BY ELIZABETH BASTOS

PEAS VALLEY, MD -- The Orrfield Gully School in Peas Valley yesterday became the first private school in the state to outlaw marching band.

"We'll allow a drum corps," said the Headmaster, B.C. McClarendon, class of '48, "but that's as far as we feel it's healthy for our student body to go."

He added that Orrfield alumni become captains of industry, finance, law, and medicine because of the school's solid football program, "not because they studied the glockenspiel or tuba."

"What I've learned through re-education is that the tuba is a ridiculous instrument. The place for it is at Oktoberfest, in an oompah band,” said Chloe Van Sant, former faculty liaison to the marching band. She now heads up the school's recycling program and is, she says, glad for the break from incessant rehearsals in the rain in the dark wooded area behind the school's incinerator where she had been forced to relocate practice after the band was kicked off campus -- before being outright outlawed.

"The only place for low-self-esteem is the art classrooms, and we still grudgingly offer art," Patrice Long, dean of Parent Re-Education and Relations said. In Long's opinion it's misguided. "Some parents still want their kids to draw, paint, and 'think outside the box,' but the box at Orrfield is great."

Elizabeth Bastos is a stay-at-home mother of two under five. Before having kids, she worked in corporate and foundation relations, and before that at the Museum of Science, Boston. She moonlights writing in the very early mornings before everyone gets up and wants things. In the little free time she has, Elizabeth makes complicated French patries to tempt her kids into doing what she asks. Her work has appeared in Terrain.org, The Delmarva Review, McSweeney's Internet Tendency, Tar River Poetry, and the Baltimore City Paper. Beginning in May, Elizabeth will have her own column on errant parent. Visit her blog: www.goodybastos.blogspot.com. Elizabeth can be reached at: elizabeth.bastos@gmail.com.

BY SUE MARRA BYHAM

SNOOTVILLE, PA -- Simon Sed, the notorious "Coal Dad" and Snootville father of four, was indicted yesterday on disorderly conduct following a fracas at the Prisci Pre-School attended by his youngest son.

The Sed child (whose name has been withheld due to age and vulnerability, although experts agree he has already been scarred for life) precipitated events by bringing a lump of coal to school and frightening the other students during naptime with a lurid tale about ruined holidays. The lump had been obtained by his father at an old railroad crossing and placed on the family dinner table the previous evening.

"Few children have ever seen a lump of coal," Mr. Sed explained to police in an attempt to defend his heinous behavior. "I presented one to my children as an object lesson."

In fact, Simon Sed had threatened his offspring with the Christmas-morning receipt of a single lump of coal presented in one of his unwashed socks and nailed to a brick-colored cabinet (which, according to his estranged wife Lou Sed, was all the stingy S.O.B. could provide in the way of a fireplace).

The child's teacher acted quickly to both confiscate the coal and call in the school's child psychologist. And according to a statement read by the teacher at a meeting of concerned parents: "It is true that three couples -- whose first-born are suffering from recurring nightmares about a Christmas without largesse -- have negotiated a settlement to pay for psychiatric care, but rumors that the school will close due to the expense of defending a class action lawsuit are unfounded."

In a school meeting immediately following the incident, Mr. Sed insisted he had never intended for his son to be a proselytizer, "much less a smuggler," and he accused the school of being lax in providing the sort of security "that made it possible for a child to enter the building with a lump of coal hidden in his stocking cap."

Prisci's Principal countered with: "It's the responsibility of the parent to search the child for ordinary objects. Strip searches at Prisci are weapons-focused only."

At which point Mr. Sed hit the Principal with the lump of coal and had to be restrained by several witnesses.

A letter sent to prospective parents on the school's waiting list referred to the security breach that had resulted in so much misery to so many innocents: "In a firm response to the urging of a horrified community, we have determined that effective following the Christmas break, all toddlers entering the school will be strip-searched. And their parents will be also."

Simon Sed has vowed to appeal his conviction, claiming religious persecution. "My wife and I are atheists who believe strongly in Santa and retribution," he said.

The child's new foster parents have removed him from the Prisci School to an undisclosed location in New England for an experimental therapy involving total immersion in the accepted holiday traditions, including compulsory gift-giving without judgmental prejudice.

"Let us say once and for all that there are no 'bad' children," said a lawyer representing the parents of the three most grievously debilitated youngsters. "To suggest otherwise, especially with minors present, is unconscionable."

Mr. Sed's lawyer responded: "If there is such a thing as a quaint holiday tradition, surely the receipt of a stocking with a lump of coal in the toe is it."

Recriminations and retaliations are expected from one and all.

Sue Marra Byham is the Grand Prize Winner of our Holiday Fake News Contest! Sue receives $50, errant parent merchandise, and Kentucky bourbon! Sue lives with her family and other wildlife in a backyard habitat where Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Delaware collide. She has twice been honorably mentioned in The Year's Best Fantasy and attributes her ability to sneak a little fantasy into everything she writes (even CD liner notes) to the fact that as a child her adoring parents smothered her with Christmas gifts and refrained from making any serious or lengthy references to coal. Sue can be reached at: byham@kennett.net

BY KATHRYN A. HIGGINS

PURCHASE, NY -- A family of four survived their annual pilgrimage to visit relatives on the West Coast last year, but just barely.

"It wasn't the crowded airports or the cost of tickets or the broken-down rental car which was the last one the rental company had," explained Sue Smith, mother of two. "It was my husband's family. For a while there, I wasn't sure we'd make it."

After checking to make sure her husband was out of earshot she continued. "Every November we load our kids into the car and drive to JFK airport -- a nightmare in itself -- to take a plane to Oregon for our annual visit with my husband's family. We visit his elderly mother, who lives with his sister and her husband."

After a long day's travel, the family checks into a hotel and then heads to their sister-in-law's house, which serves as home base during their visit.

"There's no place to even sit in their house," announced Emily, 12, who was shushed by her mother. The sister-in-law's house's amenities include a couch with broken springs, two Swedish chairs with sharp wooden arms, and piles of paper that haven't been picked up for years. In addition, the brother-in-law is an Emergency Preparedness fanatic, so he's storing the town's arsenal of crisis equipment in his house. "You could do surgery with the amount of stuff he has," said Smith.

To make matters worse, the in-laws make regular trips to Costco and store gargantuan packs of toiletries, paper goods, cleaning supplies, snack foods, and jumbo jars of peanuts in the back bedroom.

"When we're there with our two kids there’s no place to sit," said Smith. "Besides the broken couch and uncomfortable chairs, the family room is monopolized by a 72" flat screen TV, which is ironic because my brother-in-law says 'Oh, I don't watch TV much -- just a little History Channel.'"

Except for Thanksgiving dinner, the Smith family must eat out every meal because their in-laws don't cook, despite the fact that the kitchen is crammed with goods.

"You have to pry the refrigerator door open because the handle has been broken for a year. It's full of stuff. God-only-knows-what because they don't cook, except for my mother-in-law's Lean Cuisines," said Smith. "You can't even find the light bulb in refrigerator because it's so full of ancient bottles of stuff. There is a dusty lazy susan full of spices next to the stove but I’m not sure how long since it’s been used.

"Over the long weekend, we have hamburgers at least five times. And when we're not preparing to go to a restaurant, eating at a restaurant, or returning from a restaurant, we're either at the mall or a movie, because there's no place to go in the house," Smith sighed. "It's exhausting."

Smith's 31-year-old niece-in-law recently moved back home with her parents to pursue yet another degree, so the visiting family has to vacate posthaste whenever the niece is tired because she sleeps on the living room couch.

"She has to sleep there because her room is full of Amway stuff her mother sells or used to sell," said Smith. "They also store the piano in her room; it's covered with the personal care products."

If the traveling and the exhaustion and the hamburgers and the dust weren't enough to kill them, the Smith family has to be polite and gracious and helpful throughout the torturous three-day visit.

"My face hurts from fake smiling," said Smith. "And whenever I offer to help we have to perform this stupid charade: first they say no, then they acquiesce, and then I'm stuck trying to put things away in the kitchen-from-hell. It's nerve-wracking. Don't tell my husband, but when I'm there I feel like I could shoot somebody."

Smith's husband, who is the reason for the life-threatening annual visits, is oblivious to the potentially fatal torment suffered by his wife and children. "He golfs a lot," said Smith. "And he likes hamburgers. But those hamburgers will get him sooner or later."

It wasn't always this bad. "The year before last, my sister-in-law revolted and demanded her husband move some of the stuff out of the garage. So, he moved it all to one of the bedrooms and now she can park her Toyota in the garage for the first time in 30 years," said Smith. "But the house got even worse."

"It's bad for us, but I feel sorry for my mother-in-law. She's been living there for two years and they still haven't taken their stuff out of her little bedroom."

Smith has already booked her family's trip for this year. "I have to. It's a family obligation," she said bravely. "But I intend to survive the Survivalists. This year I'm bringing narcotics."

Kathryn A. Higgins is writer and mom living with her two children in Connecticut. She recently received her MFA in Writing from Sarah Lawrence College. Her publishing credits include: McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, Real Simple Magazine, Health.com, Sanskrit, Farmhousemagazine.com, Whatever, and Musings; she has also written a regular column for the Connecticut Post, as well as features for various newspapers, and is a Reader for the Paris Review. You can reach her at: kathrynahiggins@aol.com

BY KATHRYN A. HIGGINS

HARTFORD, CT -- Fledgling school bus driver Sam Christo has improved his driving time by 40% in the three weeks since school started. Whereas on the first day of school it took him nearly 35 minutes to pick up his designated elementary school students, he was able to do it yesterday in less than 25 minutes.

“It was tough to make good time the first few weeks,” said Christo, as he relaxed with a cigarette after his morning route. “I was still figuring out the neighborhoods, getting to know the kids, and dealing with moms who wanted to chat. But now I’ve gotten my time down significantly, except for that one glitch today.”

Christo’s average suffered slightly when he was delayed by a mom on Center Street who ran out of her house in her pajamas and waved frantically to get him to stop for her kids.

“You’re at least five minutes early,” she said to Christo, citing the bus pick-up times listed at the beginning of each school year in the local paper.

“No, I don’t think so,” said Christo, checking his watch.

It turned out that Christo’s watch was set five minutes ahead of the Center Street mother’s, who later confirmed hers to be accurate. 

The bus driver, while asserting his watch was correct, added “I try to run two minutes ahead of schedule."

Which makes him, according to the frazzled mom, at least seven minutes earlier than expected.

As the bus roared off, a group of moms convened to decide who would make a run to school with all the items their kids had forgotten in the confusion.

A neighbor of the Frazzled Mom said: "My son is new to the whole bus thing and he’s pretty nervous about it. His teacher and I have come up with a rewards program -- smiley faces and whatnot -- to encourage him to take the bus. It messes up our system when the bus is early and he misses it. He refuses to get in the car.”

Another neighbor, whose kids usually board the bus in front of the Frazzled Mom’s house, claimed: “My kids have missed the bus at least half the time this year -- much more than last year.”

“It’s frantic chaos when the bus arrives early,” said the Frazzled Mom. “Stuff gets left behind and I have to drive it to school; it makes me late for work.”

The Frazzled Mom had sent an email to the school principal the previous week, when the school bus had whizzed by during a torrential downpour. According to the F.M., Center Street is a thoroughfare for the town’s fleet of school buses, so although she and her kids had noticed a bus speeding by early, they had no suspicion whatsoever that it was theirs.

“We were pretty much on time, although we were fiddling with our umbrellas,” said the F.M. “We waited out in the pouring rain for 10 minutes before our neighbors yelled that the bus had gone by early. So, I loaded the kids in the car and joined the caravan to the school. It was dark and rainy and the school was deluged with hundreds of cars, as well as torrential rain. So, I sent an email to the principal.”

The principal of the elementary school acknowledged the email and forwarded it to a public school Bureaucratic Functionary, whose apparent job is to act as a buffer between parents and bus drivers. The B.F., goaded into action, immediately sent an email to the F.M.

“I will sent this [sic] to the bus driver’s manager. But the buses, by law, are not allowed to stop if there are no students standing at the stop. The buses are not allow [sic] to stop and wait. Yes, over the years they would do this, but as of last year the state is enforcing this because of the heavy travel [sic] roads. And it sounds like, because they took cover, no one was standing there as the bus went by.”

The F.M. then responded to the B.F. saying it defied common sense for the bus driver to race past bus stops, especially on days of torrential rain, and that her street was not that well-traveled except for speeding buses, and that it was a case of either the bus slowing down enough to pick up kids in bad weather or the school being swamped with traffic in bad weather, and that none of the kids on her street had made the bus.

The B.F. then fired back an email loaded with incredulous exclamation marks.

“There are 8 stops along Center Street and you say 17 students didn’t get picked up!!!!!!”

“I didn’t want to engage any further with the B.F., so I forwarded the whole email exchange to the School Superintendent and then I went back to work,” said the F.M. “I never heard anything back.”

Record-breaking bus driver Christo was unaware of the exchange. “It’s really helps my time that I don’t have to stop if kids aren’t exactly at the bus stop,” he gloated, receiving high-fives from his fellow bus drivers for his dramatic time improvement. “The less I have to stop, the more my time improves. If I can beat the kids in the beginning of the route, then I am more likely to beat the kids later in the route.

“Center Street has been especially good to me,” Christo added. “It’s a thru street and they don’t enforce the speed limit at all, so I can really haul ass through there if I’m careful not to look sideways and catch the eye of some parent.”

No traffic-related incidents or deaths have occurred yet this school year on Center Street, but it’s only October.

Kathryn A. Higgins is writer and mom living with her two children in Connecticut. She recently received her MFA in Writing from Sarah Lawrence College. Her publishing credits include: McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, Real Simple Magazine, Health.com, Sanskrit, Farmhousemagazine.com, Whatever, and Musings; she has also written a regular column for the Connecticut Post, as well as features for various newspapers, and is a Reader for the Paris Review. You can reach her at: kathrynahiggins@aol.com