If you have mini-mes of the grade-school variety at your house, maybe you can relate to my most recent panic attack this week. In fact, I'm almost positive you've probably experienced it at least once. Unless your mini-me is a child prodigy. Yep. You guessed it. The call from the teacher. On the anwering machine. A very cryptic mumbling that is just serious-sounding enough to cause your stomach to turn - without detailing the symptoms worthy of your latest affliction. And it's left on a Friday afternoon. So by the time you reach home on Friday evening (long after the teachers have left the building), you have the whole weekend to spend in passive agony, wondering what little Johnny has been up to this time.
The call came in last week. And actually, I didn't hear the message until several days later. "Mrs. Queen B, I've lost your email address when I transitioned to a new computer recently. Can you please either give me a call or send me your email address again? I wanted to speak with you about little Johnny." Joy. Lots of joy. Buckets of proud parental joy. And it's the end of the school year. What major decisions are made about a child's school standing at the end of the school year? I jumped to speculation immediately. Outrageous thoughts. Wildly dramatic thoughts. I was already preparing the "No, we are not going to hold him back ..." speech.
When I finally reached the teacher around noon the next day, she says "Little Johnny had been acting silly. We wondered if there had been some change at home. Or if you've noticed anything amiss. But that was last week. He's been fine this week." So to borrow a phrase from Grey's Anatomy and my last post ... SERIOUSLY?????
Little Johnny does have ADHD. And he's in second grade. Isn't silliness a requirement for that coveted age in life? I was imagining mini-me repeating second grade. And grieving over how that was going to permanently scar his self-esteem. And yet he was acting "silly." Silly. Hmmm. Who was it that was acting silly???? One aforementioned teacher who had me stressed out, losing sleep and speed-dialing Sylvan. That's who.
3 comments:
Silly huh? At least he didn't kick a hole in the wall. Or give a classmate a swirley in the bathroom for stealing his friend's Hot Wheel. Or hold a lighter to the fire sprinkler in tha bathroom so that the water blasts on and the entire school is evacuated. Or Pull down the pants of a classmate during recess. Or, or, or. Be thankful for silly. I pray every night for silly.
Badway.
I've got a spirited kindergartner and and sometimes you wonder if the teacher's dream about having tranq dart guns filled with prozac to zombify the legions of these silly creative kids.
So interestingly enough, the next day my little angel got in trouble for FIGHTING at school. Holy Moses! This was our first school "fighting" experience. It started out as trash talk in the gym during a game of soccer and moved on out to the hallway on the way back to class. But the real reason for then what became in-school suspension were the words "I'm gonna rip your balls off!" Them there's fighting words according to the school district. I blame my 14-year-old for teaching him that little gem. Thank goodness today was the last day of the school year. I'm feeling exhausted.
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