What Happens in School, Stays in Schoolamberdoty
As uncertain as I am at times in my chosen career path as a scientist, I am certain of one thing, it was nothing short of divine intervention that I didn’t pursue a career as an FBI agent. Though I dreamed of this often as a mystery novel-devouring kid, it turns out my skills in interrogation leave something to be desired.
It has become a game to me each afternoon when I pick up my son from school to see how much information I can glean from him about his day. It’s a game I lose by any standard. The conversation usually goes something like this:
“What’d you do at school today, Anders?”
“You did nothing all day? Didn’t you learn anything new?”
“I didn’t do anything, mom.”
“Grandma told me that you told her last week you guys learned about the seasons. Can you tell me about that?”
“Mom, I don’t want to talk about it with you.”
(Ouch!) Usually I try this line of questioning again at dinner, but I have a better chance of winning the lottery than getting him to share even a minor detail about the day’s events. I can piece together some of his week through the artwork sent home, notes scribbled in the margins of worksheets from his teacher, and occasionally, if I’m very quiet, I can sneak up on him absent-mindedly singing a song he learned while he plays in his room.
The songs are my favorite. It’s how I learned he can now correctly spell the words red, orange, and black. If he catches me listening he clams up, his cheeks flame, and he huffs, “Stop listening to me!”
I’m not sure when the time of sharing all his secrets with me passed, but I think those days are behind us now.
Anyone else suffering from a school day happenings information black out?