The other day there was a mix up at the end of the day with one of our third grade students. He was supposed to take the bus home but somehow wound up in the car line. No big deal.
The challenge here though was that this kid's family was from the Ukraine and the only person who spoke any English in the family was the kid's mom. The mom was an extremely attractive woman, with a great figure in all senses, and complimented such with a trendy wardrobe that generally included plenty of short skirts, high heels, and low cut tops.
It took us a while to track the mom down. She was coming back from the airport and couldn't get to the school to pick her son up for about 30 minutes. We assured her that he was fine and got the boy a snack while he waited. I sent the secretaries home since we were having an Open House with ice cream served for kids that night and I knew they probably wanted to freshen up before coming back to work.
I was working in my office when the boy, Viktor, knocked and asked if he could throw his pretzel wrapper away. He sort of lingered in my office, acting like he wanted to chat (poor guy was probably bored as hell) so I initiated things.
"So ya comin' to the open house and ice cream social tonight?"
"Ah. No. No we can't make it" he replied.
"Well, ya can't make everything, right?"
"Well it's my mom's birthday today" he shared.
"Oh wow! So are you all going out for a nice dinner with mom?" I asked trying to apply the necessary enthusiasm surrounding birthdays that an eight year old would expect.
"No. My mom wanted to get a dance lesson for her birthday."
"Oh neat! Are you going with her?" I asked.
"No. It's a tango lesson" he explained.
"Ah. So probably just mom and dad for that one, right?" I said.
"No. My mom broke up with my dad. She told me it's a private tango lesson."
Don't wait up, kid.