Lie, Lie Again(18)

Dear Miss McFarlan and Room Fourteen Families,

I’m writing today in response to the letter that was sent home in the children’s Friday folders about the leprechaun trap assignment, and I have some concerns. I’d appreciate it if you’d all weigh in.

I am not comfortable perpetuating this leprechaun lie. I don’t mean to come across as harsh, but do you realize the damage that can be done? If we as parents lie to our children about something that’s allegedly special and magical when they are at such a young and impressionable age, how are they expected to trust us in later years? Our children will find out about the lies one day, whether from another child, a movie, or maybe even a parent who has grown tired of keeping up with the charade. And where does that leave the child? Scared and confused. I strongly urge all of you to respond with your thoughts so we can make an informed decision about this “homework” assignment for our children. Miss McFarlan, I do hope you’ll be open to our feedback.

Sincerely,

Cassandra Trainor

Riki glared at the screen. What the hell? First the Cheerios shaming and now this? She shook her head, wondering why anyone would make a big deal about a little green man.

This was supposed to be a fun project. The kids would bring in their traps on the sixteenth, and the “leprechaun” would leave plastic gold coins and some green glitter on St. Patrick’s Day. He might even turn a few chairs upside down and scatter books across the classroom library. It had always been such a great event at Clover Street Elementary. She scrolled down, surprised to see that all fourteen emails had the same subject line.

Here we go again. How many times would she have to deal with utter nonsense? Thank goodness the end of the school year was nearing. As thrilled as she had been to get the job at Ocean Avenue Academy, one of the finest private schools in Los Angeles, according to their website, she had to admit she missed the public school system. So many parents had been grateful for all she did. But at Ocean Avenue, she couldn’t read a story aloud without someone complaining that the book was too this, too that, or not enough. It was stifling. With a firm tap to her keyboard, she opened the next email.

Hi Room Fourteen Fams,

This is Jennifer Clarke, Payton’s mom, weighing in. I love the idea of the leprechaun traps! It’ll be fun for the kids! They enjoy believing! Sure, they’ll learn the truth one day, but I plan on telling Payton when the time is right. I’ll make sure she understands it’s a fun legend, not some wicked lie I’ve concocted to confuse her. Let’s be realistic about this. There’s Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and a few I’m probably forgetting!

For those of you who are interested, I’ve included some links to Pinterest for some fabulous trap ideas. My vote is to keep the assignment!

All best,

Jenn

Well, thank you, Jenn! Hopefully her enthusiasm and overuse of exclamation points would be contagious. Cassandra Trainor was inching her way to the top of the list of difficult parents. Riki pulled a sheet of paper from the printer and drew a line down the middle with another line crossing perpendicular at the top, forming a large T. On the left, she wrote Sane Parents. On the right, she wrote Crazy Parents. It was mean, but no one would see her list. And seriously, why did Mrs. Trainor have to get so bent? If a parent didn’t want her kid to join in, she could have her skip the assignment. It was second grade, not Harvard.

After logging the first two names in the appropriate columns, she opened the next email.

Dear Miss McFarlan et al.,

Elliott Johanson, Dane’s father, here. It strikes me that Ms. Clarke took a very cavalier attitude toward this serious discussion. Parenting done right takes thought and reflection. It requires time to consider what long-term effects our decisions can have. I, for one, believe Mrs. Trainor makes some valid arguments in favor of dismissing the assignment. Let’s take a moment to weigh the pros and cons. I look forward to hearing additional viewpoints.

Best regards,

Elliott Johanson,

Senior Managing Partner

Johanson and Wolfe, LLP

Riki scrolled to the next email without adding Mr. Johanson to either side. At the moment, he seemed like a neutral party even though he came across as condescending.

By the time she’d finished the next twelve emails—another had come in while she was reading—there were five against, seven for, and three neutrals. Riki laid her head on the table and listened to the falling rain. Could she tell all the parents to shut up and get a life? She chuckled to herself. Probably not. Mr. Johanson would likely set up a conference so he could lecture her. Teaching done right takes thought and reflection, he’d start. Ugh. Maybe she’d call her own parents and get some advice.

The storm grew in strength, recruiting the wind to rough up some trees. She pushed her chair back and stalked to the kitchen. She couldn’t think on an empty stomach. Lunch at school started at 11:48, and by now she couldn’t even remember what her lunch had consisted of.

As she poured a mix of granola and Cookie Crisp into a bowl, it hit her. She’d run out during her lunch break to get an egg sandwich and an iced tea from Starbucks. There hadn’t been time that morning to make her lunch. She added a little extra Cookie Crisp to her bowl and poured milk over it. Cow’s milk. “Here’s to you, Mrs. Trainor,” she uttered before taking the first bite of milk-soaked cereal.

After the jog-a-thon yesterday, she’d talked to the class about food choices and had specifically called on Jeremy to share one of his favorite healthy foods. She’d held her breath as he answered, hopeful it would go well.