Sometimes, The Signs are Golden...
Update: Plucky Sister Vianney stays!
Last night, Bryson told us that he was receiving an award at school, but that it was no big deal and that we didn't "have" to come if we didn't want to. PUHLEEZE Son. When have we not wanted to come to anything for you guys? He said that he really didn't think it was any big deal and again said that it really wasn't necessary for us to attend. Hmmmmmm. Something's up, and you know me, I gotta find out what the deal is. So off we go.
As Charlie and I find our seats for the ceremony to begin, Bryson goes off to the other side of the auditorium to sit with his friends....God forbid he should be seen sitting with his parents. The audience hushes as the principal gets up to make his opening speech. His speech, as it turns out, is more like a David Letterman "Top Ten" monologue. It's hilarious, actually; something to the effect of, "Top Ten Reasons You Know You're A Teacher." One reason that the audience particularly liked was when he said, "The Number 5 reason you know you're a teacher is when you have an inexplicable urge to throw a shoe at someone you don't even know." Apparantly, a favorite teacher has a habit of taking off her shoe in class when the kids get a little unruly and threatening to throw it, so that comment went off really well. Once the principal's "monologue" was over, he immediately said he wanted to thank his collaborative writing partner, Bryson, who spent some time in his office today. Huh? "Don't panic Mom and Dad, he was sent to help me write this...honestly." Insert sigh of relief here.
As the program progesses, we wait anxiously to hear our son's name called for the catagories listed; "Best overall student", "Community Service", "Most Intelligent", "Student of the Year", etc. etc. The proud parents glowing as their children receive their beautiful medallions, but nothing yet for Bryson. Charlie leans over and whispers, "He did say he was getting an award, didn't he?" I nod. It seems the medallion awards are over, but a teacher gets up and says:
"Now we'd like to give an award called 'The Golden Shoe' award. The Golden Shoe is reserved for the student who creates the comic relief, the class clown, if you will. This is the student that you just want to throw your shoe at sometimes because you just can't seem to get them to focus but you know with every fiber of your being that they CAN soar academically. This is the fidgeter, the charmer, the frustrater that you can't help but love. The Golden Shoe award goes to Bryson..."
Charlie leans over again and quietly says; "Figures."
The auditorium explodes in yells, applause, and chanting. Bryson literally floats down the aisle, smile beaming, raising his arms in victory, proud as proud could be. He's handed his award, raises it to the audience, and as he does, I go up like all the other proud parents of honor students before me, with my camera ready, and take his picture. What else can I possibly do? As his teacher hugs him, he whispers something in her ear and she laughs with tears streaming down her face. I asked him what he said to her and he smiled and said; "I think I'm the only kid you've ever really thrown your shoe at." And she said; "I think you're right."
My son, Master Goofball of the Year. I'm so proud.
Last night, Bryson told us that he was receiving an award at school, but that it was no big deal and that we didn't "have" to come if we didn't want to. PUHLEEZE Son. When have we not wanted to come to anything for you guys? He said that he really didn't think it was any big deal and again said that it really wasn't necessary for us to attend. Hmmmmmm. Something's up, and you know me, I gotta find out what the deal is. So off we go.
As Charlie and I find our seats for the ceremony to begin, Bryson goes off to the other side of the auditorium to sit with his friends....God forbid he should be seen sitting with his parents. The audience hushes as the principal gets up to make his opening speech. His speech, as it turns out, is more like a David Letterman "Top Ten" monologue. It's hilarious, actually; something to the effect of, "Top Ten Reasons You Know You're A Teacher." One reason that the audience particularly liked was when he said, "The Number 5 reason you know you're a teacher is when you have an inexplicable urge to throw a shoe at someone you don't even know." Apparantly, a favorite teacher has a habit of taking off her shoe in class when the kids get a little unruly and threatening to throw it, so that comment went off really well. Once the principal's "monologue" was over, he immediately said he wanted to thank his collaborative writing partner, Bryson, who spent some time in his office today. Huh? "Don't panic Mom and Dad, he was sent to help me write this...honestly." Insert sigh of relief here.
As the program progesses, we wait anxiously to hear our son's name called for the catagories listed; "Best overall student", "Community Service", "Most Intelligent", "Student of the Year", etc. etc. The proud parents glowing as their children receive their beautiful medallions, but nothing yet for Bryson. Charlie leans over and whispers, "He did say he was getting an award, didn't he?" I nod. It seems the medallion awards are over, but a teacher gets up and says:
"Now we'd like to give an award called 'The Golden Shoe' award. The Golden Shoe is reserved for the student who creates the comic relief, the class clown, if you will. This is the student that you just want to throw your shoe at sometimes because you just can't seem to get them to focus but you know with every fiber of your being that they CAN soar academically. This is the fidgeter, the charmer, the frustrater that you can't help but love. The Golden Shoe award goes to Bryson..."
Charlie leans over again and quietly says; "Figures."
The auditorium explodes in yells, applause, and chanting. Bryson literally floats down the aisle, smile beaming, raising his arms in victory, proud as proud could be. He's handed his award, raises it to the audience, and as he does, I go up like all the other proud parents of honor students before me, with my camera ready, and take his picture. What else can I possibly do? As his teacher hugs him, he whispers something in her ear and she laughs with tears streaming down her face. I asked him what he said to her and he smiled and said; "I think I'm the only kid you've ever really thrown your shoe at." And she said; "I think you're right."
My son, Master Goofball of the Year. I'm so proud.
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