Monday, September 14, 2015


This afternoon was unpleasant.

In the building where I work we're all kind of crammed in together, and I share a space with a few other people. I overheard one of my co-workers talking on the phone, helping out a teacher who happened to work at my son's school. This teacher was really concerned about a student of hers and they were talking about the best way to help the kid out.

The whole time I was aching with jealousy. Why couldn't someone be concerned about my kid?

What was so wrong with my kid that people aren't worried about him? I understand that he has challenging behavior sometimes and he doesn't fit into the normal classroom mold. He also can't be slotted into the various Special Education options because, guess what, he's exceptional without being Special Ed. And yet, as much of a pain as it is for the teachers, it's more painful for him.

You have no idea how much it would mean to have someone there do something on his behalf. To look at him and see a kid worth helping instead of a mom worth placating. To realize he's someone special instead of someone weird. I know his teacher has thirty kids to look after, but I wish she could spare some thought and compassion on mine.

This week I'm meeting with the school staff to discuss a learning plan for him. I'm hoping that I'm proven wrong and that there will be wonderful things thoughtfully put in place for him. I hate being jealous.

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