First, an update on the uterus:  I weighed the factors of ‘perhaps I dream in opposites,’ ‘perhaps my lack of PMS symptoms is a symptom’, and ‘that girl on the crazy shitload-of-smilies message board that I lurk on got her BFP! two days ago and she has the same cycle as me’ and tested this am to decided single line.  No shadow, or hint, or anything. Just a long field of crystal clear whiteness and the dark pink streak of the contol line.  So, on to next month, where I won’t be doing anything beyond screwing every other fucking day for the entire month. Dave is on board, which is good, because I’d really like the every-other-day plan to include him.  Anyway. You can all take your candles and go back to work tomorrow, and your complimentary gift for attending the vigil will be in the mail.

THE OTHER STORY:

Dave pointed this story out to me this morning that he saw on yahoo news: Principals’ Freaked Out by Students Dance, Dress.  It was of note because of a recent dilemma I had as the sponsor of the first school dance.

One of the 7th graders was dancing to Christina Aguilera’s ‘Dirty’ in a very X-Tina way. She dropped to her knees, leaned back and shook her still-developing boobs. Whoa.  Compounding the situation was that this kid was the daughter of one of our regular subs.  She works almost every day, and has worked in my room, and I consider her my friend as we hang out outside of school sometimes.  I asked Amy, mom of an almost-middle-schooler, what I should do. "GRETCHEN, you need to TELL HER."  So, I did. 

It prompted an interesting discussion at school, but Robyn was genuinely appreciative of the heads-up.  She didn’t tell her daughter who told on her, but she and her husband had a long discussion with the kid.  She asked the girl to show her how she was dancing, and Robyn and her husband were horrified.  "Thank GOD you were wearing jeans," is what the husband said, and in true impulsive middle schooler fashion, the daughter scoffed "I wasn’t wearing JEANS, I was wearing Sam’s miniskirt."

Yeah. That didn’t help her case.

I went out with Robyn the day after, Tuesday night, and we ended up getting in to a bug conversation about ‘Kids Today" and what was their deal, anyway? It came around to fashion, and I told her that maybe why I was compelled to give her the headsup was BECAUSE her kid was in a short skirt.  In jeans, it might have been different.  We then talked about the fashions of today, and how when we were in middle school to have skin showing was just a travesty — we wore longsleeved rugby shirts, jeans rolled at the ankles with several pairs of socks rising to meet the tucked-and-rolled cuff.  To have ankle showing would not have been cool.  We had hammer pants — pants with extra fabric and we had sweaters that came down to our knees.  And dancing, if you could do the Roger Rabbit, that was as extreme as you got.  And, face it, the RR is just not erotic at all.

The conversation then wound around to touching kids at school. No, not that way, but that’s what you thought, isn’t it?  When we were in school, getting a hug froma teacher, or a pat on the back or a shoulder squeeze was commonplace.  If I touch my kids in anyway other than a high-five, I immediately apologize to them, and think "Fuck!" in my head. (Uh, Fuck as in "That was not cool" not as in "Me, now!")  Robyn, who subs across the grade levels and subjects, has said the same thing.  We can’t let the kids touch each other, because it might be harrassment.  "Hands off, guys!" is something I say all. the. time.  You just don’t touch each other in public schools.

"So," I wondered out loud, "do you think the change in fashion is at all related to the change in how we treat kids? As a society, I mean, you don’t touch a kid unless they are direct relation to you, you know? So maybe kids are evolving to get that attention from adults in another way — visually."

It’s something to think about, isn’t it?

Either way, the outcome of Robyn’s situation is that she is chaperoning the next dance, just to make sure her daughter wears the approved outfit (she pulled the old "i’m wearing this out the door and then changing at my friend’s house!") and conducting herself in an appropriate manner.