Yesterday, my mom and I had this conversation:
M: Catherine, are you going to Stevens tonight?
C: No
M: Why not, it's Fathers Day.
C: Right. Stevens my brother, not my father.
M: You're not going to honor your brother?
C: Honor my brother? Is he a Roman emporer? What are you even talking about
M: You should show some respect and go over
C: I really don't think it matters if I'm there, I'd rather be alone today anyway.
M: But you should show that you respect him! Respect!
C: Why are you talking like Carmella Soprano?
And then she hung up.
In honor of Fathers Day (a day late) I wanted to share a few e-mails shared between my Dad and I when I was a freshman in High School. Since I'm on my awesome school computer I am unable to take a screen shot, so I'll have to re-iterate the conversation via text.
2002-From Dad
Catherine,
I received a notice in the mail informing me that once again, you have skipped class and the school will have to start taking disciplinary action now that you have skipped over three classes in the course of a month. There is absolutely no excuse for this. Even if you are ill, which I know that you are not, you must find a way to get yourself to class. This is unacceptable Catherine, you need to get your act together immediately. If it is your intention to frustrate all of those who are trying to help you, you have succeeded.
Dad
From Me to Dad
Hi Dad,
I don't want to frustrate you. Last week I skipped my Spanish class so my roommate and I could learn the Footloose dance in our dorm. It's not like I was doing drugs, the school makes things sound much more dramatic than they actually are. I got detention so I will be serving out their "disciplinary" sentence in the cafeteria later tonight. Also, do you think you could send me a book on Stocks and Bonds? I have no idea how that works and I would like to start learning.
Love,
Cath
From Dad to Me
Catherine,
Call me immediately.
Dad
What lucky parents!
Monday, June 20, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Write Up
Re-posting in honor of Orme's recent reunion. Lily, Mandi, Charley and I will see you next year. Try to hide your excitement.
Over the weekend I found a "write up", those of you who went to my boarding school I am sure painfully remember the joy of receiving a write up. For those of you who did not go to school with us, it was a disciplinary notice you would receive (in the mail, even though everyone you knew lived about 50 feet away). You would be sent one if you had been caught breaking the rules, or as we thought of it, having fun. No smoking (a habit I think I only picked up for a year in high school to annoy my parents) and no kidnapping the farm animals for ransom. Blackmail is still as fun as it always was in high school, what can I say, they had no sense of humor.
Anyway, so I found a write up from 2002 in an old photo box over the weekend, written by a male teacher who shall remain nameless. A "write up" was slightly less formal than a police report but had novel-esque detail to it, attributing every word said in a conversation and sometimes even taking the weather into account. It wouldn't just say I was caught smoking behind the gym, I was caught "On a dark night, it was windy and the smell drifted to the front of the gymnasium; and that's when I knew it. Someone was smoking." If you're going to write that dramatic of a lead-up, there better be an underage smuggling operation or attempted homicide involved.
My write up I found said:
"I found Ms. Crook outside of her dorm on the west side of barnyard at approximately 11:45 pm. When I told her she was out of bounds and needed to return to her dorm, she told me she would do so when she was off the phone. Ms. Crook's attitude and behavior were characteristically very disappointing and I told her I thought she could do better. She then responded, 'So could your wife.' I am writing Ms. Crook up for bounds and insubordinate language and behavior."
So, apparently my reputation for being a smart mouth in high school was not entirely undeserved. If it makes me seem less gross, I am now friends (10 years later) with almost all of these teachers whose lives I once tried to ostensibly ruin. Poor people, I have a lot of apology letters to write.
Over the weekend I found a "write up", those of you who went to my boarding school I am sure painfully remember the joy of receiving a write up. For those of you who did not go to school with us, it was a disciplinary notice you would receive (in the mail, even though everyone you knew lived about 50 feet away). You would be sent one if you had been caught breaking the rules, or as we thought of it, having fun. No smoking (a habit I think I only picked up for a year in high school to annoy my parents) and no kidnapping the farm animals for ransom. Blackmail is still as fun as it always was in high school, what can I say, they had no sense of humor.
Anyway, so I found a write up from 2002 in an old photo box over the weekend, written by a male teacher who shall remain nameless. A "write up" was slightly less formal than a police report but had novel-esque detail to it, attributing every word said in a conversation and sometimes even taking the weather into account. It wouldn't just say I was caught smoking behind the gym, I was caught "On a dark night, it was windy and the smell drifted to the front of the gymnasium; and that's when I knew it. Someone was smoking." If you're going to write that dramatic of a lead-up, there better be an underage smuggling operation or attempted homicide involved.
My write up I found said:
"I found Ms. Crook outside of her dorm on the west side of barnyard at approximately 11:45 pm. When I told her she was out of bounds and needed to return to her dorm, she told me she would do so when she was off the phone. Ms. Crook's attitude and behavior were characteristically very disappointing and I told her I thought she could do better. She then responded, 'So could your wife.' I am writing Ms. Crook up for bounds and insubordinate language and behavior."
So, apparently my reputation for being a smart mouth in high school was not entirely undeserved. If it makes me seem less gross, I am now friends (10 years later) with almost all of these teachers whose lives I once tried to ostensibly ruin. Poor people, I have a lot of apology letters to write.
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