Re-Pro-Duc-Tion
We found out this week that my daughter’s school is about to introduce reproduction.
(Every time I say it, I have the clip from Grease 2 enter my head, where they are singing: Re-Pro-Duc-Tion. All the kids are dancing around the classroom, singing about the biology, human physiology, and, ummm, the making out.
Oh come off it, you know you saw it too when you were young! And even though it was a completely plot-less, mindless dance-a-thon about making it with anyone and I would never watch or recommend it to anyone – even the people I don’t like, it had some really memorable songs. Score Tonight, Who’s That Guy?, and We’ll Be Together to name a few. And Cool Rider was so… well, cool! Michelle Pfieffer was singing about the man of her dreams, dancing around the back of an empty stage, perching on a ladder, and looking great in her black clothes and, of course, a pink jacket.
Chalk it up to being 13 and very impressionable and having a fabulous memory when it comes to words in a song. Just ask Mr. Right… he can attest to this freakness of nature within me.)
Anyway… Back to what I really wanted to write about... school’s reproduction presentation.
They had a parents’ night for those who had 4th and 5th graders so that the school could talk about what would be discussed with the kids, how it was going to happen, and review the movies that the classes will be viewing.
Can I just state how surprising it is to me that parents aren’t concerned about what their kids will be seeing in class? Out of a 150 kids, only about 25 adults showed up, and some of them were married to each other. I’d say only about 14 families were represented... out of 150! A shocker for me. I just can’t see letting your kids go through school and never questioning or viewing what your child sees or hears.
But then again, I have to remember that I am part of the small percentile of parents who actually feel that it is my responsibility to raise my kids, not the school’s or my church’s or Hollywood’s or the television shows’ or the neighbor’s next door. That is so sad.
I found the meeting helpful. The nurse discussed how they two sexes will be separate, they’ll have a talk that most of them will not want to hear, they’ll watch a movie about their body, and then they’ll ask if there are any questions, and no one will raise their hands because no one will want to talk about it. They mostly want to get outside for recess. I think she nailed it on the head.
We reviewed the material and I watched the movie they will be showing the girls. I think I learned a thing or two myself…
Also, I think, “Is it really that time already?”
At the end of last summer, I had the discussion with my daughter about periods, about how boys differ from girls and how babies are made. She seemed reluctant to hear any of it at first, but then she was inquisitive and then she wanted to know if she could have a popsicle.
Like mother, like daughter. I’m pretty sure I was the same way at nine. Heck, I can be the same way now. Only now instead of the popsicle, I want chocolate chip cookie dough.
(Every time I say it, I have the clip from Grease 2 enter my head, where they are singing: Re-Pro-Duc-Tion. All the kids are dancing around the classroom, singing about the biology, human physiology, and, ummm, the making out.
Oh come off it, you know you saw it too when you were young! And even though it was a completely plot-less, mindless dance-a-thon about making it with anyone and I would never watch or recommend it to anyone – even the people I don’t like, it had some really memorable songs. Score Tonight, Who’s That Guy?, and We’ll Be Together to name a few. And Cool Rider was so… well, cool! Michelle Pfieffer was singing about the man of her dreams, dancing around the back of an empty stage, perching on a ladder, and looking great in her black clothes and, of course, a pink jacket.
A coooool rider, a coooool rider.
If he's cool enough,He can burn me through and through.
Whhoa ohhhh If it takes forever,Then I'll wait forever.
No ordinary boy,No ordinary boy is gonna do.
I want a rider that's cool.
Chalk it up to being 13 and very impressionable and having a fabulous memory when it comes to words in a song. Just ask Mr. Right… he can attest to this freakness of nature within me.)
Anyway… Back to what I really wanted to write about... school’s reproduction presentation.
They had a parents’ night for those who had 4th and 5th graders so that the school could talk about what would be discussed with the kids, how it was going to happen, and review the movies that the classes will be viewing.
Can I just state how surprising it is to me that parents aren’t concerned about what their kids will be seeing in class? Out of a 150 kids, only about 25 adults showed up, and some of them were married to each other. I’d say only about 14 families were represented... out of 150! A shocker for me. I just can’t see letting your kids go through school and never questioning or viewing what your child sees or hears.
But then again, I have to remember that I am part of the small percentile of parents who actually feel that it is my responsibility to raise my kids, not the school’s or my church’s or Hollywood’s or the television shows’ or the neighbor’s next door. That is so sad.
I found the meeting helpful. The nurse discussed how they two sexes will be separate, they’ll have a talk that most of them will not want to hear, they’ll watch a movie about their body, and then they’ll ask if there are any questions, and no one will raise their hands because no one will want to talk about it. They mostly want to get outside for recess. I think she nailed it on the head.
We reviewed the material and I watched the movie they will be showing the girls. I think I learned a thing or two myself…
Also, I think, “Is it really that time already?”At the end of last summer, I had the discussion with my daughter about periods, about how boys differ from girls and how babies are made. She seemed reluctant to hear any of it at first, but then she was inquisitive and then she wanted to know if she could have a popsicle.
Like mother, like daughter. I’m pretty sure I was the same way at nine. Heck, I can be the same way now. Only now instead of the popsicle, I want chocolate chip cookie dough.
Labels: Family
posted by Shalee at 12:18 PM
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