Thursday, July 23, 2015

8th Grades A'Comin

The boys will be starting 8th grade in a mere four weeks.  Yesterday I wandered through the school supply section at Target, enjoying the smell of crayons, the sight of pencils that still possessed their erasers and the feel of fresh new composition notebooks.  I love school supplies.  Long before I had kids or was even married, I would go school supply shopping for one of the moms that I worked with because she was so over the task and I loved picking through all the pencil sharpeners to find the red one.  With that being said, I have just one thing that I ask of the teachers, school administrators, district superintendents, the entire national common-core curriculum.  It's my grown-up Christmas wish.  Please, please, please, no more glue sticks.  I beg you.  Either initiate an arts program in the school system or put the craft supplies away once and for all.

They were fun to begin with, way back in Kindergarten, but trust me when I say, they have run their course.  I used to dream of the day when the boys might consider using a larger font for a column heading or line up the edges or apply more paste to the project than my furniture.  Those dreams were dashed on the same jagged rocks that slew my dreams of one day fitting back into my wedding dress. They will never cut in a straight line.  Let's move on.

I suppose I could defend them by saying that they are boys so glitter glue was not a significant part of their early childhood or I could say that they're teenagers and would much prefer to be playing video games. But the fact of the matter is, they just don't give a shit.  They barely give a shit about the rest of their homework; the worksheet pages, the essays, the quizzes and exams.  Hand them a box of colored pencils and the very last ounce of shit-giving that they had flies out the window.

My biggest issue with glue sticks is that whenever they are required, I have to run to the store and buy more.  The glue sticks that I bought for the previous project are either 1) lost, 2) dried out, or 3) eaten by the dog.  Abbey actually ate a project that Sam had completed and left on the coffee table.  Yum, cow hooves and rendered horse fat. They should flavor dog treats with that shit. The next day, I walked Sam all the way into his classroom just so I could see the look on his teacher's face when he told her that his dog ate his homework.  I've rarely giggled so hard. "Go on! Tell her.  Tell her!"  And don't even get me started on their inability to click the cap back on all the way. I should have bought stock in Elmers.

I keep hearing how kids today are vastly ahead of us academically then we were that age.  Well, that may be but we gave up paste in second grade and I'm quite sure that it didn't take a PTA initiative or a town hall meeting.  The moms just said, 'we're tired of the shit' and stopped buying it.  Rather than have them cut and paste together a brochure about the chief exports of Albania, how about having them make the brochure on the computer?  You've only got about $100K of computer equipment in that building and you keep asking me for money to buy more. Hell, you got a fucking 3D printer in there. They could make a roman coliseum rather than paste a picture of one onto a tri-fold display board. The computers even come with a handy cut and paste function that doesn't involve wiping paste all over my dining room table. AND developing brochures on a computer is an actual job. The last company that I worked for had an entire floor of people creating catalog layouts.  Not a glue stick, ruler or pair of scissors in sight. The craft supplies are only training these kids to be nannies.  Let's shoot a little higher, huh?

This year, I'm putting my foot down. I'll call in PETA if I have to. I'm sure they'd love to mount a campaign to have the old decrepit livestock put out to pasture rather than melted down in an attempt to present the rise of the agricultural revolution in a new and exciting way.  We can stage a protest with signs and chants and everything.  So, say it with me, girls, loud and strong, 'No more glue sticks!'

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