I should know. I spent eight hours with him last night as he lambasted my skills … or lack thereof.
Julianne Hough was there, too, and she’s no slouch in the whip-cracking department either.
Except I wasn’t dancing.
I was swimming — synchronized style a la Esther Williams — and I suck at it.
Especially when the pool is in a classroom where the neat rows of little kid desks should be, and they’re both perched atop an old fashioned, heavy wooden teacher’s desk, complete with stacks of papers and shiny red apples piled unnaturally high.
Did I mention they were wearing sequins?
It took me a while to figure out I was having one crazy dream, but as my husband’s alarm jerked me out of my less-than-sweet reverie, two things dawned on me: I shouldn’t watch “Dancing With The Stars” right before bed, and I have an unnatural fear of parent/teacher conferences.
Especially when it involves an IEP (Individualized Education Program).
Because the stress is immense.
Normal things like “your kid is boy crazy” or “your social butterfly talks too much in class” (my parents heard those alot) aren’t even on my radar. Hauling two huge binders outlining Gibbs’ latest IEP updates, evaluation refreshes, therapist notes, and most current social stories are, along with remembering to jot down notes as they’re presented by his entire team (the classroom teacher, an aide, two therapists, the school psychologist, two Social Skills teachers, and the vice principal).
Facing Donald Trump for a boardroom showdown might be less intimidating.
And it’s not that I fear hearing the comments my parents used to get at each of my conferences, it’s not hearing them.
Because pegging Gibbs with those “normal” comments would mean he’s making advances as a “typical” child.
That alone would be worth a few extra laps — in the deep end.
What do you want to hear (or not) when you head to your child’s parent/teacher conference?