Have you ever had one of those nightmares where whatever happens, there are these automatons like something straight from a sci-fi horror film, devoid of any humanity, who keep saying to you: “SORRY-IT’S-SCHOOL-POLICY.”?
Well, I seemed to find myself in one yesterday. After having to change one of those delightful last-minute poos courtesy of Tiddles McGee, I set off for the school already slightly late in the rainy-day traffic, faced the Bitch Fight Plus over parking, finally found a spot, changed The Pixie’s shoes for gumboots because she didn’t want to get her feet wet and then put everyone’s raincoats on. Then we sprinted through the rain to the classroom, arriving out of breath and decidedly soggy a grand total of five minutes after the bell.
“Are we okay?” I asked hopefully, with the kind of face that Mr Justice likes to sport when he really ruly wants me to let him go on the computer to shoot aliens.
The teacher immediately glanced at the clock and said “Well… No. Sorry. You’ll have to get a Late Pass.”
It was her hesitation that was like a punch in the stomach. “Come on!” I found myself saying. “We’re only five minutes late! Give me a break! Have you seen what the parking is like out there?”
And then, pointing out the window with dramatic effect: “It’s raining!”
“Sorry, it’s school policy. I’ve just got to follow the rules,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders as if to say “What’s a teacher who’s an absolute stickler for those rules to do?”.
“I do realise that,” I replied, my tone perhaps a little more forceful than it should have been. “But I’m going to bring it up with Brett because I’m quite frankly Not Happy with that policy. It shames my child! And it shames me!”
At which point, she actually let us off. And I might have just slunk back to my car to lick my wounds, except that another teacher appeared and helpfully threw fuel onto the fire by asking me, in an ever-so-very-slightly patronising tone, to go to the principal’s office as it was “inappropriate” for me to be talking like this in front of the children because I might be “making them scared”.
Way to go, lady! All she had to do was recognise that I was a Woman on the Edge and maybe say “Hey, having a bad day? Come over to the office and let’s talk about it over a cup of tea and a Milk Arrowroot?” but nooooooooo. She had to further chastise me.
Now, I’d like to be able to say that I then said “Don’t make me angry… You won’t like me when I’m angry!!” shortly before my skin turned green and all my clothes ripped off and I went running through the school tipping over rubbish bins. But no, instead I became the Incredibly Pathetic Crying Lady, a lesser known Marvel Comics superhero.
At which point, the teacher threw in a “Sorry, it’s school policy” just to really get the boot in.
I made my way, head bowed and, with the call of “Late Woman Walking! Late Woman Walking Here!” all around me, I went to the School Office. There, I found myself sobbing (still pathetically) in front of a bunch of strangers, demanding (in between sobs) to see Brett to tell him I was a victim of A Terrible Injustice in the form of a Green Slip of Paper That I Simply Didn’t Deserve.
But rather than have the doors to Brett’s office opening to reveal him there with a lovely cup of tea patting a comfy chair for me to come sit with him and have a heart-to-heart, I was told that he was “in meetings all day”. And then given the “Sorry, it’s School Policy” line AGAIN which just made me want to shout “Is it school policy to say ‘Sorry, it’s school policy?'”. But since I was already crying, any impact that line might have had would have been completely lost so I just said “Blaththbabbllllaaaaaaa (sniff)” instead, wrote my name and telephone number down for somebody to ring me later, and left with the younger children in tow.
A few hours later, after a phonecall from the Vice Principal where the “Sorry, it’s school policy” line was predictably dragged out again, I decided on my own Late Pass Policy from this day forth. The next time we’re running even slightly late, I’m not going to risk busting a gut to get my child to his class on time, only to be turned away at the door. Oh, no. Not I. Instead I’ll switch on ABC Kids for the kids while I pour myself a second coffee, and then, at about 9:30am, I’ll drive to the school, get a park right outside the gate, totally skip the usual morning rush for late passes at the office and be seen to immediately by less stressed staff, and deliver my child to his class with a smile and with green slip in hand. Same result but no rushing! No shaming! No problem!
Somehow, I don’t think that’s what the founders of the School Policy had in mind when they wrote it, but that’s what it’s come to. If they’re not going to cut me some slack, I’m just going to have to cut myself some. And when they ask me why my child is so late so often, I’m going to say “Sorry, It’s My Policy.” Just. Watch. Me.
GO NDM! I love your belligerant response. Rock their petty little rule!
That sounds so much more humane. I applaud you.
Considerably preferable to smacking the teacher in the chops which would be my immediate response. I am still itching to wallop her one on your behalf if you should ever need!- ‘Mother of three’ solidarity and all that!
You know it’s just so sad that you have to go to these measures. When it’s raining out. they should cut you some slack and not to patronize you. Really? Like mothering isn’t hard enough.
Hello NMD, I’m a long time silent follower (and big time fan) of your blog but felt compelled to speak out about this injustice. On behalf of teachers everywhere I’d like to apologise for the lack of compassion shown by the staff at your son’s school. We’re not all like that and I applaud your determination to fight the power!
Need a lawyer?
They are such NAZIS!!!!!!!!!!!!! I would not last a day in that place.
I’ve always admired the understated strength of Incredibly Pathetic Crying Lady.
Plus, she has the coolest costume ever.
Fight the power! Take ’em out!
What a pack of small-minded, bureaucratic idiotpoobumloserdickheadfacistbastardshit-for-brainsfucksticks.
It felt like I was reliving every little bit of your painful journey there NDM. But, if I’m honest, I must admit that part of me felt just the tinsiest bit of glee when I read about your tears because yes, as I mentioned quite some time ago in response to another school lateness episode, I too blubbed away in front of a teacher over the very same issue. Yay, I’m not alone! But don’t be fooled folks, us Incredibly Pathetic Crying Ladies are a force to be reckoned with.
Hopefully, if the script goes to plan like it did for me, from now on the school facistas will indeed cut you heaps of slack because you will now be branded as a Blubbering Freakazoid and they’ll be too scared to tell you off again, ever. Does that make you feel better?
Why not make it a standard policy to arrive half an hour late EVERY day, and take the pressure off? You’ll be happier, and I reckon the kids won’t mind…!
If the school gets stressed about this, just get them to give you an accurate accounting of all the schooling you ‘missed’ by being half an hour later. They’ll probably be hard pressed to make it amount to much.
I like your plan NDM.
You are walking an honourable road, following in the footsteps of passive resistantists (and no I don’t care if that’s not really a word) that have taken the hard steps before you.
The winds of change are a-blowing…..
Well anything is better than the stress of rushing to meet some other person’s requirement. It sounds intolerable.
The late pass policy is probably set by the Superintendent of Schools for your district, so the teachers may fear they will get fired if they don’t uphold it. Most likely the Super made the policy. Either way, rushing on a rainy morning is bad for you, so perhaps being late is safer? With all their hissing and spitting what can they really do to you? What are the actual consequences of being late?
Maybe you are the only one who sees what they are doing, or maybe the other parents are too scared to say anything.
My Mother always liked teaching Montessori.
Oh NDM, wipe away those tears.
Next time you drop off the kinder, whatever time that is, announce loudly to all within shouting distance ” sorry we are late, I was just having the MOST FANTASTIC SEX with my husband ( or, if you are feeling brave say ‘client’) and I totally lost track of the time”
“My God” you will say, ” I was coming so hard and so often I thought the neighbors were going to call the police. Thank god the kids are so used to hearing it they sleep right through it.”
Then hand over your green slip, and announce brightly
” Well, can’t stop, I have to go and get a manicure, then have lunch with the girls. Enjoy your day with the kids” and flounce out.
Name the school, [NDM].
Shame it publicly!
Way to go NDM. ABC kids it is.
I have the opposite problem if it’s any consolation. My daughter goes to an independent school based on ideas about collaborative and nature based learning. It’s fabulous, mostly, but: her class is supposed to start at 8.50 in the morning, yet I’ve sometimes arrived after that time and still been the first one there. Most parents wander in with their kids some time before 9.20. I can’t say I have Late Pass envy, but a little more clarity about when school actually starts would sometimes be handy.
I’m with Wendy H. Particularly like the suggested parting line ‘Enjoy your day with the kids’. Nice.
Failing that, I would continue to explore the more surreal side of late pass reasons – be it the aforementioned kindy mums’ dance off, the childrens’ mani-pedi session overrunning, or icing a boob cake or two.
PS I am a huge fan of the Incredibly Pathetic Crying Lady. Long may she resist the tyranny of small minded school officials and give all other ‘slightly tearful at times’ mothers a sense of solidarity. We will weep the bastards into submission, godammit.
I am so glad I swallowed my sip of vitamin water BEFORE I read Wendy’s comment. It would have come out my nose.
I like it and I think it would shut them up permanently!
But if that’s just too hard to blurt out with a straight face (I mean, seriously, we have kids… how often does sex like that happen and I bet those teachers know it), I think the leisurely stroll into school is the best answer.
I, too, am one of the legion of the Incredibly Pathetic Crying Ladies… and damn proud of it!