Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Dear Attendance Office


              Never sick, eh? 

I thought we were all clapped out after the eldest's graduation, but last night, hubby and I clapped our way through Senior Awards Night.  We applauded mostly for other people's offspring, and it left me some-what bitter, watching all the uber-smarties parade by, the highly-accomplished, the freaks of nature with perfect attendance records since fourth grade.

Frankly, I didn't buy it, and once again, expressed my misgivings, inappropriately.  Sometimes, I just can't help myself.  Was it wrong of me to stand up, mid-ceremony, and demand medical proof that these healthy specimens never got sick in nine years?  I didn't think so at the time, but based on the outpouring of hostility, the slashed tires, the nasty rumblings in the room -- "Who's the drunk lady in the front row?" "Sit your ass down!"  "Jealous much?" -- and the fact that I've been banned from tomorrow's graduation, has raised some doubts.  I'm having second thoughts about my behavior.

Did I react poorly because the only attendance award my son deserved was for Best Excuse?  Sadly, there was no embossed certificate for that particular feat. Oh, it pains me to tell you this, but throughout senior year, I knowingly tampered with the laws of kina hora on numerous occasions:  "Dear Attendance Office, please excuse Scotty for missing school.  He was ill."  Actually, he wasn't.  He was tired and knew how to work his mother.  Or take last Friday's heartfelt plea:  "Dear Attendance Office, please excuse Scotty for missing school.  He wasn't feeling well."  Actually, he was feeling just fine, stretched out on the sofa, eating donuts as he watched the World Cup.

At some point, there will be payback for those feigned illnessess, I'm sure.  Someone's going to wake up with a raging cold, and it will probably be me -- punishment for my shameful lack of judgment.  In the meantime, I'm hoping the fat check I slipped the principal last night, right before he shoved me out the door, will buy me a seat at graduation.  Haven't I earned the right to clap for my boy?  I'll keep my mouth shut, I promise.  Unless the valedictorian's speech goes on too long, in which case, I may make a suggestion.  Something like: "Get off the stage!"  Too harsh?

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