The School Spoke To Me Disrespectfully And I Let It Go – Here’s Why

It was Friday and I was exhausted. My husband had been up all night, sick, and I had gotten up to help him. This is especially dangerous for him because he is recovering from non-alcoholic fatty liver disease and hepatitis. After a sleepless night and trying to get everything done that I needed to do while taking care of him as well, we decided that while the kids were still in school, we would take a nap together.

We climbed into bed and I turned off the volume on my phone. I usually do this and my husband doesn’t, so I don’t worry if the schools call because if they can’t reach me, they call him next.

It didn’t occur to me that since my husband was sick, he also turned off his volume.

So there we were, trying to catch up on missed sleep. I set my phone alarm for an hour before the kids got home so that I could get up and have time for a hot beverage before they arrived. We live out in the country so our son, Kai, who is six years old and special needs, leaves school and is on the bus for about an hour before he gets home. He is bussed to another district which services five surrounding districts with a special needs-only campus. This is the perfect placement for Kai, who is low functioning and would not benefit from any inclusion in general education. He also LOVES the bus, so what seems like a long ride to us is heaven for him.

I happened to wake before the alarm and, good thing, because I had six missed calls and texts. Kai had thrown up at school and they were trying to find me to come pick him up. They had also called my husband, but, of course, he was sleeping next to me. The school had just let out for the day and was about a 25 minute drive from our house, without traffic. Kai’s amazing bus driver called as I was frantically reading the texts and told me what happened. She was about to leave campus and they didn’t want to put him on the bus in case he was contagious. Some of the other students are medically fragile and don’t need to be exposed if it can be avoided.

I knew that if Kai was staying behind at school when the bus left that he would be extremely upset. He wouldn’t understand. I also knew that the shorter the amount of time it took for me to get there, the less time he would have to feel upset. So I jumped out of bed, grabbed everything I needed, explained what was going on to my husband and ran out the door. It wasn’t a short drive and I wanted Kai to feel better emotionally and physically as quickly as possible.

I was racing down back country roads when it occurred to me that maybe the bus driver hadn’t communicated with the office that I was coming. I decided to call and let them know that I was on my way.

They seemed kind of… pissed off.

“You’re just leaving your town NOW?” they asked.

“Yes. I spoke to the bus driver and just left. I will be there as soon as I can,” I said, trying to control my temper. The tone being used made me feel like a shitty mother.

“OK. Thank you,” a clipped voice responded. And they hung up.

This brief interaction made me feel like I was up for the Bad Mother of the Year Award. I felt like I should invite my friends to the ceremony just for the appetizers.

As I was racing down the road, trying to contain my temper, I thought about when I was a teacher in the classroom. I thought about the time that I waited until 7PM for a conference that the parent couldn’t schedule any other time and then they were a no-show. I thought about the home visits that I had made when I worked in a particularly rough school. And I thought about how for every parent that was amazing and on top of things, there was a parent that was a flake. That didn’t answer the phone. That didn’t show up.

Because they couldn’t reach me, for 25 minutes, I guess I looked like a flake.

The principal, whom I adore, was off campus this day. When I raced into the parking lot (27 minutes after being in a dead sleep and in school traffic, thank you very much), I ran up the ramp to the door. Everyone else was gone except three women, who were standing and sitting around Kai. Kai had thrown himself on the floor and was laying there crying. I knew a couple of things immediately upon seeing him. He was upset because the bus and his friends left without him. He didn’t understand why he was still there. And the ladies couldn’t comfort him because his meltdown had gone beyond where they could reach emotionally. They were doing what they were supposed to be doing in this type of situation. They were surrounding him, they were nearby so he couldn’t get hurt and they were making themselves available in case he wanted them. They were right on target.

I opened the door and before I even took one step, one of the ladies said, “Could you sign this clipboard?” and kind of shoved it at me. Kai was in distress and she was shoving a clipboard at me. I walked right past her to my son. Didn’t acknowledge her. She probably thought in my upset that I hadn’t heard her. I heard her just fine. My priority list had one item on it – Kai. The damned clipboard could wait.

I went to my knees beside him and talked softly to him. I wiped his tears. I acknowledged what I knew to be true. I told him that I saw that he was upset. And that I knew that this was not what we usually do. I kissed him multiple times and stroked his head. I asked him, “Are you ready to feel better now?”

He said, “Yeah.” His face grew calmer. I held my hands out to him and he took them and stood calmly beside me. What may have looked like a magic trick to others, is just me mothering my son. You mothers and fathers understand, don’t you?

The woman repeated, softer now, could you sign this clipboard? Now, I was ready.

I knew one of the three women. She was the school nurse. I had had many interactions with her before and she has taken incredible care of Kai. She even held him and watched Mickey Mouse Clubhouse with him one day when he was upset because he hurt his finger. The other two, I had never seen before.

The nurse asked, “Are there other numbers we can call when we need to reach you?” I explained my circumstances from the night before, that there were no other numbers, that this never happens and that it would never happen again. I also threw in that I knew it was the Friday before a three day weekend and that it sucks to have to stay after with a student. The three women protested that it wasn’t about that, but I told them that I had been a classroom teacher and, even if it isn’t about that, it still wasn’t ideal. I apologized to them. My response was in direct contrast to how they made me feel, which was that they thought I was a shitty mother for not being available by phone, that it took me too long to get there and that I had put them out. I simply pretended otherwise.

Then, I took Kai, and I got out of there.

Why didn’t I tell them how they made me feel? Because, believe me, I am no wallflower.

I recalled a former boss of mine who I loved. She had a saying that she repeated often. She would say, “We have bigger fish to fry.”

Look, I made a mistake. I should have been available and I wasn’t. Its never happened before, and Lord knows, after this, I will try really hard for it to never happen again. Two out of three of these women don’t know me. They don’t know that I talk with the principal several times a week. Or that she sends me pictures of Kai during the day. Or that I created my own “Kai Report,” because I wanted to know more about his day. Or that Kai has come further with his mother and father educationally than with any teacher he has ever had. They only know what they saw. I wasn’t available. I didn’t answer the phone. And they made their own assumptions, which they conveyed through tone and body language.

I could address this, I really could. But, the fact is, I don’t deal with these women on a regular basis. The nurse is always great. The other two were the ones conveying their disapproval. They don’t matter to me and they don’t work directly with my son. And, sometimes, so I don’t go insane, I need to let it go.

That same boss used to tell us to take a deep breath (Smell the popcorn!) and let it out (Blow out the birthday candles!). To calm yourself. I need to keep my eyes on the prize. My incredible son, he is the prize.

I have never been good at letting things go. And I didn’t like how I was treated. But I’m taking one for the team.