Epistle: To Yoni, On the Occasion Of Being Called Into Your School

Dear Yoni,

So, like a week and a half ago, your guidance counselor called and asked how things were going.

"Um, fine? I mean, we're at home, and we're starting the last round of treatment soon, and everything's good, and Yoni's been really happy, and blah blah..."



After a few minutes, I realized she wasn't saying anything.

"Was there... something you wanted to talk about?"

"Well, yes. There have been some... incidents."

"What?"

"Just some... we feel that... Yoni is having trouble being his best self."



I pressed her for details, Yon-yon, but she didn't give me any. Instead, she asked to meet with me and Daddy, and we talked about something towards the end of this week, but then a few days later she called and said that the meeting would be Sunday morning at 8am.

That day, when you came home, I asked if something had happened at school.



"It wasn't my fault," you said. And slowly, you told a somewhat horrifying story about a science experiment using acid and rocks and how another student took acid on his eraser and put it on your shirt and so you had NO CHOICE but to do the same thing back to him, and Yoni, I must confess that I was pretty certain we were rearing a serial killer. ACID??? REALLY??? That's why, when you told me about the goodbye party for the substitute teacher, and you told me that even though THE WHOLE SCHOOL KNOWS that you HATE chocolate, two girls announced that they were making chocolate balls, and so maybe I could make meringue cookies, THAT'S why I said yes. Because I figured that then, years later, when your serial killer nature revealed itself and inevitably the media blamed your mother, I could tell them that I MADE THE COOKIES.



So then it was Sunday morning, and we came into the meeting, and basically what they told us was that you, Yoni, are awesome, and we, your parents, are NOT SUPPORTING YOU ENOUGH IN YOUR AWESOMENESS.



Apparently, twice last year there were these projects that they deliberately assigned you so that you could stand up in front of the class and present them, becuase you LOVE presenting, and then you came home and told us you needed to do these projects and we were like, "Oh, Yoni, we can't get you any supplies or help at all because we are SO TIRED and YOUR BROTHER HAS CANCER," and you went back to school and told your teacher that you were sorry, but your parents could not help you and you could not do these projects, and they wanted to make sure that, you know, we stopped dropping the ball. WE, not YOU. You, Yoni, you are AWESOME. It's just that your parents kind of suck lately.



So,Yoni, this is my way of saying that I am sorry. I am sorry that you have been getting short shrift. This has been happening for basically your whole life, so you're probably not even fazed by it, but it's not okay. I'm sorry that I have not been good enough. I promise to try to be better, because you deserve better.

I love you.

Love,
Mommy