Charlie’s first report card came in. Not his first report card ever, but his first report card being under my tutelage. One one hand, I’m so thankful that we have a teacher that will objectively assess Charlie’s progress, whereas I would probably waffle between giving him all A’s because he’s my wittle wuvy pie or all D’s because dang-it-you-frickin-kid-you-procrastinate-worse-than-your-mother-and-stop-exhibiting-genetically-linked-or-rightfully-learned-behaviours. But part of me is petrified of the objective assessment because I feel like I’m also being assessed. The child can only go as far as he’s being led; am I doing the best by him? My fingers are chewed to bits with the stress of it all.
When his report card landed in my inbox, I read it and immediately threw my hands over my face and sobbed.
Charlie’s lowest mark was 89%. 89%!!! The LOWEST mark! I am so proud of him. I am so proud of US. I’m mostly proud of him. Charlie has been working really hard: three novel studies, half-way through the math curriculum and knowing all about the human body systems.
With all of our projects floating around, I decided to make a showcase wall:
All I need to become a real teacher is a roll of corrugated border accents.