Velcrometer
Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
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M. Giant's Velcrometer Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks |
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Saturday, January 13, 2007 Class Struggle I'm a little bummed this morning, because M. Small is going to his first official "class" in anything. Trash is bringing him, along with Bitter, and I have to stay home and write. I've got at least 33 recaps and a book due over the next seven months, so Trash is making that possible logistically. I'm just glad he's not taking a fencing class or something. Trash found this class for preschoolers in the local community education catalog. I haven't seen the official description, but according to Trash, it's more or less some kind of "movement" class. "I don't think he really needs a class in movement," I told her that night when we were lying in bed, exhausted from chasing him around the house all day. Trash made some noises about how it's good for him to get into some kind of organized activity outside of day care, and how it'll be good for them to get out of the house regularly on weekends (the fact that the first session happens to be the coldest day of the year is just an unexpected perk). And it's not like the class is all that demanding. Trash said it sounds a lot like toddlers marching around a big room with their parents, waving scarves and stuff. M. Small has already got a head start on this; as the entire staff and the single other customer of a Richfield McDonald's can tell you, he spent the majority of a Tuesday night visit stomping around the dining room going "March, march, march, march." Dude has marching down. Adding the scarves shouldn't raise the difficulty level too much. This all makes sense to me, and I'm all for it. I just don't see why I don't get to come along. "Quit pretending you want to be there," Trash laughed. "Okay, maybe not every week, but I want to see what it's like." "Whatever." "At least bring the video camera." "Shut up." This morning, getting him ready, she dressed him up in a turtleneck, a sweater, and dark blue chinos. "Isn't he going to a movement class?" I wondered to myself. "Shouldn't he be wearing, like, a tank top and yoga pants? Maybe some leg warmers?" But she's the mom, so she knows what she's doing. Besides, I have to stay home and work on my book, so I don't really get a vote. UPDATE: Trash just called from the car and gave her review of the experience: "Not unbearable at all." She said that M. Small didn't really listen to directions, but it didn't really matter because none of the other three boys did either. The eight to ten girls, on the other hand, followed directions to the letter, swirling around the center of the room as if segments of some hive mind. It also turned out that Trash was right about the dress code; all the other boys were dressed just like M. Small, while all the girls were dressed up like little ballerinas. I guess another benefit of this class is to help him further socialize traditional gender roles, which is something we have admittedly been slacking off on. This just makes me wish even more that I had video. I think I'm just going to have to crash the class one of these weeks. posted by M. Giant 9:29 AM 0 comments 0 Comments:
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