T.R. won’t be there, either, since he has a prior engagement in Disneyland. Lucky little pest. This helps with the guilt thing. So does the fact that I’m going to help out my folks at a rough moment.
The glee comes from the way open houses work. They are a cross between the mosh pit at a concert and a tea party at which you need to be on your best behavior. My life’s ambition is not to be crushed to death while smiling politely. I don’t need to go smash into a series of classrooms with a bunch of teachers who would rather be home with their feet up (as they should be!) to know what my kid is doing in school. He tells me. He shows me. I am already a believer in what the teachers are doing and don’t need to see a wall of projects to convince me that my tax dollars are being spent appropriately.
Another part of the glee: I won’t have to navigate the narrow hallways with huge rafts of papers, since pretty much everything goes home from open house and classrooms acquire a nice, airy, empty feel for the last month of school.
I won’t get carried away with the celebrating; I have to go to the one at the high school next week.