Monday, March 31, 2008

Pimpin' Ducks and a Death Wish

Friday morning, Roger, the school’s computer lab gent, called me to ask about some writing on the white board in the lab Thursday. One was harmless. “Webkinz Rules” in a little heart. [Harmless, that is, if you overlook the whole Webkinz-as-religion concept.]

The other missive? “Pimpin’ Ducks.”

As I had been in the lab, ostensibly overseeing four 5th grade boys (including Eldest) and three 4th graders (including Daughter), he was wondering what I might have seen. I knew it couldn’t be any of them. [Okay, maybe Daughter with the Webkinz, but not the other.] No way. No how. All 5th graders, the ones closest to the white board, were decent kids who’d never, ever have done it.

Walking into the lab at lunch time, I came across my son and Roger. I asked my son if he saw any of the boys writing on the board. “Writing?” he asked. Yeah, dude, someone had left something rude on it. “Was it something like, ‘Pimpin’ Ducks’?” he asked.


His next comment? “I thought I’d erased it.”

Controlling his laughter, Roger was left to sort it out as I left the lab and told him to talk to my boy about it. [You know, school issue and all.]

* * *

Fast forward to pick-up time for the kindergartners. The teacher asks me to stick around for a moment so she can have a quick word with me. It appears that during centers, Youngest randomly told his fellow tablemates a half dozen times that he was going to commit suicide after school.


Neither the teacher nor her teaching partner said something to him. She was pretty sure no one knew what the hell Youngest was talking about. She wondered, aloud and rhetorically, where he’d have picked such a thing up. I told her I would deal with it and that at least I could be thankful he hadn’t started coming to school all in black threatening to take people out. [It occurs to me now that I probably shouldn’t say things like that. At least not to teachers. Or at least not to teachers on school grounds.]

* * *

Welcome to my world, the world of lax parenting. At least the former situation can lead to a frank discussion about sex when explaining what “pimpin’” actually means to the older generation. The latter situation mostly leaves me speechless. Oh, and banning Youngest from any more access to PG-13 material.


I mentioned to Eldest the other night that I had a fairly wide open day Friday. Writer that he is, he wondered if I would perhaps like a wri...