Veronica

"These days I'm not even sure if her name was Veronica" - Elvis Costello
Veronica came to us in the first week of March. When I say she came to us, the proper description would be more like her mother came to our office and registered her. As a third grader. Veronica was not with her on this trip. Neither was the proper documentation to get her properly enrolled. Veronica's mom had what we like to describe as a "hissy fit" and stormed out of the office without completing the process. We did not see her again, but we did talk about her around the office. Not Veronica, whom we had not met, but her very impatient mother.
Then, later that week, a few terse phone calls were exchanged from the student enrollment office on behalf of this distraught mother and we were advised to go ahead and let Veronica become a part of our third grade just as soon as we could make it happen. This kind of thing is not uncommon, since parents have a great deal to say about how our district gets things done. Our district is also very fond of setting up procedures for us to follow that don't allow us to be the nice guys in that equation. We winced in anticipation of our next face to face with Veronica's mom. And getting to meet Veronica at last.
This did not happen since, as history will remind us, students were sent home to continue the last part of their year to avoid exposure to the historic virus. Veronica did not attend a day of "regular" class. Once we had cobbled together our school's distance learning plan, we sent out a phone message and emails describing how students could pick up a work packet and instructions about how to connect with their class on Al Gore's Internet.
Veronica's mom came to pick up the packet, and asked questions about how this whole thing might shake down. We told her what we knew: We were making it up as we went along, according to the district guidelines. This seemed to satisfy her and off she went to quarantine for more weeks.
This past week, we closed up school for this year, still without that clue about what and how we may be doing things. Veronica's mom showed up without her daughter, asking for a report card. Given that we had never actually seen Veronica or any of her work, it was decided that there was no way to give her a report card. We tensed for the reaction.
"Oh, I can bring by her work. She's finished it. She's very bright. She said that it was easy. At her old school her teacher called her 'a scholar.'"
We breathed a collective sigh of relief and told her that would be fine, and we looked forward to seeing her, and Veronica, in the coming year.
Veronica will be in fourth grade next year. At least that's the way we imagine it.