Dear Elli,
I'm raging mad right now. I cannot actually remember the last time I was this furious.
You failed your spelling test today. The spelling test that you worked so hard to study for this week. The same test that you were so excited to take this morning. I quizzed you last night. I gave you two practice tests, of which you proudly took to school today to show your teacher how hard you've been working.
You did not fail your spelling test because you misspelled words. In fact, each word was spelled perfectly. It was freaking flawless.
You failed your spelling test because you wrote the words on the wrong lines. The page was numbered from top to bottom in two columns instead of left to right, like you're used to. So of your ten correctly spelled words, you only got credit for two of them.
So guess what? You failed.
I'm not normally a person who whines about the injustice of the world. I'm aware of the unfair nature of life, and I'm not a fan of sugar-coated bullshit. But give me a damn break. This is ridiculous.
Apparently it is necessary to demoralize a six year old for not understanding the number sequence on a page. Apparently it is okay to fail a first grader on a spelling test for something that has nothing at all to do with spelling. And apparently it is acceptable to discourage a young student from the joy of learning, and the feeling of achievement when they've mastered something new.
You didn't see your test score because I didn't show you. I told you that you got a 100 percent. Because, as far as I'm concerned, you did.
I preach to you over and over again that hard work results in positive results. And it does. I won't allow that to be an untruth in your mind. So I lied to you about your test score. And that's a damn shame.
I was so furious that I cried. I'm embarrassed to admit that I reacted so passionately about a first grade spelling test. But I did. I hid in the kitchen and cried tears of pure rage for about two minutes before I collected myself. I realize that's kind of insane, and I'm sorry. Being a mom makes me a little crazy I guess.
I can't protect you from the ridiculous injustices that occur in life, and that is very frustrating to me. But I will not march into the school waving your spelling test around and yelling like a psycho. That wouldn't benefit either one of us in any way. The best thing I can do is prepare you the best way I know how. So next week we will study the various ways in which a page can be numbered, along with your spelling word list.
And so help me God, you're going to get your 100 percent next week. For real this time.
In the meantime, I'm going to drink wine and use foul language. All while spelling every damn word in this letter correctly.
I love you more than anything.
Mom
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