Stephen Chukumba says: “Back to school night…ugh!”


With an apple for my teacher 'cause I knew I'd get a kiss. Always got mad, when the class was dismissed. Passing Me By, Pharcyde

With an apple for my teacher 'cause I knew I'd get a kiss. Always got mad, when the class was dismissed. Passing Me By, Pharcyde

The start of every school year inevitably brings about one of the more unpleasant parental rites of passage – back to school night.

I say ‘unpleasant’ because of the rehashed and canned speeches, and the ‘few words’ (read ‘never-ending soliloquies’) that each principal, superintendent, curriculum director and/or school counselor (and it’s usually a torturous combination of them all) force we captive parents to endure.

When the talking heads eventually release us, we’ll scatter like roaches, all vying to get ‘face time’ with the real targets of the evening: our kids’ teachers.

“Thank you for coming out tonight blah, blah, blah…”

I’m sizing up the other parents to figure out who I may have to elbow or shove out of the way to get to classroom 9. I try to stay focused on what’s being said, but invariably the mind wanders.

Hmmm, why’d that guy get up? Is he in Mrs. Carter’s class? Perhaps I should have sat closer to the door.

“And the next thing we’re doing this year, blah, blah, blah…”

Is that Jaime’s mom? She’s a hottie. Duran is definitely getting a playdate with her. Is that her man? What a duck! How’d he bag that?

“Just to piggyback on what Ms. J just said, this year is going to be very exciting, blah, blah, blah…”

Don’t piggyback on what anyone just said! Speak your peace and let us go!

“And this year, the PTA is blah, blah, blah…”

Eww! Some nasty bastard just passed gas! I’ve got to get out of here! Could this torture be any more exquisite?

“One of our primary goals this years is blah, blah, blah…”

I wonder if anyone will notice if I pick my nose. I can definitely feel a boogie up there. I hope no one can see it…but my nostrils are rather prominent…

“Thank you, please head over to your children’s classes.”

There is a God! Second person out the door, first one in the class…wait, where the f*ck did all of you parents come from? Did you skip the speeches? Why I oughtta…

“Welcome to class nine, blah, blah, blah…”

No more speeches! How the hell is my daughter doing? Will she be a Rhodes Scholar? What’s her IQ? What exactly is your teaching methodology? Will she be ready for kindergarten next year? Answers woman! I want answers!

Yeah, my baby girl is only in pre-school. So what? Can’t a brotha be concerned about academic excellence in pre-k?

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Filed under Parenting, Smack talking

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