Never doubt the Nazi Stepmother instincts.

We have progress!  Chris worked last night but then came home and started working on the back room again.  At least half of his stuff is out of the living room and he sat down with me to go over this next week's craziness.  He'll be working almost constantly so I'll be back to dinners and dog walks and homework- mine and Ant's.  I told him we would be changing things up this year and while he agreed to my demands, I'm not really sure he knows what he's in for.  His reading test scores are great and his grades are not, which means we can take what's on all my report cards and apply it to him:


Jenny Ant has so much potential, she he just needs to apply herself himself.

Math grades are okay, but his test scores are barely meeting standards.  I want him to be completely proficient in everything they're doing because math only gets harder and I don't want that to keep him from pursuing science or engineering later on.  I told him we would be doing Jenny homework whether or not there was school homework.  We will also be reading.  He will be working in the room with me to limit distractions.  Nazi stepmothering or not, he will have a solid base to work from later on.

Besides, it was my Nazi stepmother instincts that brought me to the school yesterday to try and meet his teacher and get the school supply list.  Ant won't even be back until Monday so he'll miss the first day, so I thought I'd try to catch him up as much as possible.  I was a little thrown to see that the construction is still going on.  They do not look ready.  I found some people unpacking files from boxes (!) in the nurse's office and was sent on a wild goose chase to find the enrollment guy.  He asked what grade Ant was in.

"Sixth."  Oh my god, is that right?  That can't be right.  No, I'm pretty sure that's right.  Let's see, we put him in 2nd when he got here, that was 2007... 


He couldn't find Ant's name and I thought Oh my god, I'm a bad parent.  I don't even know what grade he's in!


I confirmed spelling twice and Ant was not on the sixth grade list.

"Did you return the enrollment package that was sent home last year?" he asked.

Say it with me: "What enrollment package?"

I can only return it if it came to me in the first place!  You mean you sent something that important home with a 12-year-old?  Your delivery system is FAULTY!

ANT IS NOT ENROLLED IN SCHOOL!!!

Good grief.  I am led to one of the trailer classrooms to fill out paperwork.  The room contains 2 teachers trying to transform the mess into a classroom.  I called Chris to relay the news and ask for Ant's birth city.

"He's in sixth, right?" I murmured.

"Yes."

Oh, good.  Let me continue with my outrage.

It doesn't matter that he went to that school last year, he has to enroll again!  How am I supposed to know these things!  Isn't there some kind of checklist for this?

"Oh, Anthony, you haven't returned your enrollment package.  Take this note home to your parents and return it signed tomorrow."

Instead of metal detectors at my front door I need important paperwork detectors!  I will have to check his bag before he can come in the house!  I will have a stick to rifle through his belongings.

"Excuse me sir, but what is this?"

I finish the paperwork and the enrollment guy asked if I was aware of the uniform policy.

UNIFORMS!

"The last thing I saw was the vote!  I didn't know what uniforms had been decided on, or even that uniforms had been decided on!"  Your delivery system is FAULTY!


This is when one of the teachers came over to introduce herself as the Parent Involvement Coordinator.  I asked if that was for parents to volunteer or involvement with their own children.

"Both," she said.

"Sign me up."

Monday is going to be ridiculous.  Go to school, come to the school to find out what teacher he has, get the school supply list, buy a uniform shirt, pick Ant up from the airport, take him to buy school supplies, take him to find khakis or dark blue pants, (Khakis!?!  Are they insane?  We'll get him dark blue Dickies.) bring him home, take care of the dogs, make sure he unpacks, make dinner, and at some point do my homework.

Tuesday will likely be laundromat.  Oh my god, uniforms mean doing laundry more often.  Sigh.  This is going to be a busy year.