A tough decision

Had a nice day off. Took the kids to school at a more leisurely pace. When we arrived at Ella’s school, her director greeted me with, “I’ve been thinking of your son all night.” We confirmed that I would bring Harrison for a trial run next week.

Dropped Harrison off with his one hundredth message of love, support and reminders not to hit, bite, kick, or spit. “You can be mad, just don’t hurt your friends.” He happily jumped into the Lego pile with a couple of the other boys. I walked over to his regular teacher and expressed my concern about yesterday’s events. She seemed much more in tune, than the director, with the fact that the instability in the classroom is causing many of the kids to act out. I felt a little better after the conversation.

It was nice to have some time at home alone.. I read some blogs, cleaned the kitchen and rubbed the marker artwork off the wool rug that the kids had created last night. Washable markers have got to be one of the greatest inventions ever. I was energized by all the supportive comments I got from all of you and started to seriously consider what it would take to move Harrison to his sister’s school. My mom called, and after hearing the latest news about Harry, gave me some words of advice. “Move him to the nurturing school. His current school is more suited for kids who aren’t as sensitive - who are able to let these kind of things (his teacher leaving) roll off their back.” After a great lunch with Beth and a work buddy, I came home to laundry and more cleaning. It was so nice just to have the time to do all of this without the kids undoing everything.

I was anxious to pick up Harrison this afternoon because it seems that things get worse for him later in the day. As I entered the classroom and signed him out, the kids were all at the tables by the door doing an art project. Voices of the kids yelled to me, “Harrison’s in the office”, over and over. The sub teacher did not say anything. I walked across the room to get his coat and papers. As I walked back up to the door, fuming, the teacher looked at me and said, “Harrison is in the office.” “I gathered, “ was my response even though I wanted to say, “No shit, Sherlock!”

My heart was racing as I walked down the hall towards the office. As I approached, there was Harrison sitting in a chair outside of the actual “office” being scolded by a substitute teacher. It was hard to watch, but I let her finish as she was almost done. Harry saw me and raced over to hug my leg. The teacher approached me to tell me about his offense and was still very upset. “He apparently did this yesterday, too, because he told me he hurt someone else.” That was about all I could take. “Yes,” I responded, “He was written up. I’m fully aware (even if you aren’t and probably don’t even know his name!) I don’t think this is working for him. Your classes are too big for him. I think this might be his last day.” I don’t know why I told her all that. I was just sooooo mad and frustrated. I felt terrible for Harrison and yet I was mad at him, too. I grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the school quickly. By the time we reached the parking lot, my mind was made up – he was never going back there.

By the time we got to Ella’s school (about a mile down the road), Harrison explained to me why he hurt his friend. He spoke more clearly about his feelings than he usually does and I understood where his anger had come from. I repeated my use-your-words-not-your-hands lecture and he seemed relieved that I didn’t yell. I asked Ella’s teacher if Harrison could come tomorrow and she assured me he was welcome.

I announced my decision to Chris when we got home and he fully agreed. He’s a great writer – much better with things like this – and is planning to write the director and corporate about how we are feeling after the last few weeks events.

Another change. Another transition. I can only hope that the community at Ella's school can engulf him with their kind and nurturing spirit and purge the anger within my little man.