Sometimes there's a little noise...

Stopped by the school office this morning on my way out.
Wanted to thank them for getting some clean leggings for Esme yesterday.

I had contacted her mom, or rather attempted to do so, but she wasn't able to answer her phone. Had it been a real emergency, I could have contacted her employer directly, but I try not to do that unless it's serious.

Since the office staff was still on site yesterday, I called them instead. Esme was back in program within about 10 minutes wearing clean clothing.

They're always willing to help me out at the school if they can, something I appreciate.

I've worked to build those relationships.
They know what to expect from me, and I know what to expect from them.
We know we're all on the same team, trying to do the best we can for our kids.
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This morning there was quite a spectacle in the office.


One of the special ed kids is always dropped off a little after the beginning of the school day, he has a lot of issues with the noise and busy-ness of things, so they have arranged for him to make the transition into his school day in a more calm manner.

I have seen this young person before a few times, but I've heard him at least 25 others.

Many afternoons, about fifteen minutes before dismissal, one can hear him screaming clear at the other end of the building. It seems that he reaches the limits of his endurance before the day ends.

There are usually staff people converging on his location within just a few seconds, I've heard that he gets a little violent.

So when I left this morning, he was in the front office.
He doesn't want to be at school, something that's probably evident within a four block radius of the building. The screaming and crying comes from the depths of his soul. One doesn't have to be terribly brilliant to realize that school doesn't make this little guy happy.

He clings to his mother, clasping his arms around her neck and refusing to let her leave. If his grip slips a little and she manages to take a step away from him, he falls to the floor and throws his arms around her ankles, screaming, "Mom!! Please don't leave me here!! Please!!! MOMMMMM!!!

The people who help with the special ed kids are in the office already, and they go through the process of helping his mom get out of the building while he screams. And screams and screams.

Now I'm no authority on kids with those profound special needs.
And I'll never understand how difficult a child like this is for the parent or parents.
Seeing the way he screams and the desperation on Mom's face fills me with pity for them both. Certainly no winner in the situation. I can't imagine how hard it must be for her to walk away, get into her car and leave. I'm sure she believes that school is where he should be.

I don't like a couple of the people who are working with the sped kids, I've commented before about how gruff they are and how it seems that they're escalating situations that don't have to get out of control.

The person this morning is one of the ones I really don't care for. She was talking to the child, but performing for everyone in the office.

"I WANT MY MOMMMMMM!"
"Your mom has people to see and things to do. You're going to stay here."
"Noooooo!"
"Yes, you are. You must. It's not a choice."
"Nooooo!"
"I told you, your mom has things to do and people to see and places to go. Let's go now."

Of course he doesn't. Instead of winding down, he cranks it up another notch.

Meanwhile, the office staff is still trying to answer phones ("I'm sorry for the screaming in the background here, thank you for calling, I'll mark him excused for the day.") and kids who have shown up late are being redirected to another door so they can be handed a tardy slip and bypass the screaming, or at least have the force of it blunted.

I have no answers to any of it.
I don't know if the child would be better off at home. I don't know anything at all about the situation, all I know is that he doesn't want to be there at school.

Whether they're treating him okay has nothing to do with it, his feelings of trauma and anguish are real and it hurts him to be forced from the arms of his mother into the world of institutionalized schooling.


The teacher in that class is truly a jewel. I've written about her before.
From a post last year:She's one of those rare people whose love for the kids she's taking care of is bigger than the frustrations of their day to day issues. She doesn't take any of it personally. In the mornings after most of them have finished their breakfast, she comes into the cafeteria with a big smile and a kind word for every single one. I can tell as I watch that every child she comes in contact with feels special and cared for. She does a job that would send most people running for cover. She handles them with warmth and grace. I can see the genuine love she has for those kids.

I don't know what his days look like. I don't know if he's calmer once the storm passes. I sincerely hope he manages to find some kind of enjoyment in his class, filled with other kids who need extra help.