Yesterday morning, Declan skipped over to me chipper as you please and said, “Mama! I learned a new song at afterschool care yesterday!” I was thrilled! New songs = good! “Let’s hear it!,” I exclaimed!
You’re gonna pump our gas someday!
I kept my tone really even and I asked, “So, who taught you that song?”
“Miss ______ …(name withheld so I can strangle her later).”
Are you fgjsd;gndsg#ndg kidding me? Your dfgh$sdgks&fbasl teacher taught you that song?
(OK, that’s not what I said).
I told him to come sit down.
And we talked for about 15 minutes about how I didn’t really like to disagree with his teachers, but that I had noticed Miss “X” sometimes says things in ways that I don’t like (she tends to label kids), and that this song was REALLY bad. That he wasn’t in trouble, because he didn’t know what he was saying, but it was a song about making fun of someone for their job, and all jobs are important. That it makes fun of someone for having less money than you, and that Mama had gone to a school that was famous for that (exemplified by a basketball game where a bunch of girls in the stands got up and waved $20 bills at the opposing fans and chanted “we got money and you don’t!”) and Mama really really really doesn’t like that kind of attitude. That when he grows up and chooses a career, we would help him look at the things he is good at, the things he likes to do, and yes, if the job makes enough money to support himself – but that money is not the most important part. And if he decided to work at a gas station because all the aforementioned reasons fit, we would totally support him.
Are you bored? Because Declan was.
And when Bryan got up, I told him, and he was pissed too. (Ha-HA! If Bryan is pissed, then you know it’s bad.) Of course, my ever-smart, ever-logical husband said, “Well, you could have just said you didn’t like the song because it put other people down.” Whatever, MR. SIMPLE. Maybe I like going on and on for 15 minutes until my son nods off and drool dribbles down his chin.
Either way, it has come up several times since, and Declan has repeated snippets from my dissertation, so I know he was listening while he was drooling.
So. Now. The big question. What to do about it.
Bryan and I have come up with several scenarios.
1. Talk to Miss X directly.
2. Talk to the lead teacher of the afterschool care, whom we have a very good relationship with.
3. Gather all the afterschool teachers together and tell them Declan learned this song in their program, that we don’t know who taught it to him (giving her the benefit of the doubt) but that we were very upset about it and the principal would be too (to put it mildly – technically, she would lose her shit).
4. Beat the crap out of Miss X. Oh wait, I think we discarded that one.
5. Talk to the PTA about it.
6. All of the above.