Friday is my daughter’s last day of school. We have an insanely short summer here; much shorter than pretty much any elementary school in our state, for no aparent reason except that our administration thinks that everybody has at least one full-time parent or live-in nanny. We also have a weird, weird school year. So.
Eleina (not her real name) has had a wonderful teacher for 3rd grade. If there were kids there that looked like they were getting bored and didn’t have enough to do, she pushed them to do more. Eleina’s writing in particular has really taken off. Her first mom is a wonderful writer, so I’m not too surprised. In fact, most of her accomplishments are things that neither Dad Goth nor I can take any credit for whatsoever. We contributed to her willingness to read fantasy books, but that’s pretty much our only contribution. I’m honestly okay with that.
Anyway. This week marks the annual What Will We Get Our Teacher For the End of the Year dilemma. One of us wants to get her a washcloth and fancy soap, the other thinks she might appreciate a bottle of decent red wine and a bag just as much if not more. Perhaps I have enough time to make both. The washcloths usually go pretty quickly, as will the wine bag (I think). So we’ll see what happens.