A Letter To My Daughter’s First Grade Teacher

Dearest Mrs. Smith,

I cannot tell you how much Winter Break made me appreciate you. I mean, yes, you’re a wonderful teacher and you surely have mad love for my wild-child, but really, these past two weeks made me ponder whether or not you are human. I am thinking no…..I’m beginning to believe you must be some form of an immortal, a saint even.

I have no idea how you keep track of a classroom full of kids and A.) prevent injury B.) manage to teach them anything (actual fundamental life-skills such as reading and writing, mind you), and C.) don’t duct tape them all to the wall.

You’d think that this past summer break would have been a foreshadowing as to what Winter Break would look like, but it wasn’t for two reasons: One, I have a horrible case of amnesia. Two, I have a self-manifested condition of the  ‘It wasn’t THAT bad-its’. 

I drank Jaegermeister once and woke up with hangover pain similar to the agony my body felt after my first snowboarding attempt. I thought I was going to die…or need a walker for life. 

I swore up and down I’d never lay eyes on another Jager Bomb or piece of snowboarding equipment so long as I lived.

I believe I have a bottle of Jaegermeister in the freezer and furthermore, an arsenal of snowboarding equipment in the garage. Brand new, twice-used snowboard equipment, but nonetheless….

 

Like I said, a case of ‘amnesia’ and the ‘It wasn’t THAT bad-its’….

During the course of two weeks, your sweet student, my wild-child, has turned my home into DEFCON 1. War was surely imminent in the Smash household; a war of Barbie’s in my living room inside a Dream House the size of my first apartment. Shopkins ready for battle, underwear hanging from the ceiling fan, and a Barbie haircut, just to name a few. She also used two bottles of Bath & Body Works hand sanitizer….in five minutes, and even more impressive, dumped an entire box of cereal down her pants. Oh, and the master behind the wheel of the mission, your ‘sweet peach’, Haydan, bathed probably four times the entire two week Winter Break. And, she refuses to wear any form of pants. Although I think I may be partially responsible for that one…

 

Working from home, I realized that having a seven-year-old as an office assistant is similar to trying to complete a college term paper while in attendance at a frat-party. A.K.A- Never going to fucking happen. My ‘office assistant’ highjacked my work phone when I wasn’t looking and accidentally answered a call mid ‘Angry Bird success’. ‘YES! DESTRUCTION!!!!!’ was how the customer was greeted when phoning our ‘professional establishment’.

Mrs. Smith, all I really have to say is THANK-YOU. Thank-you for taking her back, We, I really missed you. Thank-you for loving her with all your heart; I hope she doesn’t pour a box of cereal down your pants or remove her pants during class, or answer your classroom phone with any mention of ‘DESTRUCTION!!!’. I will work on the bathing routine. If she reeks of Bath & Body works, you know why. It’s her new form of personal hygiene.

P.S. We might be deadlocking her hair. I’ll keep you posted.

Love,

Ashley Alteman

(Cereal Pant’s Mother)

 

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