Tag Archives: raising boys

Public School Pest

When you think of pest, you probably think of a student, but in our case, I think it’s my son’s teacher.  He’s been complaining that she’s mean.  A few students have even cried, and these aren’t kindergarteners, they’re 5th graders —  Kiddos who are used to the school routine.  Except when your teacher is an intense 25+ year veteran teacher.  Normally I’d be grateful for an experienced teacher, but in this case, I don’t think experience weighs out.  I haven’t figured out if it’s just her personality, that she’s just abrasive, or if she’s burned out, or if it’s both of those and maybe more.

All I know is my normally happy-go-lucky little man has been stressed and anxious, and even crying at the thought of going back to school each day.  I called a meeting with the teacher and the principal, and I left having mixed emotions.  She’s definitely intense, and wanted to steer the focus of the meeting to what she wanted to talk about.  Definitely an overbearing personality.  We agreed to weekly phone calls.  Last night was the first of those.  I can’t say I feel any better about the whole situation. 

And she threw in a verbal slap in the face, saying she had heard that my son wanted to live with his dad.  I know for a fact this isn’t true, but what I don’t know is if she said that strictly as a jab, or as retribution for calling her to the principal’s office, or if she was digging for information.  Doesn’t really matter.  What I do know, is that as a mother and grandmother (as she told me she was) she knows full well the power behind her statement.  Shame on her.  I see thru her comment, but how many other parents has she wounded in her 25+ years of teaching.  Multiply that times ten and we might have a low-ball estimate of the number of students she’s traumatized over the years.

How is it that this woman still teaches?  I’ve been trying for a year and  half to get a teaching job and haven’t had any luck, but here’s this hateful woman interacting with innocent children on a daily basis.  It boggles my mind!

I’ve typed up an email to the principal outlining all of my concerns and requesting that my son be transferred out of her class.  I haven’t sent it yet, but I did send it to my ex-husband who was also in the meeting.  I want to see what he thinks about it, and I want to let it sit for a day.  I’ll look at it again tomorrow with fresh eyes and see if anything needs to be added or taken out.

It’s a stressful situation.  It’s so hard to see your child in misery.  So hard to drop him off at school each day knowing I’m sending him into such agony.  I know the school has a policy of class assignments being final, but in this case I think they have to make an exception.  He’s not focused on learning, and he can’t have a year of this level of stress.  I may be in for a battle, but they’ve got this mother hen riled up.

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Filed under children, family, motherhood, parenting, Public School, rants & raves, the kiddo, working mom

I Always Feel Like Somebody’s Watching Me

I’ve figured out why I’m not getting as much sleep as I should.  My “eureka!” moment came the other morning when I woke to see a man standing near my bedside.  We were practically face to face and he was staring with a fixed expression, his hand reaching out to me.  Of course I was surpised, and you may be wondering if I screamed or called for help or how I managed to get this man out of my bedroom or house.  He’s still there actually, but don’t be alarmed . . .

Apparently my son thought my Eiffel Tower lamp needed a tourist.

My kiddo and his little jokes.  Love his sense of humor.  I recently bought a cast iron gnome for our flowerbeds, but I’ve yet to put him outside so he’s standing in our living room.  The other day I noticed his ears look a bit different than when I brought him home.

Not sure how the kiddo came up with that one, putting erasers on the gnome’s ears, but now our gome looks a little more elfish with those ear extensions.  What will my little practical joker come up with next?


Filed under children, funny, motherhood, parenting, the kiddo, Uncategorized

Life is Fragile

This evening my son and I went on a walk, a really long walk.  He was on his bike, and I walked our dog.  We were gone for an hour and a half or two hours.  He’s such an outdoorsy boy.  Tonight I got to see what a big, compassionate heart he has.

We were on our way back home when he told me he was going to ride ahead and then come back.  He got too far ahead of me though, and I couldn’t see him, but I finally caught up with him and I could see his chin quivering.  My first thought was that he must’ve fallen off his bike.  I asked what was wrong and he said he saw a dead bird.  We had seen a dead bird when we were walking to the park earlier, so I assumed that’s what it was.

Later, back at our house just before he was going to bed, he said he saw a big black bird pecking on a smaller bird and the smaller bird was bleeding.  He tried to shoo the black bird, but it kept coming back, so he searched around for something to throw at it.  When he came back and threw a stick at the black bird, he said the injured bird died right in front of him.  He cried.  He was so upset, and said it reminded him of Ollie, one our cats, when he died about a year ago. 

My sweet little son.  So heartbroken over the loss of that small little life.  So tender-hearted that even the pain of a little bird makes him grieve.  It’s a small ripple, but life is altered when you realize the nearness of death.  As a parent, it’s hard to see my child hurting, but at the same time, I’m proud of his compassion & caring. 

Flowers for the little bird

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Filed under children, death, motherhood, parenting, the kiddo, Uncategorized

History Built in You

“What a co-winky-dink!” My son exclaimed.  I don’t recall what was coincidental; is that terrible??  He went on to say one of his friends had said it at school and he thought it was funny. 

“I haven’t heard that in a long time,” I said.  “We used to say that when I was a kid.” 

“He didn’t make it up?” my son asked, genuinely surprised. 

“No, that one’s been around a long time.”  Seeing a bit of disappointment on my son’s face, I quickly added, “It’s on oldie but a goodie!!”

“Mom,” he said, “you have history built in you.”

I smiled at his graciousness and thought to myself, Thanks, son, for not saying I’m an old know it all.

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Filed under children, me, motherhood, parenting

What I Learned from a Unicorn

One day when I picked up my 10-year-old son from school, he said, “I got you something at the auction.”

Each quarter the kids in his class get to spend the tickets they’ve earned for various tasks like keeping their desk neat & tidy, getting a parent to sign their schedule each night for a week, etc. We parents donate small items and little trinkets like pencils, erasers, party favors, Yu Gi Oh cards, etc.

Just hearing him say he’d bought something for me made me proud of him. Just a few days before, I’d gotten completely frustrated at his continual requests: Can we go to TCBY? Can we stop by QuikTrip? Can we go to Target? Home Depot? The sporting goods store? He didn’t say them one after the other, but still I grew flustered and finally said, “You know, I want a new car. No wait — a pony!! . . . No, I want a unicorn! That’s it! I want a unicorn!!!”

So when I heard he’d used some of his hard earned tickets to buy something for me, I was touched. It didn’t matter what it was; I was just happy that the thought of doing something for someone else had crossed his mind and he had acted on it.

While reaching in his messenger bag, he said, “I did the best I could. Things were going pretty high.” I smiled thinking of him budgeting his tickets, getting something for himself, figuring out if he could “afford” something for me.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed. I did, and when I opened them he was holding a lavender colored, Happy-Meal-sized unicorn.

Even when I was frustrated, my son had been listening. I oooh’ed & aaahhhhh’ed over the little unicorn, trying to hold back tears. I told him it was perfect.

I took it to work so I could look at it throughout the day and be reminded that my little guy was, and is, listening, that I don’t have to beat myself up about being a less than stellar parent. To remind myself that my guy is a pretty special guy.

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