These last two weeks have been what my mother would call a mare’s nest. Miss Ward never came back after Memorial Day weekend, if you can believe it. She must have been planning all along to leave then. I should have known from that hug.
The children were very confused when they wandered into room 147 on the Tuesday after the long weekend and found a note from Miss Ward written on the Smart Board. Only about a third of them could actually understand it. According to Max, Suni Chang saved the day by reading it aloud to the class. The note explained that her work here was done, that they were all going to be wonderful first-graders and she had to move on to a new group of kindergarteners who needed her … just like Mary Poppins. She wrote that! Just like Mary Poppins. Go fly a kite, Miss Ward.
The school had to scramble to make sure her class was covered for the final two weeks. Most of the moms took a turn co-teaching with Principal Jakowski, who showed no indication that he had ever spent any real time in a classroom. My shout-out to Ali and Don was from the heart. They came in together, which I was surprised and happy to see, and the kids loved them. They created all these amazing learning games that were really fun (all this according to Max, whose favorite was something called What’s in the Bag?). I can’t help but wonder if my chat with Ali kick-started a little something between them. Probably not, but it’s more fun for me to think that it did.
I found it a bit out of character for Miss Ward to leave without giving the kids any kind of closure. I’ve said it before, she was a bit of a wack-job but a great teacher. The kids were sad that they didn’t get a chance to say good-bye to her or their beloved classmate Nancy Fancy, who (big shocker!) didn’t come back, either. I can only assume they’re all happily ensconced somewhere in Manhattan or New Jersey.
I kept the promise I made on Max’s life, but about a week after JJ Aikens swore me to secrecy, she started telling anyone who would listen. It was quite the topic at the klatch, let me tell you. And, like any good story, it got better with each telling. My personal favorite was when Shirleen Cobb said she heard that Miss Ward and the Fancys were making porn together. When I asked her what kind of porn, she said, “The un-American kind.”
The only secret that actually stayed a secret was the real identity of Sasha Lewicki. Of course, I did tell Asami (I mean, who else would really care?), and she could not have been more magnanimous when she said, “I told you so.” I have to give her full props. She totally called it.
Right now I have to dash to Party City to get water balloons for one of the games we’ll be playing at the picnic tomorrow. That party will be my final duty as class mom and, I have to admit, the thought chokes me up a little bit.
I debate sharing this with Nina when I see her at the picnic tomorrow. Ever since she re-upped as PTA president, she has been dropping little hints about me being a class mom again. She hasn’t come right out and asked me yet, but I know she will. And when she does, I’m pretty sure I know what I’ll tell her.
“Absofuckinglutely not!”
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To: The parents of Mrs. Peele’s 1st grade class
From: JDixon
Date: 8/30
Subject: I’m your class mom!
Dear Parents,
For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Jennifer Dixon, and it is my pleasure (wink) to be your class mom for this coming year.
To the parents who were with me last year in kindergarten, all I can say is you’ve made it through boot camp already. You know the rules and you can stop reading this now. See you on curriculum night, which is (see below).
To the rest of you, make sure to read every damn word of this email …
* * *
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, I’d like to acknowledge Beinstock/UTA super-agent Paul Fedorko, who convinced me that all my whining about being a class parent might actually make a good book. Thank you for not only encouraging me but also shaming me by saying “Danielle Steel isn’t too busy to write and she has more kids than you.”
While writing Class Mom, I had no idea that the five most dreaded words a friend of the author can hear are “Will you read my book?” Thankfully, I had a bevy of generous souls who were more than willing to read various drafts and give me feedback, and for that I am grateful. The most loyal of these was my paid professional friend Gabrielle Maertz. If Gabby hadn’t laughed in all the right places, I never would have kept writing beyond the first forty pages. Others who gave me their time and wisdom: My forever sister/friends Maria Crocitto, Nancy Bennet and Cindy Vervaeke. Alison Cody who lived the whole nightmare with me. Jessica Aguirre who printed out all 360 pages and lugged it around until she finished it, God bless her. Paige Baldwin, who told me that Jen needed a goal. Sheri Impemba who was the first to read it and ask me if she could let her friends read it too. Jan Weiner who let me use a very sweet story about her son Caden, and Caroline Rhea, who gave me the funniest line in the book (“I’ll let you decide which one it is).
Thank you to Serena Jones, my editor at Holt, who had the scary task of telling me that the fruits of my two-year labor of love needed rewrites. There is an old joke that goes, “How many writers does it take to change a lightbulb?” Answer: “It doesn’t need changing!” But indeed it did, and Serena’s razor-sharp insights and gentle nudging made Class Mom a much better story.
And finally, thank you to the Starbucks at Eighty-Eighth and Broadway for allowing me to use your café as my writing room and for always having the PB-and-J lunchbox and iced green tea that fueled my creativity.