If one of those bottles should happen to fall, 98 bottles of beer on the wall! 98 bottles of beer on the wall, 98 bottles of beer, if one of those bottles should happen to fall…
Oh, so you think that’s repetitive? Well- HAH I tell you! And HAH again!
Sometimes… I feel like I’m stuck in one of those horrible repetitive dream slash nightmares. You know the kind where you’re trying to wake yourself up but you feel like you’ve lost your voice and you can’t move… or something like that.
Damien and I have been home a couple of days with head colds slash sinusitis, nothing too serious, and then last night, just after 7, I get this text message:
Dear Mrs Surname-withheld. (yup, wrong- and people make this mistake so often its frightening!) Would you pls call me when you are feeling better. I want to discuss something informal about Damien. Pref before next Tuesday. Get well soon. Mr M
So I waited till today to call him, and I was hoping “informal” meant “not serious”… but I knew better. He tells me he’s worried about Damien. That he was caught bunking his class too, but that he didn’t report it and instead went looking for Damien himself. He found him in the parking lot, not smoking- but with a girl who has also been caught smoking before. He also tells me Damien’s changed since the beginning of the year, that in the beginning he was positive, and now he pessimistic and negative and he thinks he may be hanging out with the wrong crowd. He knows I don’t want to hear stuff like that, but he feels duty bound to tell me because he likes Damien and feels he has a lot of potential. And then he utters those dreaded words, “…maybe this isn’t the right school for your child…” Then he tells me there’s another school not far from Damien’s, and he thinks maybe Damien would be happier there. Would I mind if he sent me the school’s contact details? Then he reiterates how much he likes Damien and how he wishes he could do more. I thank him and hang up.
Then I have a chat with Damien about him bunking this teacher’s class. He says he hadn’t done his homework and this other girl convinced him to bunk with her. I ask him what’s happening at school and he says nothing. He says all his friends have left the school to be home schooled, I ask him about a few people whose names I remember and he says he doesn’t know where they hang out anymore- so he’s spending his breaks alone. OUCH! BIG OUCH! My heart aches for my poor child!
FOUR FIVE SIX PEOPLE!
Do you have any idea how I long for a “regular” kid right now, and how much I hate myself for putting those thoughts “on paper”. Do you have any idea how it feels to get a lump in your throat every bloody time the phone rings during a school day, how I wish I could go to a parents evening and quietly sit and page through my sons books and admire his work like so many parents I see, instead of being summoned to parents evening with pre-booked timeslot and my name on half his teacher’s appointment lists? Granted I get to jump the queue… but still!
And you know what- I clean forgot to ask him what next Tuesday had to do with anything…
There Is Never An Excuse
One in three is not a statistic - one in three is a crying shame.