Parent Teacher Conference
Dear Mom,
You left 4 months ago. You clearly didn't mean to leave when you did, with your shoes sitting by the door and your unfinished paper boxes of chocolates for Relief Society.
No one else wants to hear how the girls are doing. No one else has lived with us for so long and understands them and the dynamics of my family like you do. I've retreated into my own silence and my own world, desperately trying to survive each day--sometimes each hour--knowing that although so many friends and family care (and I couldn't survive without their support), there is really no one left that has experienced firsthand the horror story I'm starring in.
We had parent teacher conferences last night at Leah and Hannah's school. We had to bring Lucy, who wet her pants twice and cried to go home. Here's a summary of teacher comments:
HANNAH:
*a natural leader
*most well-liked student
*grades range from 85 (one class) to 93-99 (every other class)
*no missing assignments
*can work with anyone
*reads at a college level, knows the answer to nearly every question
*brings an infectious positive energy to the group
*has a strong interest and understanding of science
*was invited to attend an elite "Farm for City Kids" trip to Vermont in May
*can do 80 pushups
LEAH:
*lowest grade is 90%
*no missing assignments
*placed in a math group for 'strong students'
*will she please make more comments in Biology? Her understanding of DNA replication would really help the other students
*why is she so self-conscious? We can put her in any group and she will always be on task
*Did you know that she wrote a near perfect essay on her experience with toxic beauty standards in Utah?
*We loved her paper on "You Can't Be Feminist and Anti-Abortion At the Same Time". We'd like her to join clubs for writing
*We're going to give her some challenge assignments for advanced students
*I'd like her to consider submitting her writing for teen publication. She is insightful, creative, funny and has a large vocabulary
*can do 6 push ups and recently nicknamed the cat "Labia Minora" (thank you, Health class)
I went home in shock and shame. You would have been so proud of them, Mom. You would have posted something thoughtful on social media. You would have encouraged them more. But I had to admit several times that I have never logged into the school's grading system, I had no clue that Leah wrote a paper on Utah's beauty standards (it's about time someone wrote about it). I didn't know they were excelling in math and science. I don't know what's going on because I'm so tired and grief-stricken. I usually ask if they've done their homework. They usually come to me for help. They always know I love them. But I still went to bed full of guilt that, once again, I've been reminded that I can't do everything. I can't even do a tenth of everything.
And at night, when everyone stops asking for one last hug goodnight, that feeling of dread comes back. Not the PTSD dread, the other one. The one where you know another bomb is going to stop soon and you can't stop it. The one where you know another major change is coming and you have to choose to accept the train wreck and not fight it. But why does it have to involve more change for these girls? They've built a life and a school career for themselves. They love their school, their friends and their church group. Can't we just stay and make it here a little longer?
Did you know that Sean wants to take the house money and invest it in more house money? I tried to tell him about my precarious, ever changing financial situation. Investing in property is a great idea. I guess I wanted to invest in a master's degree and a home music studio, though. Not to mention the fact that I have expensive kids and was hoping for a savings to draw from every time a thing comes up. And things ALWAYS come up. I need some time on this, but there is no time. I wish I didn't feel pushed into it already.
Bye, Mom. Thanks for listening.
You left 4 months ago. You clearly didn't mean to leave when you did, with your shoes sitting by the door and your unfinished paper boxes of chocolates for Relief Society.
No one else wants to hear how the girls are doing. No one else has lived with us for so long and understands them and the dynamics of my family like you do. I've retreated into my own silence and my own world, desperately trying to survive each day--sometimes each hour--knowing that although so many friends and family care (and I couldn't survive without their support), there is really no one left that has experienced firsthand the horror story I'm starring in.
We had parent teacher conferences last night at Leah and Hannah's school. We had to bring Lucy, who wet her pants twice and cried to go home. Here's a summary of teacher comments:
HANNAH:
*a natural leader
*most well-liked student
*grades range from 85 (one class) to 93-99 (every other class)
*no missing assignments
*can work with anyone
*reads at a college level, knows the answer to nearly every question
*brings an infectious positive energy to the group
*has a strong interest and understanding of science
*was invited to attend an elite "Farm for City Kids" trip to Vermont in May
*can do 80 pushups
LEAH:
*lowest grade is 90%
*no missing assignments
*placed in a math group for 'strong students'
*will she please make more comments in Biology? Her understanding of DNA replication would really help the other students
*why is she so self-conscious? We can put her in any group and she will always be on task
*Did you know that she wrote a near perfect essay on her experience with toxic beauty standards in Utah?
*We loved her paper on "You Can't Be Feminist and Anti-Abortion At the Same Time". We'd like her to join clubs for writing
*We're going to give her some challenge assignments for advanced students
*I'd like her to consider submitting her writing for teen publication. She is insightful, creative, funny and has a large vocabulary
*can do 6 push ups and recently nicknamed the cat "Labia Minora" (thank you, Health class)
I went home in shock and shame. You would have been so proud of them, Mom. You would have posted something thoughtful on social media. You would have encouraged them more. But I had to admit several times that I have never logged into the school's grading system, I had no clue that Leah wrote a paper on Utah's beauty standards (it's about time someone wrote about it). I didn't know they were excelling in math and science. I don't know what's going on because I'm so tired and grief-stricken. I usually ask if they've done their homework. They usually come to me for help. They always know I love them. But I still went to bed full of guilt that, once again, I've been reminded that I can't do everything. I can't even do a tenth of everything.
And at night, when everyone stops asking for one last hug goodnight, that feeling of dread comes back. Not the PTSD dread, the other one. The one where you know another bomb is going to stop soon and you can't stop it. The one where you know another major change is coming and you have to choose to accept the train wreck and not fight it. But why does it have to involve more change for these girls? They've built a life and a school career for themselves. They love their school, their friends and their church group. Can't we just stay and make it here a little longer?
Did you know that Sean wants to take the house money and invest it in more house money? I tried to tell him about my precarious, ever changing financial situation. Investing in property is a great idea. I guess I wanted to invest in a master's degree and a home music studio, though. Not to mention the fact that I have expensive kids and was hoping for a savings to draw from every time a thing comes up. And things ALWAYS come up. I need some time on this, but there is no time. I wish I didn't feel pushed into it already.
Bye, Mom. Thanks for listening.
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