Kintropy In Action

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mr. xxx?"

"Yes?"

"This is J. yyy, Gabriel's kindergarten teacher."

It was Monday night, post-dinner.  Gabriel's first day of kindergarten was a week-and-a-half away.  I was caught a little off guard.  Could this be a pre-emptive move to discuss Gabriel's perpetual external dialogue?  Did we miss an entrance exam for public kindergarten:  finger-painting trials or crayon color boot camp, maybe?

"Uh, should I call you J. or Mrs. yyy?"  I stalled for processing time, but managed to come off sounding like a creepy parent's version of teacher's pet.

Pause.  "J. would be fine."  Another pause.  "I wanted to set up a time to meet Gabriel on Wednesday of next week, before class starts Friday.  If you could bring his school supplies, his $10 party fee, and some lunch money if he's going to use school lunches..."

"Wednesday, you said?"  I spun around to check our home nursing calendar affixed to the refrigerator.

"Yes," J. affirmed.  "I would like to meet with Gabriel before school starts to collect everything, do an assessment..."

I knew it.  There was going to be a test!  "Our daughter requires home nursing, so let me check coverage."

"Oh, okay."

"Yes, Wednesday is fine.  We have day nursing after 11am."

"How about 11:30?"

After confirming with Mom that that time would work for her, I relayed the confirmation to J..  Then I had her walk me back through what we were supposed to bring.

"... school supplies ..."

Check - not done.  Gabriel's school supplies list showed up in the mail while Hannah was in the hosptial.  Images of wrestling with parent hordes over composition book dump bins at Fred Meyer bounced through my head.

"... $10 party fee ..."

Was that in cash or check?  How could I contribute to a kiddie kegger?  Were milk boxes supplied or was this strictly BYOB?

"... lunch money..."

"How much should we bring?" I asked.

"Well, depends on whether or not he will eat the school's warm lunches," J. offered.

Hmmm... warm school lunches.  How far had the hybrid meat-soybean burger come since my day?  Would the mashed potatoes still cling to and scorch the roof of one's mouth?

"You know, Gabriel will probably want to try it, but he's a picky eater."

"Oh, okay.  Then maybe just $5 or $10 to get started," J. said.

Soon after, I hung up the phone.  I let Gabriel know his new teacher had called, trying to pump him up further about going to a new school and making new friends.  He's already pretty excited:  I think he seems himself moving on up in the world (hence, the picture).

Me?  I'm sure J. will remember me from our call, for better or worse.  I wonder when that first teacher-parent conference will be?  Maybe Janette, J, and I could meet in the student cafeteria and enjoy a nice, warm lunch together.  Burgers and mashed potatoes, maybe?

-- Dad