A new school year…

So we got the school supplies and fresh haircuts. I checked the school website obssessively waiting to see which teachers would be teaching our children for the next 9 months.

The stakes were kind of high.

Grand Master H had a slightly rough time last year. He had two teachers last year, a “team teaching/job sharing situation” which is awesome for them. They are both moms and I get the urge to want to work and be there for your children. However, one teacher was calm and cool and the other one was a nervous chihuahua of an accounting type. The Oscar Madison/Felix Unger-style of every week was jarring to Grand Master H. Very early on he started calling one teacher Mean Old “Mrs. Unger” and it pretty much went downhill from there.

There were also bullies and other issues, new friends, science experiments that fired his imagination/curiosity, so I opted not to make his situation worse by going to the mattresses with “Mrs. Unger.” Which, by the way, is not her real name, but really really suits her uptight, rigid, clenched personality. Her career choice is woefully incorrect. Dealing with unpredictable messy first graders really should not have been her career path, but alas, we were in it and made the best of it.

So, at 3:10 when I saw that Famous Baby C would be having her kindergarten teacher again for first grade, I pretty much wept with joy. And then, Grand Master H got Mrs. Wildcard, I wasn’t sure how to feel.

So we went to the pool and had fish tacos and fun on the last official full day of summer vacation.


And the next morning we gathered our 2,413 pounds of school supplies and trundled to school. We found their respective lines and they lined up with old friends, a few old enemies and some people we didn’t know. But we kept it positive, because despite everything, I wanted them to feel good about the new year and I was so hopeful.

And then, Mrs. Wildcard came and introduced herself to every child in her line and every parent. She took almost 30 minutes to talk to each child and each parent. And then she took her freshly minted second graders to her classroom, told them a few basic rules of her classroom, was completely awesome and loving and patient. It was immediately obvious to me that Mrs. Wildcard loves her job and loves these little people. Her passion for her job radiates from her.

And then I went to the car and the patiently waiting Mr. Smith and I wept with joy and relief. I knew that Mrs. Wildcard wasn’t a wildcard at all, she would be so wonderful for Grand Master H and that he would like her. Second grade would be much better than first grade had been.

On Friday, after two days of being in Mrs. Wildcard’s class I asked him what he thought, “She’s a good teacher Mommy, and she’s really nice.”

For. The. Win!!!