Five days ago a yellow file folder with instructions arrived in my granddaughter’s back pack. “ . . . please list favorite foods, siblings, family, television shows, sports, toys, and other life details.”
The instructions continued with request to include stickers and photographs, with captions, as well as ‘sometime next week’ for the deadline. The message concluded with the news that the folder would be laminated and kept with each child until the end of the year.
What was not listed was whether or not the photos and captions were to be glued onto the yellow folder at home; or, at school. By the parents, grandparent, or the child.
This is when three decades of my life melted and i returned to that parental ‘I’ll see to it that my child is the best in the class but must make it look like she did it, not a grownup.”
Overthinking took its toll. This morning, my granddaughter melted into tears when she looked at the folder her mother and I had tried to help construct.
“NO! The pictures are not supposed to be on the front. It’s ruined!”
I had to [once again] enter the classroom and approach the teacher with that “Sorry to bother you, but we’re having a crisis” opening line. Mrs. Rutherford knows that the crisis is a singular one.
“It’s all right. Several folders have pictures on the front,” she said. I requested that she repeat it for my granddaughter. The buzzer sounded and everyone had 15 seconds to get on their squares.
The squares were too small for my big ego.