The Saga Continues

Previously on You Get What You Get, WG complained a lot.

So we met with RP yesterday, and as soon as we were seated, Mr. WG began.

“What happened yesterday was not OK,” he said. “You didn’t even try to manage D. You just gave up and sent him home at 8:20. What could he possibly have done in that amount of time?”

“Well,” said RP, “Let me tell you from my standpoint what happened. I walked down the hall, and I heard banging on the door. I looked to see what was going on, and there was D., banging, crying that he wanted to leave, and Assistant was struggling with him. I asked where Teacher was, and Assistant said she was sick. I asked if she was coming at all, and Assistant said that yes, she would be here, but she was sick and running late. I asked where Shadow was, and Assistant said she was in Israel. I asked what the plan was, and she said there was no plan.”

So. He sees a child in the three-year-old class crying. And his reaction is to call me to come get him. I don’t know about you, but I really see it as D. was sent home from school for having special needs.

Fine. So we clarified why that was NOT a good decision, but then we moved on to the bigger question: why twice in a row, we got conflicting messages from the school about what was OK.

Mr. WG related Teacher’s call from the previous day, stating that she couldn’t understand why D. went home and had she been there, it wouldn’t have happened. RP’s face showed astonishment.

“She tells me all the time that she can’t handle him in the classroom without a shadow,” he said.

We did several rounds of that, and then turned our attention to The Big Meeting scheduled for Thursday.

“I’m just not sure that I need to bring my people into this meeting right now,” I said. “I think we first need to figure out if Teacher wants him in the class at all, or if I need to be looking for an alternate placement now.”

RP concurred. So it was settled – The Big Meeting would remain at the same time, but the participants and the purpose would change slightly.

Mr. WG and I peeked in on the kids in their classes and left.

I then proceeded to tell pretty much everyone I ran into about the events of Monday and Tuesday, which was perhaps not nice of me, but in my defense I was hurting. I am hurting. I’m hurting on the level of, This is my life, forever. I’m hurting on the level of not being able to turn to my parents for support. I’m hurting on the level of always thinking in the back of my head that the people around me are thinking, shut UP already about your stupid kid.

Today, when I picked up the boys, SubShadow came out. (By the way, this is SO mean, but D. is almost taller than SubShadow. Dude is SHORT.) I asked SubShadow how the day went. He grinned. “It was great. D. played with other kids, didn’t try to run away at all, and he loved Hebrew movement. He was dancing and singing with everyone.”

“And at circle time?” I asked.

“At circle time and davening, he was in and out, but mostly in. He was OK, and when he left, it was easy to bring him back.”

I thanked him and loaded the boys in the car. As I buckled Baby J., Teacher came out. “Hi-i,” she sang brightly. “How are you?”

“It’s all good,” I said, my stock answer to that question.

“”I just wanted to tell you that he—“ she gestured to SubShadow-“is great. He’s fantastic with D. D. is better than ever. He really loves having the male influence around, and it’s just terrific.”

“Great!” I said, remembering to smile.

I drove home, brought the boys in and told Mr. WG what Teacher had said.

“She’s a psycho,” he said. “You can’t trust anything she says.”

I, of course, began to wonder if I had misjudged her and maybe she really is great. But that, according to Mr. WG, is her plan. By being nice and positive to me today, she makes me what to be nice and positive in the meeting tomorrow.

Well.

We’ll see.