Sunday, November 25, 2007

    Tzarina on the playground

    Since leaving the road (my last project was brutal in the travel), I have been able to spend a lot more time at Pookie's school. I take her in, take her lunch and then pick her up. At lunch, I sit with her and discuss her morning, talk with the other kids or generally stay out of the way if she is otherwise engaged.

    I then wander outside for the recess. One of the reasons we left the catholic school was because Pookie suffered a concussion on the playground and no adult knew about it. We only found out when she began vomiting after getting picked up after school (it happened during afternoon recess). We found it deplorable that no adult either saw the incident, saw Pookie crying behind a tree, or otherwise followed-up. When we called, the principal (herafter known as Czarina) was asked, she confused Pookie with a girl who had scraped her knee. She then argued that Pookie wasn't really sick suggesting we bring in proof of injuries. Czarina had some issues.

    So, playground duty is important to us. At New School (hereafter called Evangeli-U), a Lutherine evangelical school with way too many happy Jesus zealots, the playground arrangement isn't much better: one parent on duty. With at least three grades at a time, there are a lot of kids to watch for only one person. We are concerned.

    I provide that background in order to tell the story of Fascist Mom. FM brooked no fun at recess. It was drizzly that day, so no climbing on the monkey-bars. Swings had to go in a straight line only, no tackling by the boys, and perhaps the merry-go-round was too much as well. She spent the whole time literally running from one end to the other running down playing kids to warn them of impending doom.

    Then, we we lined up to go in (a bell I thought would never ring), she proceeded to ask if an assembly was necessary in order to go over the rules. Shocked, the kids stayed mum. Because of one spitter, the rest were warned of the low-class, evil nature of spitting out of doors. Also, there would be no tackling (even though I thought that the offending tackle was well done, with slow speed on wood chips), no wet-monkey-bar climbing and no off-line swinging. And then she said: "and there should be no screaming."

    Seems that she felt that screaming (the kind a kid does when being chased, feels happy or otherwise does once outdoors) should be reserved for those times a bad person was around. Otherwise, adults might not know when there is danger. Also, if one is to scream, then one should do it in a low voice, so that it stands out from the playful screams (which they weren't supposed to do either).

    I have only seen her on the playground once. It was once too many.

    Would you like me to read this to you? Listen