Every year about this time in May I go to a thing called "8th Grade promotion." I can hear my mother (the long time teacher) say; "8th Grade Promotion? That's ridiculous! Graduating is an accomplishment, moving from one school to the other is not."
Ok so back to what I was doing.
If you've never been to a 8th grade promotion, here's what happens.
- 8th grade girls get SUPER dressed up. Some of them wear appropriate clothing. Some of them look like a 'cocktail waitress in a Dolly Parton wig' (name that song)
- 8th grade boys can't decide if they are happy with the way the girls are dressing OR if they are uncomfortable with it.
- 8th grade boys wear suits, shirt and tie or perhaps just a polo. No one notices what the boys are wearing.
- Select kids get up and speak about their experiences in Junior high and what they expect out of high school. (think what a Valedictorian says at graduation except this is an 8th grader speaking)
- Many excited parents and grandparents are there to cheer for their little muffins.
On to using your senses…
- When walking into the gym; I think I heard the F bomb at least 30 times.
- I heard a lot of "Excuse me is this seat saved?" "Hold still! I'm trying to take your picture!"
- "Don't touch my hair! My mom paid like $50.00 to get it done!"
- "Can you believe what she wore?"
- I think I heard the B word at least 40 times.
- oh.. and lots of babies crying (none of which was mine)
- Sequins, beads and lots of glittery girls
- fabulous high heel sandals.. and the girls that can't walk in them.
- Sad parents, happy parents, excited kids
- A member of the Board of Education that use to be a teacher and is the reason I homeschool. Seeing him on the BOE did not make my day. I can assure you this guy shouldn't be a teacher, let alone make decisions for school districts.
- I smelled lots of Victoria's Secret perfume walking in the place. (which smells like fruit salad)
- Sitting down I smelled a wonderful combination of: marijuana, cigarette, body odor, dirty hair and beer. Because it was a little warm in the gym they would fan themselves and occasionally fan or de-cling their shirt… where I would then get a whiff of what has to be clothes that have sat in the washer too long.
- I tasted nothing, because well.. I couldn't eat a cookie or punch after smelling all of the above for an hour and fifteen minutes.
See the dude under the red arrow? He was my teacher in high school.. and his mother saved me from getting swats! By the way he looks just like he did when I was in school.
PS: I'm writing this as kind of a joke.. but the smells WERE no laughing matter.