And This, My Friends, Is What My Kid's Teacher Will See Tomorrow

The X-Man had a writing assignment this week. It seemed harmless enough; he was supposed to write an article about Eleanor Roosevelt for his school paper, "The Straight Scoop." This is what he wrote:

In spite of the fact that I try to be a good parent, this stuff happens. I blame Mary Winget, who penned the book (so lovingly bought, by me, because I care about his academic success. Did I look at it first? Of course not!) I'm honest with my children; I'll talk about anything, including the reason we won't join the country club that (still!) doesn't admit people of color and the reason we won't let them be Boy Scouts (Homophobia irks me).

I'm glad the author presented the whole picture, but I wish she had made this one little part less interesting. The information about Eleanor's dear old dad's alcoholism was found in a chapter called "Poor Little Rich Girl," which implies some jealousy on the part of the author. Or maybe not. I'm just looking for someone to blame for my children's ability to weed out the most embarrassing thing in any piece of writing. Perhaps I need to temper my honesty. I have this totally unused Masters degree in Social Work that makes me just a little bit too honest about social injustice, sex and misery. In fact, all of my overtly liberal, unused education does. So, what's an over-educated, under-employed girl mother to do?

This paper is getting handed in in the morning, because I refuse to censor my first grader. And I was too lazy to talk him into writing another one. It's my fault, really. I was the one who told him to read the book first and write about whatever stuck out in his mind. As it happens, I have a conference with his teacher scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. Should be interesting. Thank you, Mary Winget!

Namasté, y'all!