In an act of rare wisdom, the daughter and I bought ourselves matching boots. We squealed uncharacteristically in the store and paraded in front of the distraught husband (Don’t ask me why, but the husband always looks distraught while shopping. He has a lost, resigned look that we don’t like, two minutes into entering a store. After that, it is all downhill, unless there is a stop at the food court involved.)
The shining boots came home and occupied positions of honor on our shoe shelf. The daughter was found peeking at her boots discreetly every few hours. The next morning, we were running late for school and the daughter in her usual manner dismissed all panic by saying it was only 8:09 a.m. and there were still two minutes in which to linger about the home. ( “We will even have time to show my friends the new boots if we leave at 8:11 a.m. Appa – relax!” After all, what is a post about the daughter without one of her quips?)
Turns out, there was a bathroom emergency involving the still-being-potty-training-toddler in the house just then. We looked at the right clock and it was 8:13 a.m. Now, we looked like ducks running around looking for their chicken feathers. The daughter screamed that she would put her shoes on in the car and charged with her boots into the car. I flung the school bag after her. The lunch box was caught mid-air, the homework bowled into open windows and the car left for school with heads hanging out the window screaming to one another to have a good day. The drama I tell you.
It was probably an hour later, when I was taking out my own boots, that things looked odd. The shoes looked too right. I mean two right. I mean, there were two right boots gleaming at me from the shoe shelf. Two right shoes of different sizes.
I don’t think there is any point in saying anything or trying to explain, so I moaned a low, hollow groan and picked them up to inspect. I tried to say that she deserved it for being a smart boot, but did not have the heart. How was the child supposed to manage with her right foot in a larger left shaped boot the whole day?
So, off I went to the School office armed with a pair of sneakers and the strangest request I’ve ever made of authority figures.
I walked into the School office and said, “I am sorry, this may sound strange, but my daughter wore two left shoes(one larger that the other) and came to school today. “ Then, I burst out laughing looking at the bewildered look the lady behind the desk gave me. She looked like she’d seen it all, that lady. So, I told her between bursts of my own laughing and blushing, that if she could call her out during recess and give her the right shoes, I’d appreciate it.
The kind lady looked at me and said, she will call her out of class then itself because it might be hampering the child, and then twinkled her eyes kindly and said, “Don’t worry dear. We’ve seen much worse haven’t we Mrs. Dee?” To which Mrs Dee replied most graciously that this was not the strangest request she’d heard in all the years she has been teaching. She assured me it was a tame one compared to some wild requests she’d seen.
Really, what goes on in Schools?
On that note, I recently read Miss Read’s “Tales from a Village School”, and had the time of my life laughing about her tales. If you haven’t read it, please give it a try. (http://www.amazon.com/TALES-FROM-A-VILLAGE-SCHOOL/dp/0718100700/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1387484159&sr=8-1&keywords=Tales+from+a+Village+School)