Hang on for possibly (probably? hopefully!) the last "school story" of this academic year. But first, let me provide a quick smidge of background. (Naturally. What, you thought you could escape it? Hah! You really should know better by now...) Growing up, I was what you'd call a...dedicated student. Hard worker, teacher-pleaser, trouble-avoider all described me to a T. (Okay, I was a total brown-nosing, top-grade-getting...dweeb. There, ya happy?) I can't remember a time in all my years of education when I did anything objectionable enough to require discipline, much less earn myself a trip to the Principal's Office. In fact, the very idea struck deep dread into my little student heart and kept me firmly on the straight and narrow. (In retrospect, I don't know exactly why I feared Administrators so much--they always were kindly, sympathetic people. What did I expect them to do to rule-breakers, hold them down and force-feed them cafeteria food? Whack their fingers with textbooks? Oh wait, this was public school, so that was strictly forbidden...I guess I just had a vivid (if erroneous) mental picture of the torture I would endure, enough to deter me from pursuing a life of rebellious behavior...)
Nowadays, as I recently became aware, things run a bit differently in the halls of learning. Take my juvenile delinquent son Derek, for example. As I leafed through his binder the other day looking for papers addressed to Parent (which he often neglects to give me, hence the Search and Retrieve Operation), I happened upon an incriminating little half-sheet of paper--right in front, no attempt to hide it at all--with the title "Lunch Detention". "Um...precious son of mine? Would you mind explaining this to me?" I calmly but sternly requested...as I fixed him with my most potent Mom Glare. He at least had the presence of mind to turn ever-so-slightly pink when confronted with this evidence of his (supposed) nefarious activity. Here's how he described the incident, which occurred in Study Hall:
"Well, our friend Meg got placed in Algebra for next year, and when Alan heard that, he didn't know what it meant. So he said, 'Al...what? Altoids? Aren't those what our bus driver has with him on the dashboard?' And I said to him, 'Not Altoids, you dork, Algebra!' That's when we got Lunch Detention."
I tried to maintain my disapproval by continuing to stare him down mercilessly...but I just couldn't. A snicker escaped me as I asked in disbelief, "That's what counts as 'excessive talking' these days?" (That was the explanatory box checked on the slip. I guess they didn't have a write-in option for "excessive gooberheadedness" or better yet "being 12-year old boys"). Knowing he was off the hook (and almost disturbingly unabashed by all aspects of it--his Study Hall foul, his punishment, and his getting nabbed by Mom) he grinned back at me...and breezily admitted that this is, in fact, NOT the first time he's been slapped with Lunch Detention...for "excessive talking". And what, no phone call home? No holding the threat of Parental Retribution over kids' heads to keep them in line? Jeesh! So what did I learn from this charming experience? Well, I guess these days, it takes more of a serious screw-up to trigger the truly Dire Consequences. And also it seems that "what happens in Middle School, stays in Middle School!" (Unless you check the backpack!)
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