So I stop into the school’s transportation office to let them know that again this year my kids will be getting on the bus at my house, but off at their mom’s. I explained to the lady why I was there, and she promptly handed me two thick forms and told me I needed to complete a form for each kid, and take them to the office next door. She reminded me that these are 5-copy forms, so I needed to press hard with the pen.<\/p>\n
I stared at the forms for a second while my mind tried to reconcile a world that includes so many databases and photocopy machines with one that still manufactures quintuplicate carbon forms. But no matter.<\/p>\n
I then asked if it was possible to just write that this was exactly the same as last year and sign the form at the bottom. But I was told that no, I would need to fill out the whole form as all 5 copies were needed. I wondered briefly if last year’s 5 copies had been ground up for use as meatloaf filler for the cafeteria, but the bottom line was that my most expedient path was to just start writing. And I did.<\/p>\n
Upon completing the forms and shaking off the nascent writer’s cramp, I proceeded to the next office where I found a helpful lady behind a desk. I said, “Hi”, and handed her the forms. She scanned them quickly and then began leafing through a large computer print-out that was on her desk. She located my two boys, glanced back and forth to the forms a couple of times and asked, “This is the same as last year?”<\/p>\n
“Uh huh”<\/p>\n
And I see her take her pen and write “same” next to each kid’s name. She thanks me, and as I’m going out the door I see her take the 5-part forms and slip them into the recycle bucket.<\/p>\n
The next time someone asks why the quality of public education has gone to hell, I’m going to blame it on the fact that their graduates work there.<\/p>\n