Tennis Is A BITCH. . .

It's officially the second week of tennis lessons, and therefore it's time for the Tennis Moms to start bitching about EVERYTHING. One would think that after doing this every summer for five years, I would have heard it all by now. One would think that there would be nothing left for a parent to say which could possibly annoy me by this point. But the parents manage to come up with newer and even more confounding ways to do just that. In fact, now that I have an abundance of experience in this area, I am more confident than ever that I am, in fact, a really good tennis teacher, so their complaints actually annoy me even MORE than they used to.

BITCHY MOM #1, COMPLAINT #1:
The first bitchy Mom of the 2004 summer season started out in the classic tradition of appearing on the court about 10 minutes into the third lesson of the day. I walked over to intercept her Stalk of Death before she came in direct contact with the newbie, Amy, who had yet to deal with any disgruntled parents and I didn't want her to get massacred. Craig, with his charming good looks and near-decade's worth of experience used to do the same for me during my first year, and his example on how to handle parents taught me well. . . well, except for the charming good looks part. I can't really flex my muscles and make the Moms swoon. At least, I hope I can't.

Anyway, as the current reigning veteran, the least I could do was handle the situation for us both. I put on my best "I'm Trying Really Hard to Like You Smile" and headed her off at the base line. As usual, she began in a friendly manner, letting me know that her daughter had just arrived late, and that she'd have to leave 20 minutes early for figure skating lessons. "Not a problem," I said through a toothy smile, and joked that figure skating would probably feel great on a hot day like today. She smiled and nodded in agreement, keeping up the pleasant facade while casually mentioning that we hadn't separated the classes into two groups.

I heard the warning in her tone - she was one of the "DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE COMBINE CLASSES - IF THERE ARE ONLY TWO KIDS, GIVE THEM EACH PRIVATE LESSONS!" Moms.

I wasn't even going to try to explain that, on paper at least, the classes actually HAD been combined this year during the re-vamp of the recreation department, and were now seperateable only at the instructors' discretion. I also wasn't going to say that given the amount of balls we have (about 20), the kids actually get more balls to hit and spend less time picking them up when we teach them all at once. I didn't mention how in a combo class, the kids get better instruction because one of us can lob the balls at the student while the other can stand on the other side of the net to correct form and control the behavior of the other kids. And I didn't acknowledge how, ultimately, combined classes are more fun for the students because they can play tennis games, like Jail. I certainly didn't say that it was just plain easier for us overworked and underpaid town employees.

Instead I smiled, and explained that we really base things off of how many kids show up, which is true. When we began the lesson, there were only eight kids there, so we kept them together in order to play games. However, since then, a number of kids had shown up LATE (including YOUR daughter - hint hint), and now we had about 14, so we would probably be splitting up the classes once the basket of balls ran out. She seemed satisfied, thanked me and left. After the balls were picked up, I split the classes, rolled my eyes at Amy, and taught my class only slightly annoyed that we had a No Combo Class Mom on our hands. No big deal.

COMPLAINT #2:
However, Ms. Bitch wasn't through yet. She had an entire list of complaints that seemed to grow with each passing moment. Luckily for us, this year we have a supervisor on location rather than positioning him in an office across town. Therefore, she was able to complain directly to him instead of periodically interrupting my lesson. As a result, however, I had no idea of how incensed this woman had become. She had no intention of letting me know, either. Instead, she just collected her kid 20 minutes early, smiled, and left. God, I HATE when they pretend everything is fine and secretly LOATHE you. The feeling's mutual, ma'am.

Anyway, so I thought she was fine until our supervisor, Paul, came over and told us what she told him. Apparently, she was mad that after we split the classes, there weren't enough balls, and her daughter spent more time picking up balls then hitting them. Well, sorry - not much we can do about that. She kind of shot herself in the foot with that one, making us split the class in the first place. If she wants to buy us more balls than the town provides us with, she'd get no protest from me. I'm practically begging for tennis balls by the end of the season since every other one is hit over the fence and into the woods.

COMPLAINT #3:
THEN Paul tells us that she was pissed because we played too many FUN games with the kids, and only taught them forehands and backhands instead more complex tennis moves. I hate Moms who pull that one. It's always the Moms with LITTLE kids too. No exception this time - her daughter was 7. It never seems to matter to these people that their kid can't even hit a FOREHAND right, all they care about is why little so-and-so isn't serving and learning how to score. There's a reason first graders take ADDING instead of CALCULUS. Excuse us for trying to get the fucking basics straight.

Paul tried to explain that there's a range of ability and that we have to progress slowly, but she wasn't having it. He tried to explain that the games reinforce skills (which is true; Jail is all about keeping the ball in the lines of the court - quite a feat for most students) and that it's important that the kids have fun, but she wasn't having that either. Remember, her daughter was late because she was at some other lesson and has to leave early to go to another lesson - I doubt this kid is ALLOWED to have much fun.

COMPLAINT #4:
While she was on the topic of games, she also took issue with the game PIG, which is a favorite of the kids. It's basically the same thing as HORSE in basketball; if you hit the ball successfully over the net and into the court, you get no letters, but if you mess up you get a letter. If you spell PIG you're "Pigged Out" and have to sit on the sideline. Last one standing wins, and you get to make a lot of cool oinking and snorting noises, which the kids love to do. Now most Moms who complain take issue with Jail because the kids can get competitive and a bit rough, but in the five years I've been teaching I've never heard of anyone who had a problem with PIG. But enter this Mom: she's pissed because the game insinuates that her daughter is a Pig - a disgusting filthy barnyard animal, what the hell were we THINKING!?

Paul couldn't defend us on that one to his boss, and now the game PIG is abolished. This really sucks, because now I have to deal with all these kids screaming, "We wanna play PIG!" And I have to say, "We can't play PIG ever again because so-and-so's Mom is a raving whore."

COMPLAINT #5:
And she STILL had stuff to complain about! Between being late and leaving early, I don't see how she was even THERE long enough to come up with this Manifesto of Dislike. Her final reaction was apparently anger at the fact she heard one of us say, "Everyone has arrived," and had taken the tone to mean that we were miffed the class had the gall to actually show up and force us to perform work, because we were obviously prissy little bitches.

She should talk, eh?

I almost fell over laughing when Paul told us that. I explained to him that at the beginning of class, Amy asked me if we should get started, and I said, "Yeah, it looks like everyone is here." As in, "The kids who usually show up at this time have arrived," which is a far cry from the entire class on my list, so why would I be pissed? Paul had to laugh at that too, and said he wasn't surprised to find out it had been taken out of context. In fact, he told the woman that we were good instructors who really liked kids, and that he couldn't believe either of us would say something like that. Although it kind of sucks that we now have a boss looking over our shoulders all the time with this new set-up, it's kind of nice that someone is there to see what a good job we actually do, and can then make a better judgment call when complaints come in. In any case, Ms. Bitch ran out of complaints or time, whichever came first, and left. Good riddance.

Lighten up, parents. You only pay $15 for your kid to have enjoyable tennis lessons ALL summer. If you want private, "Fun Is Not Allowed" lessons, go to the Kingsbury Club and slam down $500 to hire your 7-year-old a personal tennis trainer. Your kid will never speak to you again, but she'll play a damn good game of tennis. I'll even pay you $20 never to come back.

BITCHY MOM #2:
However, this maelstrom of malevolence (wow, I'm starting to sound like Geraldo Rivera!) was not an isolated incident this week. Oh, no. Another mother decided to make an outrageous claim which rivals the current All-Time-Stupidity Champion: Mr. Ball Temperature Dad. Now, some of you may remember Mr. Ball Temperature Dad back from the summer of 2000, when I was a green little tennis instructor dealing with my first disgruntled parent. That man bitched me out, claiming that his 5-year-old couldn't hit the ball properly because the ball's bounce was negatively effected by its temperature. He proceeded to inform me that tennis balls should be kept refrigerated at a certain temperature and demanded to know what temperature I kept them at and why I didn't have a portable refrigeration device on the court.

It might sound like this guy was kidding, but I have a good sense of humor, and this guy was most definitely serious. He actually got quite worked up about it, and was disgusted when I admitted I hadn't even HEARD of such a thing, even at the PROFESSIONAL level.

Anyway, he holds the record for the stupidest claim ever made by a parent to the tennis instructors, but this week we had a woman who was almost, but not quite, as bad. Apparently last week, this lady's son, who is admittedly quite husky (read: really really FAT) tried to squeeze between the gate of the court and the rest of the surrounding fencing, and in the process nicked himself in his ample side. Now I'm surprised he didn't cut himself, but no, all he got was a nice nasty little bruise about this size of a half-dollar on his right lovehandle. However, this Mom is ready to go on the war path because the fence bruised her kid. She's claiming that the courts are unsafe and is demanding that the town put PADDING over all the fences surrounding the tennis courts.

PADDING! As if, 1. The town can afford it, and 2. It's even POSSIBLE.

Paul tried to talk to her, but she's writing this big letter to the town and threatening to sue and all this shit. Paul finally gave up and was like, "Fine, go right ahead." Good for him.

See? Parents really are INSANE.

BITCHY MOM #3:
Finally it was the end of the week, but they still wouldn't stop complaining. My last class of the day has the cutest little girl in it named Chloe, who is 5. She's one of those kids who really isn't old enough or coordinated enough to be very good at any of it, but she smiles and laughs and tries really hard and doesn't seem to care that she sucks, so we love her. There's nothing harder to deal with than kids who are easily frustrated by their own lack of skill, because most of the younger ones just don't have a knack for it. Parents don't seem to understand that in tennis, their kid could be doing everything right but still miss the ball. We can show them how to hold the racket, we can show them how to swing it, we can tell them to wait for the bounce and we can aim the ball right for their center strings, but the timing of everything is, in the end, all up to them. And at 5, most kids just can't seem to hack it. They always want to know, "What's she/he doing wrong?" when really, it's all just a matter of underdeveloped hand-eye coordination. I have a girl that I've been teaching since day one five years ago, and this is the FIRST year she's actually HIT THE BALL. Really. Most of them grow into it eventually, but when the racket is three times bigger than they are, hitting the ball is just too much to ask.

Anyway, Chloe isn't very good at tennis. She hits it once in awhile, but it's by shear statistics more than anything else. Her situation isn't helped by the fact that there are only a couple of other kids in her class, and they're a lot older - most are between eight and ten - and all male. They're also all really good at tennis. As a result, Amy and I decided that this week we should teach them King/Queen of the Court, which we play with all the older kids because it's a good experience for them. There's always one kid who's not quite ready for it and it sucks for them, but we only play this game for the last 10 minutes of class, and it's not fair not to let everyone else play just because one kid isn't any good. In this case, Chloe is that kid, but she takes everything so well we figured she wouldn't mind even though we knew there was no way in hell she'd be able to drop and hit her own ball over the net. But also there was the chance that an overwhelming challenge like this would help her - many motivated kids improve faster in a trial-by-fire situation.

So we explained the game, and on Chloe's turn up, we gave her ten chances to serve the ball so she didn't feel cheated, even though everyone else only got two chances before they were out. Unsurprisingly, she failed, but just laughed and skipped to the end of the line, cheering on the next contestant. I thought the game was very successful.

At the end of class, however, her Mom came over all disgruntled and told me that Chloe said that she didn't do a good job today and that it was my fault. Apparently I didn't show her how to do something and that she couldn't do it as a result. I realized then that she meant the drop and hit serve for Queen of the Court, and she's right - I didn't tell her how to do it. I was going to show her how to do it on her turn up, but before I could even take a step onto the court, she started doing it exactly right! She dropped the ball with the correct hand, and took a good swing holding her racket properly in the other. I backed off, impressed. Her only issue was she just couldn't get the timing close enough to actually connect with the ball, which is something that will only come from practice.

I tried to explain to her mother that she does fine when she's in line and we throw the ball to her, but that this was a new skill we learned today and that it was difficult. I told her that she was young and was doing remarkably well for her age, but the serve takes time for anyone to master. Her Mom had none of it, however, and got all in my face saying that if Chloe did poorly it was my fault and that I should watch out for her especially.

Read: I should tailor the lesson to fit her needs specifically.

Fuck you, lady. I make sure your daughter has fun and learns something and doesn't get run over by older boys. Past that, she doesn't deserve any more or any less than anyone else. You want private lessons, go somewhere else. I don't get paid enough nor have the facilities to offer that kind of service, thanks, and it STILL wouldn't change the fact that she's really too young to gain more than a passing familiarity with all this anyway. Don't you realize that I used to look forward to seeing your kid because she was a nice, enthusiastic little girl, and now I'll hate seeing her because it means YOU are in tow and I have to worry about you being pissed at everything I do?

Wow I hate parents. When I have kids, I am going to be SO much cooler.