Today started out wonderfully. I got all my floppies up to date and ran hard copies of all my files, as per instructions from the head honchos. I did a rough outline of my training plans for 2000, and got it faxed to the appropriate people. I did the agenda for my Child Development class (my parent group), which is tomorrow. I handled lots of minor problems, solved a couple little mysteries, visited all the classrooms, spurred on our new maintenance person, and generally felt like this job is doable. You know a THEN is coming. Sure enough. Around two-ish, when I was thinking I could get out to the library for some resources, I heard my favorite little one
crying. I admit to being very tied to this boy; I have discussed him before. Because of this, I didn't want to interfere, so I let his teacher try to take care of it. I went back into my office, but I could still hear him. He sounded frightened, or terribly sad;not angry. I grit my teeth, willing the teacher to respond to his pain, but it continued. Finally, I could hear him coming down the hall toward the bus, still sobbing. I couldn't stand it. I walked down to the doorway, where teacher was putting him on the bus. He was nearly hysterical by this time. I said to the teacher, "I'm going to get on to see if I can calm him down. He's terribly upset and unhappy." She shrugged. I got on and sat with him, my arm around him, crooning, "You're so unhappy. What can I do?" He quieted for a couple minutes and leaned on me. Then, as I began to get up, he started in again, holding out his arms, and sobbing. His teacher said, "He wants Debbie (another teacher). But all he has done today is hit her. She won't come down." I had to leave him like this. The bus driver tried to reassure me, but I was close to tears myself. This little guy has had so much sadness in his life. I couldn't bear his leaving school feeling that way. I talked to the head teacher in his class. She said she would look into it, because she felt he had had a good day. I talked to the site supervisor, who suggested I ask for a case conference. The disabilities advisor put her arms around me to comfort me and said she would get to the bottom of it. Unfortunately, the teacher who was so unconcerned and who didn't seem to even try to help him is from the agency we collaborate with. Our philosophies are very different, and we can't do anything about their staff. I was so frustrated and upset that I needed to get out of there. No way. Another serious problem had arisen, again not our responsibility, but the bus company's (not with my little one, thankfully)and the site manager had to take care of that. So she left me with yet another emotional problem of a parent who felt insulted by a teacher (ours, this time), and was hysterical on the phone. I had to talk to her, calm her down, then deal with the teacher. I came home (too late to walk, which might have helped my churning emotions), started dinner, and collapsed. If I look at the situation with the child with objective eyes, I know that the head teacher will take care of it, so it won't happen again. But my eyes are still too full of tears for that heart-rending cry to be objective. And, for the child, that hour-long ride on the bus, in such a turmoil, must have been an eternity.
I've been visiting a couple of my favorite journals tonight (besides Lyra's, that is), and I'm so impressed by the photos and the graphics. I'm really getting antsy to learn how to do all these things. Then, I get home, make dinner, do dishes, and have just about enough energy left to write, never mind learn something new on this machine. Well, I could be retired in less than two years, and then I WILL learn to be clever. (I particularly like the tiled background on Rant and Rejoice's page)
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