It’s Getting Pretty Lonely.
On Friday after school, immediately upon seeing me, Shane announced, “They announced the patrols today and I failed.”
The school patrols are the kids who help the little ones across the street. They are chosen after teachers score all of the fourth graders on their level of maturity and responsibility.
And Shane thinks he failed this little “test.”
To make matters substantially worse, of the 20 patrols chosen, seven of them are close friends of Shane’s.
And Shane only has eight friends.
It’s a status symbol, to be a patrol. They have patrol parties, patrol training, patrol lunches, and even a patrol camp. To do their daily jobs, patrols get to school early and stay late – which means that all of Shane’s friends – the ones he’s been running to see every morning for months – will be too busy working to talk to Shane.
Worst of all, Shane would make an excellent patrol. He is responsible, mature, polite, and professional. Shane follows the rules to the letter. He would have been a perfect fit for the patrol job.
But Shane was overlooked. Again.
Shane went through something similar last year, when his closest friends got into the GT program, or were (at least) waitlisted. Shane didn’t even get waitlisted. We weren’t heartbroken, because Shane really didn’t need the GT program, but it was a blow. Just like with the patrols, he watched as all of his friends wandered off into the sunset without him.
So this morning, Shane wrote a song. It’s sitting next to me here, in a notebook full of misspelled words by a 10-year-old boy who never says much about his feelings. I fixed the misspellings for inclusion here.
I walk to school every morning; same thing happens every day.
No one seems to notice me; no one even cares
Because I’m invisible, yeah; ’cause I’m invisible, yeah
Just plain invisible, yeah – and it’s getting pretty lonely.
I cried when he sang it for me. And now I just want to crawl into a hole – or jump up and down screaming for him to get some well-deserved positive attention.
But I don’t scream, and I don’t crawl into a hole. I just write, and I pray.
I love his gift for writing, too. It’s always helped me get through tough times – even now, with this blog. I’m sorry he made you (and me) cry, but I think you’re right: it’s a testament how we all feel. Keep praying. It sure doesn’t hurt.
Aside from the fact that I’m crying, I am totally impressed with the song. It’s a wonderful gift that he can write so well and express his feelings. I believe thousands of kids feel the same way he does. Shane may not “peak” in elementary school, but he is a gifted, amazing person. He’s going to be okay. I’m praying too.