Pick Your Battles

Wise words, but with my youngest child, choosing one battleground over another is a never-ending feat. Sometimes it seems I must drop one to begin another. And then do I go back to the first one, or will that be viewed as a retreat??

Keith has begun the worst year of school to ever blight American-child kind: 7th grade, the beginning of junior high. Acne, growth spurts, voice changes, awakening sexuality... and during it all, somehow, a complete loss of any tact you might have ever had, the sneaking suspicion that you know it all, and the need to impart this wisdom to every adult whose path you cross...

In junior high you are expected to suit up for PE. They provide, for $10 apiece, a pair of dark green shorts and a grey t-shirt, each emblazoned with the school name and mascot. Thus far (school has been in session for 6 weeks, with a billion to go), we have spent $70 on gym clothes. SEVENTY DOLLARS. And Keith has (drum roll please) one pair of shorts and one shirt left. He swears he put each and every one in his locker, and did not leave it on the bench. He swears his twisted the lock multiple times. He has no idea how these items disappeared - certainly it wasn't his fault...

During the first week of school, I didn't put much thought into motion when he said he was doing his homework at school. (I was too busy calculating gym clothing costs for the year, perhaps.) The second week, I finally began to wonder how it could be that Zach and Hannah where given hours of homework a night during junior high, and yet Keith had yet to bring home a single assignment. Amazing, eh? I emailed all of his teachers.

No wonder Keith thought junior high was great for those first 10 glorious days. He wasn't doing a damned thing. Nothing. Nada. Zero (a number with which he was familiar, because he'd accumulated LOTS of them). He was failing everything but orchestra and gym.

Not to be outdone by screwing up his academic life, I suppose Keith didn't want to let the first 6-weeks go by without meeting the vice principal. Some other child was blocking the doorway, so Keith gave him a shove. Strangely enough, the kid shoved Keith back, and this led to a couple of punches being thrown, including once where the kid slammed Keith's fist with his face. Ergh!

I didn't know what to curse and yell about first.

So I guess Keith and I are attempting to learn the same lesson - that one about picking battles. (So many choices, so little patience!) Report cards come out Friday. Prayers are appreciated.