To rephrase a famous line from Dazed and Confused: “That’s what I like about these mothers, man. I get older; they stay the same age.”

Today was parent’s day at the school where I work which means 1) I wore a tie and 2) parents were free to wander in and out of classes at their whim and 3) many students suddenly denied three times that they even knew their parents. (When that happened several years ago, the mother, who spoke excellent English, promised, in so many words, that her son would be punished.)

One of the things I’ve noticed over my years as a teacher (approaching 26 years, in various forms) is that because my students are always the same ages, their parents are usually about the same ages. Seventh grade parents are in their early to mid-30s and 10th grade parents are in their mid-30’s . The problem is, every year they seem to look a bit younger than they are.

It’s the same reaction you have when you see high school kids and junior high kids and 1) realize how young they are and 2) remember how old you used to feel when you were their age. (You, of course, were a lot smarter than these kids. These kids are morons.)

Complicating matters, the mothers tend to dress up and do their hair and make-up perfectly as a part of parent’s day is putting on a show for other parents. This also makes them look younger than they are.

I only had a few visitors, one of whom may have been a homeroom teacher, because the biggest turnout happens on Saturday.

Occasionally fathers show up on a weekday, but that can be a mixed blessing. Today a father committed the ultimate sin. He came into class and after a minute of resistance, walked over and spoke to his son. The other students reacted with uncomfortable laughs and I felt sorry for them both. The father stayed for most of the lesson, even during the part where students wrote conversations. But then, after a while he seemed to get bored and left for a while.

It was during this absence that his son pounced, so to speak. One of my rules is that if you perform your memorized conversation on the day of the assignment you get bonus points. As soon at the coast was clear and the father gone, the son volunteered to do the conversation (his partner wasn’t as happy but did a good job).

I understand why the son did this, but kind of wish his father had been there. It would have made him happy and made him think more positive thoughts about me (the parents are allowed to officially evaluate us). Instead I announced those who already had bonus points to let him know he’d missed something by stepping out.

On the other hand, by embarrassing his son like that, he probably deserved to be punished a little.

Next year I’ll do it all again, but the mothers will be even younger.