I spent 3 long days with teenagers and middle-schoolers. I could really hit publish after that sentence, because it seems pretty self-explanatory to me. If you’ve ever been subjected to the company of teenagers and pre-teens, then you’ll understand. Throw in a few bad parents, very little sleep, narcotics, pain and crappy weather and you’ve got the last 3 days of my life in a nutshell. Don’t be jealous. I’d be happy to share the love.
***DISCLAIMER*** The vast majority of the kids I subject myself to voluntarily. They are wonderful, and I LOVE being a band mom. But that makes for a much less interesting blog, don’t you think? If you want snarky, this is where you come to hang out. If you want happy sunshiny unicorns and rainbows, I can give you some names (not really).
My theme for the weekend (and coincidentally this blog) is that the word “entitlement” should be a curse word. One of my biggest pet peeves are probably with people who think that rules don’t apply to them.
Of course, as I write this, I look down and see the “Think It Over” note man-child brought home from school today from his teacher. In Kindergarten, these notes were called “I Made A Bad Choice”. Someone somewhere probably wrote a book about how putting the word “bad” in the title gives kids low self-esteem or something, so this year it’s the “Think It Over” note. For the record, the sh*t eating grin my son sported when presenting us with these notes belied any distress over the word “bad”…but whatever.
THINK IT OVER
Today at school I…interrupted the teacher when giving directions
Next time I will…listen and follow directions the 1st time
Don’t think the irony is lost on me that I’m about to blog about “entitlement”, and how some people think rules are arbitrary.
I love when I ask a kid to do something, and I encounter the blank stare. This is only slightly less frustrating and infuriating than the disdainful head nod/hair toss. My personal favorite is the “Bieber” hair toss from the boys. These high school kids are cramming 40+ on a bus with their uniforms, shakos (band hats) and in some cases, instruments. Sorry you have no friends, Billy (not a real name…well it could be but not for this example), but there isn’t enough room on this bus for you to get a bench to yourself.
I say (nicely): “We need to make room for everyone, those of you sitting alone, need to double up please.”
I say (still nicely with an edge and slightly louder): “Yes, if you are sitting by yourself then I am talking to you.” I pointedly make eye contact with several boys.
I say (not at all nicely and fully loaded with sarcasm while looking directly at the boy I’m most annoyed with as he is sitting right in front of me): “You. You see me looking at you? Yeah. You. MOVE.”
He says: “what?”
Is he kidding me? My mouth literally popped open and hung there swinging in the wind of my disbelief. I couldn’t even sputter a response. Completely dumbfounded. Best part, he still didn’t move. Kill. Me. Now.
The only thing worse than a kid with a sense of entitlement and selective hearing is an adult loaded down with these traits. I was in charge of the medical kit, so that left me to guard the stands and wave off anyone trying to sit in the band section. I’d rather have a root canal while getting a brazilian wax on a roller coaster with a million screaming kids than have this job ever again. What made it worse was that it was Middle School band night. All the feeder schools come and hang out with the High School Marching Band, it’s a recruiting night of sorts. So, imagine stands full of 6th, 7th and 8th graders alongside 11th and 12th graders (our high schools are 2 year schools only). Oh and all of them with instruments. Yay me, pass the Advil. The whole bottle.
Me (the whole night):
- I’m sorry you can’t sit here, band only
- That’s great you were in a band 20 years ago, but you still can’t sit here.
- Yes, little Suzy is adorable, and she’ll be fine. You don’t need to sit here, please sit in the parent section.
- No problem, I didn’t need that foot you just stepped on to take the 1000th photo of your amazing prodigy.
- Please don’t step on the seat covers.
- Those seat covers cost a lot of money, can you please not step on them with your shoes.
- Yeah, I wasn’t the genius who picked out the WHITE uniforms our band kids wear, but the EXPENSIVE SEAT COVERS protect their precious bibbers from dirt and grime so PLEASE DON’T STEP ON THEM WITH YOUR GRIMY LITTLE SHOES!
- What is that? Yeah, that? Shoes? WHY ARE THEY ON THE SEAT COVER? I’ve asked you 3 times. Yeah, you. I was over here like 2 seconds ago.
- Could you please spread the word among your band kids to please not put their shoes on the seat covers (to the band directors and parent volunteers)? Yes. Now. (no wait till after they leave and then lecture them! WTH!)
- Yes, I know there is a space there for you to sit, but that’s because the kids are on the field. You know, performing. So you may not sit there, this is the band section.
- That seat is not an optical illusion and I’m pretty sure you couldn’t squeeze in there to be closer to your child (I didn’t actually say this, but thought it many times).
- Oh wow, flash in the eye. Awesome. Blind was just the look I was going for tonight.
- Don’t touch someone else’s instrument. Why? WHY? (I perfected the art of the incredulous look this night).
- Those shako boxes you are kicking over mindlessly contain personal items and cell phones, so could you watch where you are walking. NO, DON’T WALK ON THE SEAT COVERS AS AN ALTERNATIVE!
- I see you. You can’t sneak past me. I’M RIGHT HERE.
- Oh, YOU know the Band Director. Why didn’t you say so!
- No, you can’t bring those nachos and large soda anywhere near our white uniforms or seat covers.
- I’ve got my eye on you.
- I hate you all.
- Especially you.
To cap off my weekend, my son informed me this morning of the following:
“I was born to be spoiled.”
Yeah. Pretty sure my one goal in life to NOT raise a$$holes has ended in epic failure. Please tell me there is still time to turn this around.
I’m off to stuff my face with pizza and cry in my beer.
I’m not checking for spelling or grammatical errors either. It’s THAT time of the month, and I’m taking drugs for the pain in my stupid elbow. I’m lucky I’m still upright.
If you’re still here, bring me another beer. And more pizza.
Because I can be polite and grateful!
You made it.
The end. (this did say “then end” and I couldn’t stand it, so I corrected it, but all other errors stand as they are!)