It was my turn to drive carpool the other day, and I pulled over to capture this with my cell phone:
It's the view from my kid's school--sparkling water, a sprinkling of yachts, the downtown skyline. You know, pretty much like every other school NOT.
This is the school at which, this semester, the kid's elective class is tightrope walking in the park. The school at which his roller derby-playing, band-member hipster Humanities teacher explained to me that my son is not being lazy and talking too much, but rather "socially maturing" and "fomenting his masterpiece". I know, look it up.
I just walked in on them playing bongos and singing "Don't Stop Believin". With their teacher. I joined in of course, because I am a parent who gets involved.
Yet the kid still occasionally wails that he wishes school had "never been invented".
Oh, you mean that air conditioned fun-factory by the bay that I take you to every day? Yeah. I feel you honey.
When I was his age, I was spending my days in Home Ec, accidentally sewing sleeves on inside-out with a 100-year old sewing machine, while getting regular updates on my breast and butt development from a fat red-headed kid named Brian.
So you know what? Don't get all "I know why the caged bird sings" on me kid. Go foment something why don't you?