More Unpleasantness

I didn't beat up my daughter, tonight, but I thought about it. Not physically, of course. But verbally, yeah -- I thought about it.

She came in to Talk To Me About Her Grades. Oh, crap, I thought.

Well, it wasn't absolutely terrible news. She'd gotten As and Bs -- but some of the Bs were low Bs, because she'd forgotten to hand in assignments, or did them poorly. And so instead of First Honors, which she's gotten every period up to now, she got Second. And I don't have the stomach -- didn't have the stomach; still don't -- to say Oh, thats okay, you tried. Because to me, not turning things in, not reading directions means she didn't try, not hard enough. Remember what I said about How do you know if that damn agenda book is actually working? Remember my thoughts about the effectiveness of student-led conferences, held when grades are handed out? I consider this to be proof positive of the correctness of my suspicion -- that these concepts are a politically correct failure. Useful and valuable in concept; dismal in execution.

The temptation was to say some very cutting remarks. I came close. I didn't, but I came close. I knew that I'd say something that I'd regret, even if it were true. But boy, did I want to.

She's not getting away scot free from this. I just need to back off a little until just thinking about it doesn't irritate the hell out of me. Which at the moment, it does. After I cool down, we'll figure out how to handle this. For the moment, we'll let it lie.

She knows I'm --disappointed? More than that.

Some mentor I'll be.

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Update:
We talked, briefly. I told her that I knew she was smart, and that this didn't change that. I told her that we would figure out what to do, together. And that no matter what, I still loved her. She seemed apprehensive when she came in; somewhat relieved, afterward. As for me -- well, I'm still a little ticked, but I'm working on it.