Chasing Superwoman by Susan DiMickele

could go about requesting that he be placed in the appropriate first-grade class. She gave me a cold stare. The coffee had apparently worn off. She told me that, while I was welcome to visit the first-grade classes, parents are strongly discouraged from requesting a first-grade teacher. She promptly ended the discussion. If I had questions, I could talk to the principal.
    Unfortunately, I don’t have time to sit and observe first grade. Most mothers get their information the old-fashioned way. The mafia. I thought long and hard about approaching them. I also thought about what they would require in return. A potluck casserole? A committee designation for Family Fun Night? An afternoon campaigning for the upcoming levy? I got scared just thinking about it. So I decided to use a few connections of my own.
    Enter Lady Lawyer
    Lady Lawyer had just given a modest but noticeable gift to the law school, so I called one of the law professors to ask her opinion of the first-grade teachers since she has two sons just senior to Nick. Most parents are very opinionated about their children’s teachers, and she was no exception. She had the first-grade teachers ranked by enthusiasm, teaching style, creativity, and overall classroom management. The good news? I didn’t have to consult the mafia. I had all the information I needed.
    Lady Lawyer decided to write a letter to the principal. Spiritual Mommy thought about letting it go, praying about it, and resisting the desire to manipulate the system. After all, God is in control of first grade, isn’t He? I’ve never been very good at giving up control when it comes to my children. Lady Lawyer was overpowering. So I tossed up a few prayers and wrote the letter. I sent the principal a pleasant email, introducing myself, complimenting Nick’s kindergarten teacher and the wonderful experience he had had at the school. I then proceeded to explain the type of first-grade teacher I wanted for my son and ranked the first-grade teachers in order of preference. I ended the email by including “Esquire” after my name, with my law firm signature line. I can’t stand it when other lawyers do this. It’s downright tacky to use my professional status to wield power at the grade school. But when it comes to my kids, I’ll break my own rules. So I rationalize. If I can’t be there volunteering, I can at least use what influence I have to get Nick the best teacher.
    I had so much fun volunteering for Nick’s birthday that I decided to do it again the last day of school. I even signed up to plan the last-day-of-school party. The day before the last day of school, I emailed Nick’s teacher to see what I needed to do. Apparently, the party had already been planned, and I had deleted the emails telling me what to bring. In any event, she was pleased to have another set of hands and told me I was welcome to show up. Nick was thrilled, and I took the entire day off work.
    On the last day of school, the kids have a swim party and meet their first-grade teachers. Not only had Nick been placed in the class I had requested, he was placed with two of his very best friends. Nick was beaming. Over half the kindergarten mothers were present on the last day of school, most of them eager to find out about first-grade teachers. I overheard several remarks about Nick and his friends being placed in the same class with the school’s top-notch first-grade teacher. “I wonder how that happened,” one mother said to another. The mafia was in an uproar. Another mother mentioned under her breath but loud enough to be heard that it was complete taboo to request a teacher, and the principal never honors such requests. I bit my tongue and smiled.
    First grade is even more complicated. Nick brings home a red homework folder every night. He usually has nightly homework in reading and basic math. Spelling homework is always assigned each Monday and due on Thursday. By