Smartypants Dumbass

We have this really cool online thingy with the school, where at any given moment, I can log on and see my child's grades and attendance.  We can make schedule changes, look at the schedule for the year, check on graduation requirements, and pretty much do everything but cook a whole chicken with it.  It's a great resource.

When you use it.

My youngest is a junior in high school.  This should have been a warning flag, but I thought with two years of high school under his belt, we'd see smoother sailing.

Uh huh.

I forgot that he now has a license.  And a car.  And a social life.  And a job.  And extracurriculars.

He's quite accomplished.

With that license, he drives.  In the car.  To social events.  Also to his job.  And to his extracurriculars.

What he doesn't accomplish is finishing homework.  Let alone handing it in.

How do I know this?  Because the grades posted link you to another page that actually shows the assignments, quizzes, projects, and tests that make up that grade.  In vivid, glaring, alarm sounding detail.

There are only four grades to look at, since we are a four block schedule.  Meaning, four classes a day for 90 minutes each.  90 minutes should mean getting the work done, or at least partially done while in class.

SHOULD.

When I saw the glaring "F" and the only slightly less insulting "C", I had to take ten deep breaths before linking to the actual classwork.  I then took another ten deep breaths when I saw the repeated "A's" on tests and quizzes, and classwork that was done during instruction time.  I added 20 deep breaths when I saw the homework.  A series of "F's" with zero scores, making it glaringly obvious that no work was being handed in.

It is amazing how calm I can be when in a full on rage of epic proportions.

I'm a raging bitch of a mother on the inside, and no, a "C" is not acceptable.  Not when it shows no effort to achieve that "C". 

So we are re-prioritizing around here.  Gone is the help with the fall musical.  Gone is the social life.  He can keep the job, because he may need that paycheck if he can't accomplish standard homework expected of him and finds himself aimless and drifting after his primary education is finished.  The assignments I saw are written down, and short of putting a post it note on his forehead, he is expected to address them all and be a responsible student.  If he doesn't improve, he will lose the car, and he can congratulate himself on being the only junior in high school riding the bus.  And walking to work.  Where his mommy will pick him up when it is time for him to clock out and go home to do homework.

Oh lawdy, raising children is such a joy.  These are the shining moments that make me feel all warm and squishy inside.

Wait, that's the drink I poured after another lecture with the teenager.

I'm willing to bet his sister in college would love to insert her opinion about slacking off, in which I would have to recall the endless fighting and mouthing off that drove her mommy to drink while she was still living at home.

I swear the teenage years are meant to be rough.  They are meant to try your patience, sharpen your ability to hold in your rage, and define insanity. 

It makes that empty nest look divine.

Rattling ice cubes.