As I was walking back from the Schoolhouse to the office at work today, I noticed that the baby didn't seem to have as much room as she normally does and that my diaphragm felt tight. I had to think about it for a minute before I realized "Oh yeah, that's a contraction." They happen periodically at the end of pregnancy, and I just took it as a sign to sit at my desk for a few minutes and drink some water. Since then, I've had another one. I'm only 28 weeks along, so in my opinion two contractions in two hours is probably not the worst thing that can happen; but it probably isn't ideal either. So, I came home from picking the kids up and put myself to bed. It took about 10 minutes for that to get old, but in the interest of being on the safe side of things; I'm still here. (Yes, I'm still hydrating too.) I'm bored, so I'm writing another post. I'm sure my readers can handle it.
In addition to being mildly anxious about what my body is doing, I am also (yet again) anxious about things with my son at school. I've limited my discussion about this to a few blurbs on Facebook and Twitter, but still feel the need to tell the story here. About a month ago, I blogged about my disappointment at having to spend my only day off in yet another parent/teacher conference. One of the results of that conference was the establishment of a notebook to be passed back and forth between Tristan's teacher and myself (And Dave, but since I do pick-up I get to read it first.) At first, I felt this was productive. But lately, it seems to have disintegrated into a laundry list of why my son's existence is unacceptable. Make no mistake, I do not wear rose-colored glasses when it comes to Tristan's shortcomings and there are no shortage of people in the world, in particular at church, who seem to delight in pointing them out to me. Do I wish I had a sweet little boy like some of the others I see at school or in his Sunday School class? Sometimes. But that's not what I was given and after 9 months and 9 years, you tend to get attached to what you have.
I have disciplined Tristan repeatedly for every offense in that notebook, but lately it's gotten a lot harder for me to do so. In the month or so this exchange has gone on, almost every entry has been critical of him. Big things, little things, insignificant things all held up in the same harsh spotlight day after day. Again, I acknowledge that my son is no picnic-what with me being his mother and all, I get to see that and experience it daily. However, when you read negative comments about your child routinely, you start to question whether or not the person writing them cares about your kid at all. I've told myself all year long that teachers don't dislike the kids in their class and there is so much TO love about Tristan that I was sure his teacher would find something before the year's end. All of his other teachers have. But here we are in mid-May, and if anything, Tristan's behaviors are escalating. That isn't normal, even for him. I've thought a lot about what the problems are (aside from me obviously being an inadequate parent who turns a blind eye to my son's behavior issues-that's sarcasm in case you didn't catch it) and what hit me was that he has completely given up in that classroom. He knows that even if he starts out on a good note, at some point in the day he is going to get into trouble because no matter what he does there is always something to find fault with (I can attest to this from the daily notebook entries). The poor kid has had recess about 10 times this year, been kept from going to his bi-weekly Gifted and Talented Enrichment classes more times than I want to know about (especially with my cranky uterus today), and he sincerely believes that his teacher doesn't like him. As an adult, this is the equivalent of having a bad boss. And as an adult, you deal. Tristan is 9, and coping like that is even hard for some adults.
As any long-time reader of this blog knows, I have been very involved at that school since Tristan started there in Pre-K. It was, in fact, his positive experiences in Pre-K that led me to remove Natalie from her private school and enroll her there as well. I know and love every member of that school staff and most of the kids too. Until this year, I spent as much time there during the day as I did at home. The last thing I wanted to do just before we move everyone to their actual district school next Fall was to cause any problems. But this morning, I did just that. Yesterday, Tristan threw up at school. Unfortunately, I cannot take calls while I am teaching in the Schoolhouse and didn't get the message until the normal time that I leave work to go pick everyone up. (I used to be a stay-at-home mom, and I think sometimes the office still thinks that I am and that's why I always get the call even though their Dad works a shorter drive to the school and usually has a better chance of leaving work on the spur-of-the-moment than I do.) Anyway, I called the school immediately and I was kindly reassured that it had likely been from the heat, that he had no fever, and that he was sent back to class after he had cooled off a bit. But I still felt bad because I remember the monumentally embarrassing thing that it was to throw up in front of your friends in elementary school.
I picked the kids up, drove home, and opened the notebook. In addition to the entry of two weeks ago when the teacher caught him with a pocket calculator during a math test and told me that she told him in front of the class that "maybe none of your good math grades were earned because you are a cheater," (Of course I'm not OK with him using a calculator on a test, but I'm REALLY not OK with her saying that to him in front of the class.) And her insinuation earlier this week that some of the notebook pages "seemed to be missing" and that maybe he was stealing them and hiding them (the reality is that Dave and I are making copies of them which we started doing after the calculator entry); she wrote a scathing paragraph about him that was, by her own timeline, all written down AFTER the poor kid puked on the playground in front of his friends. Yesterday's pre-puking offenses included an illegal piece of gum (which isn't allowed here so I do fear to think where he got it) that he put in the water fountain after he was told to get rid of it. (His response "You told me to get rid of it, you didn't say WHERE.") So, no he is not the perfect kid and he did get in trouble for that. But to slam on a kid less than an hour AFTER he throws up at school? I don't think so. I took the "cheater" comment, I've bitten my tongue when reading about how he has been forced to miss recess almost daily, I only complained once about him being withheld from GT class (even though I know it happens more than I would like for it to), and I say nothing about all the times he hasn't been allowed to go to science (though I'm totally buying a 3rd grade level science homeschool curriculum kit and we're doing it this summer); so to read how unkind someone's attitude could be towards a kid who wasn't feeling well was THE LAST STRAW.
I didn't go as ballistic as I'm capable of, I simply wrote a short note in which I explained any missing notebook pages were a result of either Dave or I making copies and not my child's dishonesty. That I regret and punish his classroom misbehavior, but at the same time I am beginning to question whether or not my son receives anything but 'round the clock criticism while he is at school; and that if you single out a child as "the bad kid" in your class; he or she will do his best not to disappoint you. (Think Harry Potter Book 5 and the Weasley twins) Apparently, this was more than enough because I did not get the notebook back today and I was subject to go-to-hell looks from no less than three of my kids' teachers today. After all I've done at that school, I can't tell you how badly that hurts. And yet, I knew it was a possibility when I handed Tristan the notebook this morning. He doesn't know what I wrote and he is still in trouble over yesterday's gum-in-the-water-fountain incident. I don't excuse his misbehavior in any way, but I also no longer think he is being treated as well as the other kids in his class and I cannot excuse that either. I'm sure it will come as no surprise that my own mother never advocated for me. I remember well some mistreatment at the hands of a few teachers during my public school experience and how much I wished my mom would take up for me even once. I only had to think about the respectful, but distant relationship I have with my mom for a second or two before signing that note and giving it to my son this morning. I still love that school, I still respect ALL of the faculty and staff, and I hate that any parting goodbye's from everyone there will be less "we will miss you" and more "don't let the door hit you in the butt on the way out-or, better yet, DO." But at some point, my son's love and trust in me has to matter more than what they think. And apparently today was that "some point."
Posts
