My life's in the Toilet

(Apologies to Mrs. Dukakis from "Moonstruck", but the seniment fits)




Oh! Dear! God!

Not only is my mother visiting and wreaking havoc with my sanity, but just today I went to pick up my kindergartner, and was greeted by a “lunch duty” volunteer who said that she would watch my youngest as I was needed inside to help the police deal with my son.

What?

The police?

Turn the corner to find two police cars, one with lights on.

Walk briskly to his classroom to find him on the floor of the third grade hallway, hiding under a table, with two cops on either side of the table. His teacher walks up to me and says, “Has anyone told you what’s going on?”

“No.”

Part of my son's Special Ed provision is that he has an aide who shadows him throughout the day to help him navigate playground disputes, or to watch him if he needs to leave the classroom for the hallway. He likes his teacher, but he's been building up some sort of conflict with his aide which started before Winter Break.

It’s the third day back from vacation. (Hello! My son doesn’t DO WELL after he comes back from a break. We just discussed this BEFORE the break.) On Monday he got angry at his aide and said he wanted to “slice and dice” her. Yesterday, he got angry at her and threw a shoe at her. Today when she asked him to do something he refused and then said, “This is the worst day ever. If I had a gun I’d just put it to my head and shoot myself.” She told him that she was worried, and that she wouldn’t let him do that. So he responded, “Fine. If I had a blowtorch I’d just blow up the whole school.”

Someone called the police because he had made a threat against school property. Great.

I walked down the hallway, shook the officer’s hand, asked them to please walk away from the table and sat down on the floor. This kid was so freaked out he was sweating and shaking with his shirt tucked over his knees. I finally got him out, after about 30 minutes of talking. (Thank god the principal sent the police away after I got there.)

He crawled into my lap finally and started crying. “Are you going to take away my stuffed animals now?”

“No. But I’m taking you home. OK?”

“OK.” His adrenaline rush was so bad that he started shivering and chattering his teeth on the way to the car. Holy Hell. What a week.

Thank God my mother’s in Carmel having lunch with two doll collectors. I couldn’t deal with her on top of this.

I have to get the principal on the phone, but the only thing that worries me now, or maybe the one thing that worries me the most, is that some group of adults in the hallway started talking about scheduling a meeting as soon as possible with two psychologists, three principals, and two educational aides. That’s beginning to sound a hell of a lot like an expulsion panel. But if I obsess on that now, I’ll lose it. Must call the principal.