As Luck Would Have It

Tuesday and Wednesday evenings were Curriculum Nights at my children's school -- the teachers were giving overviews of the curriculum for the different grades and different classes.

Because there are so many teachers and classes, the event had to be spread over two nights, depending on the grades of your children (nursery through grade 8), and I had to go both nights.

It was important for me to go the first night because it was for my son in grade 6 and I felt I needed to know what was going on for the year, as I'd not experienced it before.

And it was well worth it, especially for the English studies. My son's teacher is like a stand-up comic; she had the parents cracking up -- and heckling -- and the atmosphere was so leibedik (lively). I know she creates an equally entertaining atmosphere in which to teach. How do I know that? Because said teacher was recognized a couple of years ago with a Teacher of the Year Award as voted by students throughout the Jewish day school and Jewish after-school system in Toronto and its outskirts. I think my son is in for a treat this year!

My other children, in grades 1 and 4, have familiar teachers, and my attitude was "Been there, done that!" so I thought it wasn't so imperative that I go. But my 9-year-old daughter begged me to go so that I may view her artwork in her classroom, saying it might be my only chance to see it.

And I listened to my daughter.

I was supposed to be in the classroom for 8:00 for the English studies curriculum, but probably made it there about 5 minutes late. The information evening was already in session, with parents scattered around the room in the mini desks and chairs. I moved quickly into the room and sat down at an available spot.

After settling in, and getting a handout from a person nearby, I looked down at the desk I was sitting at. And lo, and behold, on the placecard atop the desk, was written my daughter's name!

In a classroom of over twenty-four desks and chairs, set in groups of four (two side by side facing two others, side by side), I had ended up sitting at the same spot my daughter goes to every morning.

Later, I spoke to the teacher, made mention of the same thing and she, too, had noticed where I had chosen to sat.

Merely coincidence...?

Overlooked/ A Disjointed Poem

As children we need to know
that a person cares...
that they will gently guide us
which way we go.

We look to a parent, a friend, a camp counsellor
or a teacher to be our guidepost.

When we raise our hands in class and say, "Oh, oh. Pick me!"
we need to know that someone cares enough
to listen to what we have to say.

When a teacher says, "Stop antagonizing me," that comment stays for life.

Is it a sign that I care too much, need to say too much?

Is that why I'm ignored?

The silence meets me like a block of glass.
Cold. Cold. COLD.
When all I want to do is exude warmth.

Overlooked again, my words scatter into the wind.

Silence.