December 8, 2010 by Marj Hatzell
You know what’s slightly annoying? Recorders. As in the musical instrument. See, in Bug Boy’s school they do this recorder program and you have to send in like $5 or something and the whole third grade learns to play the recorder and it’s all cute and stuff for the concert or whatevs. Except, the paper that comes home asking for the $5 says NOTHING about having to use it in fourth grade. Or fifth grade. You see where this is going, right?
My nephew’s school also has a third grade recorder program. Except the crazy biotches that send their kids to her kid’s school are crazy biotches and every recorder in the tri-state area was SOLD OUT the week he started school so I handed ours over because I figured, well, we don’t need it, right?
Then last week Bug Boy came home and said, “Mom. I’m the only one that didn’t bring in my recorder!” And I was all, “Um. Recorder?” And he was all, “Yeah. I need it for school. We needed to keep them!” And he was all angry with me and stuff because I was BEING NICE and GIVING IT TO HIS TWIN COUSIN. I’m a terrible parent!
So I did what any other mom would do. I got my gorgeous, hand-carved, expensive, beautiful, wooden recorder and handed it over. The one I used to play at church and in weddings and such (I play the flute and piccolo and piano and recorder and the cello for two whole days). The one that costs nearly 5 cheapo school recorders worth. But he can’t use the REAL one. OH NO. It has to be the cheap $5 plastic piece of shiz. Gosh forbid he uses the real GERMAN RECORDER at school. The teacher won’t allow it. It’s slightly off-key.
To which I say to Ms. Music Teacher who annoys the heck out of me, the cheapo plastic ones are off-key. Take that.
And then this morning he reminds me, “Mom. I have music today. I’m going to have to sit there and listen to all of those awful recorders.” UGH. Because he has forgotten it for two weeks and instead of the teacher actually sending home a note or something, she expects a kid with the attention span of a flea to remember it. This is the same kid she used to punish and put out in the hall or make stand in front of class in first or second grade because he wasn’t making eye contact and wasn’t paying attention. YOU KNOW, MY AUTISTIC KID? Yeah. No eye contact. NO SHIZ, SHERLOCK. That’s what autism means! Yeah, apparently no accommodations there. And while I don’t expect special treatment, a normal kid in any other class would have gotten a reminder. Not hers.
And this perfectly illustrates my need for my sleep because I’m getting all bent out of shape about a $5 recorder and I should be, I dunno, worried about world affairs? The economy? My non-verbal, severely autistic child’s future?
Yeah. I need sleep.