Dad to the Principal's Office

Posted on May 10, 2013 

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I got in trouble at school on Thursday.  I thought I was going to get sent to the principal's office.  I deserved it though.  Didn't do my homework correctly.

This is the story of my life, and I can't figure out what's wrong with me.  Why can't I get this stuff right?

It started with the permission slips for Michelle's fourth grade school trip to the beach.  There were several.  The problem was that you had to open the school newsletter, read the school newsletter, and then open Michelle's teacher's newsletter, at the bottom of the original newsletter, to find the link to find the forms to print them out to fill them out to send them back to school.  Once I had the link, I had to find the school website.  Once on the website, I had to open my personal excel spreadsheet that contains all of my passwords and user names so that I could indeed log in to find and print the forms.

Oh, my excel spreadsheet is password protected, by me (sneaky huh?).  If I ever forget the password to my password spreadsheet, I'm up "sheet" creek.

Michelle announced at dinner one night that she was the only kid in her class who had not turned in the forms and that they were overdue.  I wonder how that makes her feel?  Probably not too good.

"I didn't see them in your Friday folder."

"They weren't in my Friday folder.  You have to print them out yourself, they're on the school  website."

I'm sure most parents have the login to their child's school website memorized.  Mine is up there in the ole steel trap, along with my work login, my blog login, my personal email logins, DJ's school's login, my Orbitz and American Airlines logins, my Zappos logins, the login and password to stop my mail when we go on vacation and the login to two bank accounts and two investment accounts.  Not to mention my retirement account login, the HR login for work which is a separate software, the login info for the kids' service club, the foul weather login for youth basketball in the winter, Facebook and Twitter and Instagram so I can make sure my kids aren't posting inappropriate photos of themselves or cyber bullying.

So I got the paperwork turned in but forgot to have Michelle sign the behavior agreement form, which we had gone over, in detail, on our way home from dance one evening.  Apparently you did not have to sit or sleep with your trip "buddy" but you did have to know where they were at any given time.

When we arrived at school at 5:45 AM, I walked up to the school nurse to give her Michelle's allergy pill.  I had already turned in the "official" typed up form that I easily found on the school website, well, once I got logged on.

"Hello nurse.  I have Michelle's medicine right here."  I was so proud of myself.  The pill was in a zip lock bag with the name of the medication, dosage, along with instructions for dispersing the pill and my signature.  I'd even written her name on the biggie with a black Sharpie marker.

"Mr. Ham, can you read?" Nurse asked in a kind yet firm tone.

"Why yes.  In fact, I can write too!"

"It clearly stated on the medical form that you needed to have a doctor's signature for any medication."

"It's over the counter."  I had her!!!

"Signature for ALL medications, even over the counter.  It says so clearly on the form."

"Geeze.  Even over the counter?"

"Yes.  And, the pill is supposed to be in the original container Mr. Ham."

"Not a zip lock bag?"

"No!"

"But it has her name on it, with a black Sharpie PERMANENT marker."  We aren't talking Crayola here.

"No, Mr. Ham."

"Awe."

I should have just taped the pill to her chest.  It was tiny.  They would have thought it was a button.

From now on, I'm going to do better.  I'm going to read every word of every newsletter, web site, email and document from all schools, teachers, camps, church leaders, piano teachers, dance instructors, basketball coaches, Service Club leaders, theater personnel, doctors or nurses, afterschool counselors, singing group coordinators, friend's moms and the Gap.  I'm going to have to quit my job, but I'm going to read them all.

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