Dear teachers, the email should say, I apologise if there is any possibility that I've hurt your feelings. Someone significant who might be cc'ed on this email indicated that I had - or might have - and suggested that I avoid talking to other parents about the possibility that the Eldest is occasionally bored in class. I should have talked to you, instead.
Because I'm not so subtly trying to let the Someone know that we have already discussed this, and that I'm a nice person who knows that teachers are an excellent resource, let me take this particular moment to note that I truly appreciate that you responded to the Eldest's request that you teach a certain subject in a certain way. You rock. Also, thanks for ramping up on the math - and can we ease off now? You know that I know that "bored" isn't necessarily a synonym for "too smart to need to learn this stuff," and yep, the kid didn't know how to solve all of the sixth grade math problems that got sent home with him.
Partly because he doesn't know what prime numbers are - or so saith the Man. Given this, yes please, let's have that meeting to talk about what the kid can and can't do.
And on the subject of what he can't do, thank you for being tolerant while the Eldest honed his newly discovered talents of class pain-in-the-ass. He's now quite certain that if he dislikes a subject (translation: "bored," variant 2.1), then he can be enough of a PIA to get himself tossed out of class. He told me all about the various strategies that he'd used to get himself chucked out, and was very proud. "First I flipped my chair over and sat on it, upside down. THAT's funny - it's an antic, you know. Then, I waved my hand hard when the teacher asked a question, but when she called on me, I said in this voice (oh, that voice), "I dunno." And then? I did it again." It is my hope that he now understands exactly how unacceptable this behavior is, and that while he regrows a variety of maternally-removed limbs, he appreciates your tolerance all the more.
Again, my apologies for checking around to see if other kids were a. bored and b. practicing the fine art of pain in the assness. I should have realized that asking such questions might imply that I was also considering heating up tar and gathering feathers - in truth, we're a feather-free* household for the foreseeable future. But I promise to let you know if that changes, and in the meantime hope that the above note both indicates that I honestly think that you are wonderful while demonstrates to the Someone who beheaded me telephonically this morning, that I appreciate you and yes, I did go and talk to you before consulting other, potentially feather-owning parents.
Sincerely and humbly apologetically, Me.
or something like that.
But since I haven't entirely de-snarked the above, I've been reading this thoughtful article on healthcare reform, by a local doc with a nice little pulpit. And then posting the link.
But having done so, I'm out of excuses and oughter go write that email. Sighhhh.
*thanks to the Toddles' feather allergy