Higher and lower education.

      Years ago there was a great documentary about the need of higher education.  In this landmark film, an older man was inspired to join his son in advancing his education and returned to school.  The man struggled at first, had an affair with one of his instructors and eventually excelled, leading his school's swim team to victory.  That movie was the legendary "Back to School" starring Rodney Dangerfield.  Oh yeah, a really young Tony Stark too!  Okay, it wasn't a documentary, but the movie did teach us about the importance of education, sort of.  Well, no.  No it didn't.  It was funny and had a party scene featuring Oingo Boingo playing "Dead Man's Party", so go watch it.  Last Thursday was the 14 year old's Back to School night.  Normally I hear of such functions, run into the woods and hide in an abandoned cabin like a zombie plague survivor in "Night of the Living Dead".  Being her first High School back to school night, it was somewhat important.  That, and my wife threatened to bludgeon me to death with my own shoes if I didn't go with her.
      What you need to understand is that school functions, especially those with parent/teacher interaction are sort of like tag team wrestling matches.  You cannot participate on your own.  You need your partner to jump in and help you.  In wrestling, there is always a dichotomy between the team mates that make them interesting.  You have the brawler and the strategist, the crazy person and the quiet person, the guys dressed like bees, the guys dressed like road warriors (Not Mel Gibson, although I would love to see his crazy ass wrestle...though you'd have to spend a lot of money boozing him up first.) among other archetypes.  With my wife and I, you have Mercedes the Merciless and Ryan the guy who really, really didn't want to be there in the first place.  Once we arrive at the School, my wife immediately put on her game face.  It's a big smile and eyes like a hawk.  Despite the fact that my wife wears glasses, she has the uncanny ability to spot any errors that anyone makes.  It's quite amerzing.  See, she's going to spot that typo and mock me for it.  The second we walk on the school grounds, the baby decides that running around and screaming like she's on fire is the best plan of action.  She is drawn to the many flights of stairs that dot the school's landscape.  Some stairs are just there and serve no function.  It's like a freaking M.C. Escher painting.

Pictured:  Michelea's High School

Of course, Babies running up and down stairs is just a brilliant idea, so I let her go.  She's tough.  Like a slinky, she'll just bounce up and down the steps.  And like said slinky, she'll never move again. (I always had bad luck with slinkys.  I felt like they only worked once and that was that.)  So, I chase her around while Mercy deals with the school.  After realizing that her first teacher is pretty hands off and about ready to cash her pension check, Mercy's not to pleased with the way this night is shaping up.  We go to the next class and then the next and suddenly...tag!  It's my turn to go back to the second class and sign the sheet.  Of course my mini-toddler partner had no intention to allow me to quietly sneak into the room, so she wails and wails, while going limp and forcing me to drag her to the sign up sheet.  

Next, the toddler and I ran to the field where we watched some people playing handball.  The ball rolled to Luna and she refused to give it up, shouting..."Run, Run!" when the people asked for their ball back.  This was followed by a kite crashing down next to us and Luna proclaiming "Get it! Get it!"  So, I stole it away from a crying 5 year old.  Let her parents deal with their kid's tears, I had my hands full.  Other than becoming the proud new owners of a Tinkerbell kite, one good thing that came from the night was that we learned Michelea is doing great in High School.  See, constant floggings do work.  I'm just kidding, the floggings are now semi-regular.