Monthly Archives: June 2014

Negative And Then Positive End to the School Year

It’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve posted anything.

Lots has been going on, but in an effort to be positive, I haven’t focused on the crap that’s happened at our school and the behaviour that teachers believe they can get away with when it comes to our children. And this time I’m not referring to the teachers of our child with Asperger’s, but rather our daughter and the rather cold, nasty teachers she had this year. But by not writing of it, I’ve been stuck and unable to form a full post (several drafts await editing/saving though)

I find it very stressful confronting anyone and yet I had to do it with them and carefully used the correct language about how as adults in a position of authority need to choose their words and expressions carefully. That dismissing the hard work of a student as “not worth their time” is not an appropriate way to speak to anyone, let alone a child. I called a very last minute meeting with the principal, frustrated at how my child was in tears yet again over class work and how her teacher was treating her. I gave him no option, sending him an email that I was on my way to the school and expected him to meet us in the office. To his credit he did, and actually called the two teachers in question out of class to join us. But that was the only positive part of it.

Excuses to justify their actions were made (two teachers, one English, one French backing each other’s bad behaviour up in an unprecedented show of callousness at our meeting) and I called them on each one. I spoke to one then the other teacher. Both replied with a cold “Ok” clearly indicating “yeah whatever.” The principal lifted his head off the table (yes really!) long enough to look at me when I told him (in front of the teachers) that their behaviour was unacceptable, that instead of supporting and helping their students they were destroying the children’s confidence.

Then without preamble or apology the teachers stood up, left our (admittedly last minute meeting) and left for another meeting. Rude, cold and unbelievable that they are teachers! (If they had offered an ounce of politeness that they’d had a prearranged meeting already then I would have been fine with them leaving, clearly my words were not having an effect) I spoke a bit further to the principal, though my words seemed to have little effect.

When we got in the van, my daughter and I had a few good minutes of saying all the bad things we needed to say, and the joy in getting to say bad words I think took a bit of the sting out of the situation for her.

My husband followed up with the principal and was told that he and the vice-principal had spoken to the teachers about their behaviour in the classroom. I was doubting how effective this was until this week when my daughter told me that after that day both teachers refused to pick her to answer a question even when she was clearly the only one in the class with her hand up. Really? Child-ish, petty, nasty behaviour from an elementary school teacher?! Sigh.

On a much more positive note, we toured our son’s new school for next year. It was a tough decision to move him for his last year of elementary, but as I’ve noted above their current school isn’t a nurturing, supportive environment. From the moment we stepped into the office we were welcomed. The SERT, a lovely lady, introduced us to several people from the principal, to teachers, the librarian and a custodian. All welcomed us with big smiles and told us that we would love it there. We spotted a former classmate of my son’s and he was welcomed to go say hi to her.

Both of us left that experience feeling at peace with our decision to move him. He feels calmer about it, less nervous. And we were welcomed to make an appointment to meet his teacher in August and get more details about his busing. Yes the bus may prove to be a challenge but so far it looks like his request to sit at the front will be respected.

Looking forward to the positive things to come, and releasing the negative experiences (not to be forgotten at all but to be set aside so that they don’t affect our summer holiday).

I’ll blog about our year end camping in another post!

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I Never Expected this to Happen in the Schoolyard

I rarely go into the school yard any more. Haven’t for a couple of years. The two older kids are “too old” for mom to hang around with the other moms in the yard. “Too old” to be seen hugging and kissing me.

I have carefully respected these feelings. When I walk them to school, I stop at the crossing guard, watch them across the street, then continue on my walk. We created a signal (fist bump and hand clap) to represent hug and kiss.

The two weeks though, the street their school is on has been plagued by heavy construction as curbs are replaced and parts are resurfaced so we have been taking an alternate route to school. It leads me though away from the lake where I like to walk our dog and baby each morning. So I have been walking around the back of the school yard to a bike path on the other side which gets me around the construction and out to my typical walking area.

Walking through that yard brings back quite a bit of nostalgia. Watching the little kids in Kindergarten, the slightly bigger kids lining up to go into the primary grades, the hovering parents standing in clumps waiting to make sure their little one gets into the school safely.

I don’t know why it causes so much nostalgia, I mean I know I’ll be back there again in a few short years. But by then the older two will both be in high school (even the thought of that takes my breath away– weren’t they just in kindergarten yesterday?)

Yesterday morning we were running a little later than usual and I barely got a chance to fist bump them as they ran to get in the doors. A mom walking back up towards the street looked at me, indicated my eldest and said “He’s yours?”

“Yes.” I said a bit warily, dreading what I was about to hear.

“I just wanted to tell you that your son is amazing. I know he’s had a rough year and that no one has said that to you. But he’s really great.”

I think I said “Thank you.” I certainly hope I did. Who was this woman? And what has she done with the typical way people avoid talking about him.

We ended up chatting for about twenty minutes or so. It turns out that she is a lunch supervisor and has gotten to know my son that way.

What she doesn’t know is that those lunch hours when she chatted with him, that she was providing much needed social interaction for him. The kind that many parents avoid with him. The kind that you can’t force people to do.

When I told my son about her and her compliment, he got a HUGE smile and said “She’s nice. I like her.”

And for me? That woman showed me that even in the wrong school, the right people can still be there. That someone saw our son for who he really is. Not for what his challenges are.

She made my day. No. She just made the rough year fade back a bit. And for that I am grateful.

How Many Blog Posts Does it Take?

The first weekend I was ever at my husband’s family cottage I coined the phrase “How many Wilsons does it take to_________?” after watching my husband and his brothers and father consult each other for every decision around the property. I knew that I’d been around the family a while when this year my mother-in-law included me in that phrase after I chimed in with an opinion on how far we had to swing the  heavy dock before we could continue pushing it out into the water. Touche.

I think though that the more accurate phrase to apply to me is “How many blog posts does it take to____________?” In this case, it’s How many blog posts does it take to get a working fridge in my kitchen?

My poor hubby. It’s not his fault. Honestly it’s not.

After staying at home for a couple of days after a wisdom tooth removal, he was ready to get out and do something, anything, and he chose to buy a new fridge. Who was I to argue with that? I mean I drove so that he could still take his pain killers…

He must have been further under the influence of those pain meds than I thought as we almost came home with a new washer and dryer too. (Again… who am I to argue this?) But reason and rationality (and a grumpy toddler refusing to nap) won out and we purchased a fridge. It was the first one that fit the bill (yes he insisted we look at all the others too, but honestly it’s stainless and fits the space we currently have (if you have read my prior posts about the old fridge dying or the “new” fridge dying, then you will know that this is a “temporary” measure until our dream kitchen is built in a few years.) So what more could we need?

Delivery day led to some nervousness… would it fit through the front hall (past the hunk that sits there still?) or would it have to go around back? Hubby and one of his brothers removed the ancient sliding doors somewhat carefully. I’m still not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed that they didn’t break. The delivery guys were ecstatic that there was such an easy way in. It was in our home within a few short minutes and then they were gone.

And I have a fridge in my kitchen!

It feels kind of weird actually. My kitchen seems smaller. But not having to go to the front hall or garage just to get one more thing for dinner is nice.

So I think the answer is “2”. Two blog posts to get a new fridge. So far I’m on three, and the hunk is still in the hall… but garbage day is tomorrow and one can always hope.