Back to School Blues

School has started once again and I've found myself looking up down left and right trying to find someone to dump my frustrations on.
My kids' teachers? No, I don't want to be branded a whiner this early in the school year. That will come soon enough.
My kids' aids? Same answer as above.
My friends? They're already overloaded with their own back to school angst.
My husband? He wants to solve my problems. And who wants to have solved problems? NOT ME! I just want to wallow in them!! (It's not about the nail Doug.)
Therefore, to whom can I bare my tortured soul?
Only you are left, dear blog!
--Brace yourself--

We have been in school for two weeks and two days now.  Twelve school days total.
Already I'm feeling like I'm falling way, way, waaaaaaaaaaaaay behind.

I get this panicky feeling like I can't do it all and decide the obvious choice is to pull them all out, and start homeschooling them. The first few months we'll focus mainly on sleeping in, but after I let them get dumber for a bit, I'll hook them up with an on-line math teacher, crank some classical music, and call it good. (You might think I'm disparaging home-schoolers right now. I'm not. I'm disparaging me as a home-schooler.)

Last night Gabe brought me a packet of stuff from his teacher. Lots to read and do and sign as well as some completed assignments being returned for my acknowledgment. The assignments came with notes from the teacher.
Gabe is behind in reading.
Behind in writing.
And way, way behind in math facts.

[When Max was in first grade, we drilled him on his math facts every night until he was at the top of his class. For some reason, Gabe is not receiving the same amount of attention! Shocker, eh?]

I was given some forms to fill out too. (This is in addition to the large packet already filled out last week.) The form-to-drive-on-fieldtrips-form requires a copy of my license, a copy of my insurance, a copy of something certifying that I'm a safe driver, and a copy of my most recent full body scan to make sure I don't have a disease that will make me keel over at the wheel. If I don't have time to gather, scan and copy all of those items, what are the odds I'll have time to drive for a field trip?

Next in line were some pink pages from the math teacher. FOUR pink pages. (Plus a signature page) Covered on front and back for a grand total of EIGHT pages of information on what I can expect, what I can donate, what I need to know, how I need to help him, what programs he'll use, and what goes into the bleeping treasure chest.
(Listen, I'm not one to give lectures about the importance of succinctness and brevity in writing--obviously--but reading this blog is OPTIONAL for you. The packet?Not so much for me!)

In addition to the math packet light reading, I had to set up two different log-ins for two different programs. One program will send math progress updates right to my phone!!! (Bleep!)
I was also told they will be using four--FOUR--different math computer programs for homework--in addition to worksheets. (You know what that means, right? FOUR different log-ins, four different passwords, and four different programs to potentially (almost assuredly) malfunction on his school issued i-Pad. (Nothing ever works the way it should on the school issued i-Pad.)

All that for one subject. I couldn't even read the whole dang packet in one night. When I got to yet another page instructing me how to register for yet another program, I ripped the packet into shreds and lit the strips on fire, spitting in the smoldering pile of ashes. (At least in my mind. In reality, I set the dumb thing on my night stand and stared disdainfully at it.)

Today I got it back out again.
I registered on the sights that needed me to register.
Read what needed to be read, and silently swore a few times to make myself feel better.

And then Sam came in and handed me a pink packet.

He has the same math teacher.

Time to homeschool.