L had an art show at school this evening. At least that was the explanation. It was part of a whole art evening, with performances by the chorus and strings orchestra. After dinner, L and I jumped into the car, and the Boy started howling when he thought he wasn’t going with us. Truth be told, I didn’t think he was: he usually prefers staying with Mama.

But there was no negotiating: “I want to go, too!” So we found ourselves wandering the hall of L’s school, look at students’ art work, talking about how her year has been going, keeping the Boy out of trouble. With all the wide, empty hallways, he wanted to do one thing: run.

The Girl worked her way through a scavenger hunt, finding Warhol-inspired art and collages of some German school that I can’t remember.

Finally we made it up to the Girl’s classroom. She showed us her desk, pointed out where all her friends sit, gave commentary on the seating arrangement.

“And poor A must sit here, beside E.” Not our E — some other boy whose Biblical name begins with the same letter and whose bad behavior seems just as Biblical in scale, when L tells about it.

I try to help her get used to it: there will always be behavior issues in her class. It’s inevitable — a sign of our times. She’s depressed about it, but what can we do?