Have I mentioned that I love my son’s school?
(That’s rhetorical. I most certainly have mentioned it. A lot. Don’t believe me? Read the archives. Too lazy? Then take my word for it and keep reading, smart-mouth.)
I love that school.
They’re big on character. Academics are important, but so is raising decent little people. This school is trying to raise Future Community Members.
People who do the right thing. Who work hard.
Who care about their environment.
I think that’s wonderful. Because I’ll level with you; I’m not the most “green” chick you’ll ever meet.
I’ve thrown aluminum cans in the trash without a pang of guilt. I routinely feed my kids non-organic food. And I mourn the movement away from a simpler time, when Round-Up was a good idea.
I’m trying to get better. I AM getting better. And that is thanks in no small part to the efforts of the school, via my son.
They’re even trying to make things easier on dinosaurs like me. They’ll take batteries. Our city has a kick-ass recycling program that makes it incredibly easy; no sorting, everything recyclable goes into a blue bag, right beside the regular garbage on trash day. But batteries can’t go in the Blue Bag. They don’t belong in the landfill, either. So the school collects these batteries, and takes them to the appropriate eco-station, to be handled in whatever way dead batteries are handled.
Also cool is the fact that they want to recognize kids for their efforts. When a student brings in something to be recycled, they are invited to write their name in a log book, so that their “Act of Green” can be counted.
And therein lies the…ahem…rub.
Because all last year, I saved our dead batteries. And I really, really intended to take them into the school. But one battery became 10, and all of a sudden:
Now, I know, and you know, those are all from toys. And we both know that’s not a euphemism for anything.
But I don’t know if I can go into that school again, and be expected to make any kind of eye contact with the teachers, if The Boy proudly recycles a metric butt-load of used D batteries.
That his mom gave him.