(In kindergarten I was somewhat of an advanced reader, so my teachers occasionally had a hard time finding books for me to read. At one point, I had been given “A Series of Unfortunate Events”, which is somewhat of a disturbing book for a five-year-old. When I came home in tears after beginning to read it, my mom had to have a talk with the teacher who recommended it. This is what happens.)

Mom: “Why did you recommend this book to my son? He read it and started crying!”

Teacher: “Really? How come?”

Mom: “What do you mean how come? The main characters are imprisoned with an evil uncle who basically tortures them!”

Teacher: “Oh, I didn’t know that.”

Mom: “What? How could you not know?”

Teacher: “I didn’t read it first, if that’s what you mean. I had no idea.”

Mom: “Why didn’t you read it? What if it had something rude in it?”

Teacher: “Oh, I figured the plot didn’t matter as long as it was his reading level.”

Mom: “WHAT? How could the plot not matter!? You never should have given him that book!”

Teacher: “But it was his reading level…”

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(I am in kindergarten and my mother has come in to discuss why my writing skills were marked “needs improvement” on my report card.)

Mom: “I’m really curious about why you gave [My Name] such a low mark. As far as I can tell his spelling is great and he prints very clearly.”

Teacher: “I know, in those regards he is definitely above average but I’m afraid he doesn’t know how to hold a pencil.”

Mother: *confused* “What are you talking about? He obviously knows how to hold a pencil, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to write.”

Teacher: “He holds it with his thumb and middle finger instead of his second finger.”

(While this is an unusual way to hold a pencil, it should be noted that my father does the same thing. My mom was absolutely fuming from learning this was why my writing grade was so low. After hearing this, she called my father and told him to come to the school immediately. When he arrived, she explained the situation to him and made my teacher watch him write a sentence on a piece of paper. That seemed to clear things up as my report card got edited to show “excellent” for writing skills.)

(My daughter will be entering kindergarten this fall. Her school hosts a playground “meet and greet” for all incoming kindergarteners, which happens to be the day before her birthday. She is chatting with another little girl.)

Girl: “I’m four. How old are you?”

Daughter: “I’m four and a half. But tomorrow I’ll be five!”

Girl: *with great exuberance* “When I’m five, I get to have GUM!”

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(My mom is a German teacher, and runs an exchange program. This means she goes to Germany for almost a month every two years, and has taught me German from birth. I have just turned six, and she takes me with her on that trip. Having no childcare overseas, she talks to colleagues and gets me temporarily put in a German kindergarten rather than have me be bored in the high school classes she runs. My German skills are good, which is great because English isn’t yet taught to kids that young in Germany, but I’m socially awkward.)

Kindergarten Teacher: “So, class, we have a special visitor joining us for a few weeks, from America!” *to me* “Can you say something in another language, dear?”

(English isn’t another language, as I speak English and German with no problems. So I wrack my brain, and come up with something I had heard at an assembly before my US school let out.)

Me: *sings children’s song… in Swahili*

Kindergarten Teacher: “I meant… ‘hello’ or something! In English!”

(My niece is being registered for kindergarten. She’s just been adopted a few weeks before and her first and last name were changed. My sister is using her brand new birth certificate to register her.)

Teacher: “Okay, honey, we’re going to go look at the kindergarten room while mom fills out your forms, okay?”

Niece: “Sure.”

(Once they are out of sight of my sister:)

Teacher: “What’s your name?”

Niece: “Emily. It used to be Casey but now it’s Emily. My new mom changed it so my old mom won’t find me.”

Teacher: “Really? Why did you get a new mom?”

Niece: “Because my new mom wanted me so she took me!”

(At this point the teacher calls the police. My sister is sitting in the office, filling out the forms when they arrive.)

Police: “Who is here to register Casey?”

Sister: “Her name is Emily.” *explains whole situation*

Police: “Can you prove that?”

(My sister hands him the birth certificate but did not bring the adoption papers with her.)

Police: “I’m going to have to take you both to the station until you can provide the adoption papers.”

(At this point I wander in to drop off some papers. I’m just another parent. I greet my sister.)

Police: “Do you know this woman?”

Me: “Yes. That’s my sister.”

Police: “So you know Casey?”

Me: “Her name is Emily. She was just adopted and her name was changed.”

Police: “OH! Okay, that’s fine. Sorry about the bother. You can just go ahead and process her registration.”

(I think everyone in the office was stunned.)