Go to the basement.”
*It also sends alerts to our cell phones
While it is a perfectly reasonable in-school assignment for a library research project, it is a nightmare to assign a homework project that will inevitably be researched online on the subject of “cougars.” I can’t even use a search engine while my child is looking at the screen. Please remove “cougars” from your list of animal projects.
P.S. Expecting an 8-y-o boy to make a 3D model of a cougar is cruel and unusual punishment. Habitat? Fine. Actual animal? Give me a break.
Supertween: “Daaaaad, my Netflix is broken.”
Dad: “What’s wrong with it?”
Supertween: “Well, I couldn’t remember the password, so I signed up for a free trial and now the trial is over.”
Supertween: “Can you fix it?”
Dad: “I’ll see what I can do.”
It is day three of the harrowing experience known as snow days. Schools are closed. Businesses have barricaded their doors to prevent french toast looters. The outdoors is quiet and magical. Indoor volume is rapidly approaching hearing damage level.
The house reeks of burnt popcorn. The kitchen trash is piled too high to close the lid and unpopped kernels have spilled onto the floor. There are no bowls in the cabinet. They are licked clean of contents, but hidden under beds and behind computer monitors.
Muddy bootprints are everywhere. The wet boots are tossed carelessly all over the bathroom floor. They sit in puddles of their own grime, threatening to ruin the socks of anyone with a full bladder. Every coat, ski pant, hat, glove and thermal in the house is piled in front of the washing machine.
Giant, soggy dogs are stretched out on the couch. They snore loudly as their wet dog perfume seeps into the threadbare couch cushions. A stray piece of popcorn is squished into the smaller dog’s fur.
Romantic Valentine plans have devolved into hopes of an adult only escape to the corner store for milk. Conditions are harrowing. Our only hope for survival is to eat Punxsutawney Phil.
He: “Do you realize that you look terrified every time I lean in to kiss you lately?”
She: “That’s because I’m bracing myself to be electrocuted.”
He: leans in for a kiss
She: reaches out, puts her hand on his cheek and smiles
He: “My wife, the grounding strip.”
Best kiss ever.
Sawyer: “Westley licked your chicken. Are you still gonna eat it?”
SuperTween: “Sure. Westley licked Santa’s cookies and Santa still ate them.”