Hard knock life

Your retirement account is in free-fall, the job market is not pretty and the only economic indicator that is not through the floor is the price of pretty much everything your family needs. (What do those Cheerios people think they are selling anyway?)  

But have you ever stopped to think about how much worse it is for other people? Is your life really harder, for example, than a fifth grader's?

Of course it isn't. This was made heart-breakingly clear to us during Parents Night, where the members of Mrs. A's tragically overworked, under-appreciated fifth-grade class left us their essays on "What's So Hard About Being a Kid..."

By the time we had finished reading, there was not a dry eye in the room. You'd have to be made of stone not to choke up at one girl's poignant account of being dragged around to places she did not want to go.

"Like if I was going to the movies and someone in my family had to go and get stitches, I wouldn't be able to go to the movies," she wrote. "True story," she added.

 My God, we thought, stealing glances at the poor girl's mother, what kind of parent does that?

"My daughter basically called me an asshole," observed one mother, whose little martyr wrote of being constantly sent to her room, despite heroic efforts to be good. "It's never good enough," the girl wrote in despair.

But she was not alone in her suffering. Another class member wrote of being forced to clean behind her ears and eat vegetables.  "Sometimes, it gets really annoying," she wrote.

We read on, our mouths falling open at brutally vivid accounts of 21st century sweatshops in the suburbs. 

"Along with homework, I have to do dishes, fold laundry, etc...," wrote one exhausted little girl. "It's tough. Really tough being me."

You had me at "etc."

Hardest of all, was knowing this was my own daughter's account of her Cinderella-like existence.

"You need everything done for you," she wrote accusingly. "Do the dishes, fold the laundry, clean the bathrooms. There's one tiny speck of dirt on my window ... while you're at, clean all the windows!"

No one has ever cleaned the windows at my house, but that is beside the point. Apparently. 

Photo: Cinderella Fifth Grader.

Comments

[Rattling the Kettle]

At least you have windows. I had to sell mine last week to cover a margin call. Rough times.

[Paulita]

I feel your pain. In addition to slaving away, (I asked my 12-year-old to pick up his wet towel!) I'm also guilty of paying low wages, only $40 a month allowance.

[Paulita]

BTW, hard-knock life is Annie. You're mixing your movie studios. Kind of like mixing metaphors.

[Suburban Kamikaze]

This was Annie, Cinderella and Oliver all rolled into one...

SK

[Sue]

Did the teacher show these to the parents for laughs, or was this followed by a discussion with a social worker? You never know, these days.

[MommyTime]

These are priceless. My sister, at about age eight, once called my mother a "slave-driver" over her chores. It was very hard for the poor woman not to laugh out loud at her. I'm with Sue on this one, though: I hope the teacher gets that these are hilarious.

['cuz I'm the mommy, that's why]

Mine are true slave: pick up toys, make beds, brush their teeth and wash their nasty hair. And what do they get out of the deal? A bed to sleep in, food to eat (which is sometimes nutritious, and dare I say it? Yummy). No allowance, but what do they need money for, I buy them everything they need and some of what they want. So glad I wasn't an ungrateful wraith when i was a kid...yeah, right.

[Leanne]

Yes, I am constantly accused of being 'a neat freak' these days. Picking up those wet towels off the floor. We are just horrible. Grrrr.