I’m sorry, I just don’t care.

Children. Sigh. They make our individual lives so difficult, and yet they are necessary for the survival of the species.

I have just returned from a parent-teacher conference at my son’s school. Apparently, his lunch time antics have led to an ant infestation. Insert embarrassment here. (If you have been lucky enough to miss the lunch time antics and are feeling brave, please read the previous post titled Master of Decpetion.)

There have been several times in my relatively few encounters with Japanese teachers when I start to feel sorry for them because they are talking to a parent who just does not care about the issue at hand.

When Me First’s preschool teacher last year was going on and on about how he could not use chopsticks, I could actually feel my eyes glaze over. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. In my head I’m saying, “For goodness sake, woman, I first encountered chopsticks when I was 20 and am proficient enough with them now. See Exhibit A: my waistline. I don’t think this is an issue we need to be getting all worked up over when we are talking about a five year old child. Frankly, the knowledge that he is attempting to use these particular utensils for their intended purpose and not as a projectile is enough to satisfy me!” Lucky for her, I guess, that don’t know how to say ‘projectile’ in Japanese, and that I don’t actually talk like that.

Another incident occurred at the other parent-teacher conference we had at the beginning of the school year. The teacher was extremely concerned that my son is(was) ambidextrous. This time my eyes didn’t glaze over, but I swear I felt my ears go numb. She wanted to know how I felt “we” should address this “problem.” She brought this up again today, by the way. “Now he almost exclusively uses the right hand to eat and write,” she says with pride. I felt a tinge of sadness for my son, and then a thrill of fright when I imagined the therapy bills this is gonna lead to.

Then on to the main topic, which wasn’t why my son had felt the need to hide weeks worth of gourmet delicacies in his desk, or even the fact that he had done it. No, she wanted to talk about finding a way to make him eat. Well, you know, I’ve kind of got a six year head start on worrying about that, and since I haven’t come up with anything ingenious yet I sorely doubt that this ten minute powwow is going to lead to an epiphanic moment. That being said, I did try to keep an open mind. Maybe she’ll produce a burning bush from her desk or something, you never know. She is a professional educator, after all.

During some point in this conversation, I think I may have had an out of body experience. I was looking down on my physical self. Neither of us care very much that my child doesn’t eat all of his school lunch. I’ve seen the menu; they serve things that I don’t want to eat, either. And I can eat octopus tentacles and raw fish eggs and stuff. Is my son eating a well balanced meal? Is he trying everything? Is he eating enough to satisfy his appetite and get him through until dinner time? Okay, so what’s the problem, exactly?

His teacher seems like a person who genuinely cares about her students. I appreciate her concern, but this is just not a priority for me. I wonder if Hallmark has a card for an occasion like this?

Roses are reds
Violets are blue
Don’t care about this,
But appreciate you!

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. tamariez
    Oct 28, 2011 @ 00:47:52

    Lol you crack me up! I love how you take things most I think would complain/worry about and find the humor in them..

    Reply

  2. Margeee
    Oct 28, 2011 @ 07:51:42

    I can definitely relate to the glazed eyes, numb ears and the sensation of floating somewhere near the ceiling, however I experience these during interminable corporate meetings where after sitting thru hours of blah blah blah I have learned only that I’m still a grunt and the boss is still the boss…

    Reply

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