Bad Mommy

Normally, in writing, I try to make myself look good, but I'm no saint. Lilia has decided to live in a box because she is hurt and angry with me. It all started with the homework (my bete noire). As usual, she has a lot, and today, for some reason, she couldn't apply herself. It didn't seem all that difficult to me, but she just couldn't get it. She's learning to tell time at school. My son has a hard time with telling time, too. Anyway, she was goofing off, kept dropping her pencil, and then just sat there doing nothing. I lost my temper. We have spent an hour and a half on homework (or rather not doing homework) so far, and she's done only about a fifth of it.

I was already in a cranky mood because my son's dour and humorless new teacher, who seems exceptionally lacking in the social graces (not even a konnichiwa!), told me that Jio shouldn't bring all his books to school every day as he has been. Lilia's teachers are always saying that she should take responsibility for what goes into her bag every day, so I figured the goal of Japanese education was self-reliance. It appears, however, that in Jio's new teacher's eyes, I am not measuring up. School, I realize, is all about the mothers.