Why Would He Do This?!?
It’s like a bad joke. A really repetitive, never ending, tiresome and very bad joke.
So it’s appropriate that I write this for April Fool’s Day, I suppose. But it’s a bad joke. Not a fun prank. Not something I want to keep living, day after day after day.
I had just finished putting the final touches on the Easter baskets. I had one more small item to squish in there, so I ran out to the store. I felt great – spring had sprung, and life was glorious. Best of all, Dylan was doing so well!
Then I got home and checked my email.
There were two “confidential report” emails from two of Dylan’s teachers. These are behavior incident reports – things that were so bad, the parents have to be notified.
One said:
“During a bathroom break today, Dylan placed textbooks and an umbrella in front of the boys bathroom door while it was occupied. The student in the bathroom at the time felt ‘barricaded in’ by the action. Although Dylan is allowed time to take a minute outside of class, moving materials in the hall and obstructing doors is not appropriate. In response, Dylan spent (recess) today in the office.”
The other said:
“During Science class, Dylan asked to use the restroom and I gave permission. However, after doing so he left the building and went to another building to get earphones for his friend. Middle school students are required to be escorted between buildings.”
These reports describe some child I’ve never met. Since he’s been going to this private school – with all the freedom and flexibility in the world – Dylan’s completely run amok.
I’ve never had reason to use that term before, but it fits. My child has run amok.
My first thought upon reading these reports was: WHY WOULD HE DO THIS?!?
My next thoughts poured out in an email to the headmaster – which I sent without re-reading:
“I know that the school is a wonderful, peaceful place that allows the kids to move around freely. I also know that Dylan is allowed “frequent breaks” on his learning plan. But this is a boy who absolutely does NOT need to go to the bathroom during the school day.
I’m considering having Dylan – even if it’s ONLY Dylan – be restricted to sitting in the classroom, away from the other kids, with no possibility of bathroom breaks or moving around inside the room. I realize that this sounds like prison. And it completely defeats the purpose of our bringing Dylan there in the first place. But if he can’t learn to be respectful in a ‘free’ environment, then perhaps he shouldn’t be allowed to be so ‘free.'”
Five minutes later, the phone rang. It was the headmaster.
“Spring is here,” she told me, “and the kids are very excited. The teachers are having an extra-hard time reigning them in. But this is not an emergency.”
“You don’t think we need to chain him to his desk?” I asked.
“I don’t,” she said. “We are seeing some improvements in his behavior. This time of year is always hard. We’ll just keep working with him on our end, and you keep working with him on your end.”
I wanted to crawl through the wire and kiss her. Well, except it was a wireless phone, and I’m not sure there are any wires through which to crawl.
Basically, she told me to take a deep breath and forget about it.
I’m starting to believe that if I would just learn to reassure myself, all of my anxieties would vanish.