At least Charlie Brown's teacher got to send the kids home.
John and I stay in a constant cycle of lecturing Hannah on the areas she needs to focus on in school, at home, and in life in general, assuming she understands and is moving forward, discovering we were so, so wrong, and then lecturing again. And again. And again. And again. And more agains until I think I'm going to pull my hair out, pull HER hair out, and use all that extra hair to capitalize on our pain by creating something like The Dysfunctional Stepfamily Chia Pet.
When we are in the lecture part of that cycle, she hears the voice of Charlie Brown's teacher. Wawa-wa wawa wa Wa wa-wa. She was failing two classes a few weeks ago, so we started the whole lecture over again: "Hannah, you have to stay on top of your assignments, make sure you check in with your teachers on your progress, ask questions if you don't understand, ask for help from us if you need it, have us quiz you before tests, do the extra credit assignments." Wawa-wa wawa wa Wa wa-wa. Wednesday night, I made the mistake of asking her where she was in her English class, how much she'd been able to bring her grade up, etc. In the course of that conversation, we learned that Hannah had a paper due in two days which. she. had. not. yet. started. And the 80-page reading assignment that preceded said starting of said paper? 20 pages read. Oh, the lecture-y lectures that flew, the hair-pulling, bloody scalp visions that flashed before my eyes; the usual Wawa-wa turned into more of a death screech in Hannah's ears, I think.
Apparently I never attended Stepfamily Behavior 101, because if I had, I would know that all that screeching 1.) does absolutely nothing to make the kid more "responsible", 2.) actually starts the cycle of wawawa-blissful ignorance-horrifying reality-wawawa all over, 3.) results in the parents becoming even MORE involved in the kids' responsibilities. Case in point: Hannah worked for three agonizing hours on her paper last night. What did I do? Watch The Apprentice? Paint my nails? Leaf through the Pottery Barn catalog? Oh, how I wish I had done any of those things. No. I spelled out Hannah's assignment for her, explained the passage SHE HAD PICKED, told her how to structure her paper, and walked through EVERY SINGLE GOD-FORSAKEN PARAGRAPH with her. By the time I realized I had been sucked into this horror, I was so invested that I refused to give up. I'm sick and tired of seeing her crappy grades, and clearly the kid needs help. Plus, I have a degree in English Language & Literature from a prestigious school; I'll be damned if anyone in my household is going to fail English. Hannah knows this. And Hannah TOTALLY SUCKED ME INTO ALL BUT WRITING HER PAPER FOR HER. I think she was saying ridiculous things just to exasperate me so much I would give her a decent thesis: "So, here's my sentence: 'The word dreary is referred to a dark place.' What do you think?" HUH? "Hannah, what does that even mean? Do you mean 'dreary' is referring to a dark place? Do you mean it is used in this passage to refer to a dark place? And furthermore, what's the point? What do you have to SAY about that? What does it have to do with your point about the tone of this passage? You have to write more than that one single nonsense sentence! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, KID - give me that!"
I did resist the urge to write it for her, but I'm pretty sure I needed blood pressure medication by the end of the night. John walked through the kitchen while Hannah was saying, "Here's the summarizing paragaph: 'A good tone word for this passage is cold. The words dreary, glowing, grotesque, and vulgar all have negative connotations, just like the word cold.'" As I was slapping my hand to my forehead with the realization that I was stuck in this situation for at least another hour, I said to him, "Geez, I hope I get a good grade on this paper."
When we are in the lecture part of that cycle, she hears the voice of Charlie Brown's teacher. Wawa-wa wawa wa Wa wa-wa. She was failing two classes a few weeks ago, so we started the whole lecture over again: "Hannah, you have to stay on top of your assignments, make sure you check in with your teachers on your progress, ask questions if you don't understand, ask for help from us if you need it, have us quiz you before tests, do the extra credit assignments." Wawa-wa wawa wa Wa wa-wa. Wednesday night, I made the mistake of asking her where she was in her English class, how much she'd been able to bring her grade up, etc. In the course of that conversation, we learned that Hannah had a paper due in two days which. she. had. not. yet. started. And the 80-page reading assignment that preceded said starting of said paper? 20 pages read. Oh, the lecture-y lectures that flew, the hair-pulling, bloody scalp visions that flashed before my eyes; the usual Wawa-wa turned into more of a death screech in Hannah's ears, I think.
Apparently I never attended Stepfamily Behavior 101, because if I had, I would know that all that screeching 1.) does absolutely nothing to make the kid more "responsible", 2.) actually starts the cycle of wawawa-blissful ignorance-horrifying reality-wawawa all over, 3.) results in the parents becoming even MORE involved in the kids' responsibilities. Case in point: Hannah worked for three agonizing hours on her paper last night. What did I do? Watch The Apprentice? Paint my nails? Leaf through the Pottery Barn catalog? Oh, how I wish I had done any of those things. No. I spelled out Hannah's assignment for her, explained the passage SHE HAD PICKED, told her how to structure her paper, and walked through EVERY SINGLE GOD-FORSAKEN PARAGRAPH with her. By the time I realized I had been sucked into this horror, I was so invested that I refused to give up. I'm sick and tired of seeing her crappy grades, and clearly the kid needs help. Plus, I have a degree in English Language & Literature from a prestigious school; I'll be damned if anyone in my household is going to fail English. Hannah knows this. And Hannah TOTALLY SUCKED ME INTO ALL BUT WRITING HER PAPER FOR HER. I think she was saying ridiculous things just to exasperate me so much I would give her a decent thesis: "So, here's my sentence: 'The word dreary is referred to a dark place.' What do you think?" HUH? "Hannah, what does that even mean? Do you mean 'dreary' is referring to a dark place? Do you mean it is used in this passage to refer to a dark place? And furthermore, what's the point? What do you have to SAY about that? What does it have to do with your point about the tone of this passage? You have to write more than that one single nonsense sentence! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, KID - give me that!"
I did resist the urge to write it for her, but I'm pretty sure I needed blood pressure medication by the end of the night. John walked through the kitchen while Hannah was saying, "Here's the summarizing paragaph: 'A good tone word for this passage is cold. The words dreary, glowing, grotesque, and vulgar all have negative connotations, just like the word cold.'" As I was slapping my hand to my forehead with the realization that I was stuck in this situation for at least another hour, I said to him, "Geez, I hope I get a good grade on this paper."
Labels: blended family realities
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