Today was Anna's Parent/Teacher conference, and usually it's a breeze so I wasn't nervous at all. Anna is advanced for her age, and this has been the case for her whole life.
Let me say this again, people: "Pride goeth before the fall."~ Praphrased, God.
Anywho, you would think that having your daughter's second grade teacher start the conference off by asking if you have gotten Spanish by Rosetta Stone. It turns out that a classmate complained to the teacher that Anna was cursing at them and calling them bad names in Spanish.
The teacher did some investigating to find that Anna feels like the only way she can get back at some of the kids in her class is to call them names. En Espanol. Mrs. Moore explained to Anna that there are other options to explore, like for instance walking away. She did say that Anna has shown growth in this area and has deployed this tactic on more than one occasion, which shows that Anna is very mature for her age.
I explained that we don't commonly share curse words in Spanish ( though secretly I kicked myself-while blushing wildly- for having shared more than a fair share of the English versions), and that Anna had a secret language when she was younger, and that she would babble when feeling uncomfortable and shy. One of these words, actually and unfortunately one of her favorite words, just happened to be the Spanish word for B*TCH, and that we were very clear on the fact that it shouldn't be said.
Still to this day, when being annoyed by her sister, she lets out a tirade of gibberish and sometimes this word will pop out, without her even realizing. We gently remind her to not use that one. But I explained that Anna is fully aware of what the word means, and that she isn't supposed to say it.
The teacher says, "OH, so she really DID use a bad word. Well, I wanted to say, 'Teach me, I wanna know!'" After which of course our country club laughs could be heard pealing through the hallways.
It also turns out that Anna is a talker ( we know this), that she is messy (we know this too) and made of list of supplies she needs for class, and her teacher was kind enough to point out that everything she needs is probably under 3 feet of school papers.
Last, but not least, I say (type rather) with a heavy sigh that it has come to our attention that our daughter has an odd and advanced sense of humor. Sometimes the other kids don't get her when she is being funny *OH GOD*, and the Mrs. Moore tries to not only sooth the poor classmate that Anna has emotionally decimated by drawing humorous pictures of *OH GOD, it's all my fault... how is it possible that my cheeks are burning MORE* while not crushing Anna's spirit... and sometimes, just sometimes, the other kids don't get her sarcastic sense of humor at all. * OH. MY. GOD. I have made my poor child guilty by association. She has gleaned everything she knows of this world from me, and as my husband so succinctly put it, she has been swimming in a sea of sarcasm from day one... my daughter is a dork*