I’ve been thinking for months about what I was going to say at Frank’s parent teacher conference (For about 158 days, to be exact.)
I would talk about his inability to stop talking.
I might talk about some of the choices he makes while playing at recess.
I might bring up the ketchup down the hair and up and down the arms incident. ("But it looked so COOL.")
I would definitely discuss his, um, well, defiance.
I would surely bring up the various acts of violence he has been promising to commit off and on for about 8 months now.
I might also talk about this, and this, and this and this.
But then, he gave up his sandwich.
And so when he and his parents came into the classroom on Monday morning and his face was beaming with pride as he ran into my arms, all of those thoughts flew into the air like helium balloons escaping out of a window.
I shared his many academic successes, his social successes, his funny antics and the incredible sandwich incident.
Sure, we discussed the fact that he was under the mistaken impression that I “was not the boss of him”, but his parents and I reminded him of a very important fact.
I AM the boss of him; at least for 26 more days.
(But who’s counting?)
