The day started like any other at the special needs club where all organisers are volunteers.
Taking about half an hour to set up, and then clear up at the end, those of us who do the majority of the work can spectacularly fail in our own parenting skills while we try miserably to give new members some attention, with half an eye on any potential squabbles or blood drawing incidents.
We do TRY to keep our eyes on our own kids, and do all we can for the new members with a chat, a coffee and some time out for them. Some need to talk about diagnosis and schooling, and hope that those of us who are further down the line have some gems of wisdom to impart. I am not ashamed to admit that my imperfection as a mother can spill dramatically out into my public life.
Some lovely new members have arrived over the last few weeks. We old hands recognise the symptoms as we’ve all been there. A freshly frown lined face with grimace attached is permanently on show with the shocked new diagnotants. Some are relieved to find a friendly voice, or just to have 5 minutes being told that feeling guilty is normal.
Others are reassured to hear that sometimes little kids who have disabilities are actually just acting like little kids, with nothing to do with the diagnosis.
Before I tell this story, I have to set the scene as I may have to make sure I duck incoming missiles of potential fallout when crossed eyes settle on my sour face of blabbery if this gets out.
With slight trepidation, I followed the janitor to a room which had been broken into. I say broken into, but really, the glass panel slid easily aside. The as yet to be determined culprit was rumbled because the walls had been whitewashed for the return of kiddies to the new term, which was only 36 hours away. Unknown kiddie winks had climbed in and left a dirty great footprint on the wall.
Gathering all the kiddies and their parents into the offending room, we spy the whiteboard which has been decorated and included F*** You, F*** You, You Ass**** in what looked like two different children’s handwriting.
Swallowing hard, I sort of recognised the writing of one of my brood of perfect little darlings. In the way that your heart sinks when you realise you could actually be responsible for the potential kicking out of said club from premises forever, I keep my opinion in check. All the kids stayed silent when they were asked if they knew anything about it. Of course they did. Who wants to get outed and spoil potential future young Banksyesq fame in public.
Animated faces walked back to the large play area, and theories abounded as to the guilty party. Someone points their hand at middler and says that it was him. Kids jump on the bandwagon, and soon his face blushes as red as a beetroot.
“It was me.” he shouted, face getting redder, and repeating it over and over while he stamped his feet.
I sort of inappropriately laughed, and then said:
“He can’t write, and he can’t write his name yet, so how on earth was he going to be able to do the writing on the whiteboard.”
“How do you know he can’t write?” says a voice.
I was at a loss for words. He might not have far to go to reach my height, but I’d know if he could write his name.
I repeat :
“He can’t spell and can’t write, so the only person in the whole room that it definitely was NOT, was middler.”
Quick as lightening, a new parent who is a teacher moves in behind me and delivers the killer accusation.
Standing in front of middler, she says:
“Spell you.”
He looks at her as if she’s grown three heads.
So there it is. The accusation in two tiny words. No direct standing and pointing her finger at me. A snidy, teachery attempt at making me look a fool.
Here I sit, in front of my keyboard.
I’m a liar, a fraud and I’ve been challenged in public.
Challenged in front of my friends, my peers, and my fellow special needs parents.
Seething in silence, I couldn’t trust my voicebox to behave. I remained tight lipped and dipped my head as I clasped my clenched fists to my shoulder, in a vain bid to pull out the offending dagger thrust at me.
With a real live actual fraudulent uttering of epic proportions, we’ve found out who actually did the dirty deed. My initial suspicions proved spot on the money. The non-existent CCTV that would miraculously appear in the next fortnight to identify the perpetrators, made the convicts sing as sweet as a canary.
It wasn’t middler.
“Polishes knuckles on sleeve.”
As a teacher and a new Mum, I’m appalled that this woman said that to your son – it is appalling and incredibly immature – you were right to say nothing at the time – I would be very wary of her (as I’m sure you are) and say nothing at present – she will continue to show her true colours and anyone who was there who had an ounce of wit would see how horrible she was being and how controlled you were and how much integrity you have.
Keep it up 🙂
Love your blog, by the way – it’s giving me inspiration as I’ve just started!
I don’t know how she thought I wouldn’t realise what she was doing. Perhaps she is used to treating parents like that. I hope my kids never get a teacher like that, though one unfortunately got a Head Teacher who was similar.
That sounds very unpleasant indeed, and is the parent still attending? We had one lovely child at the club I help to organise who snuck out of sight and had fun with some bottles of paint before he was found. We just all mucked in a cleaned up all the mess, but I know the Mum concerned felt awkward about it xx
She will still be attending and I will try and deal with it sensitively. It’s probably one of those things that I possibly shouldn’t have blogged now that I am more out in the open, and I’m sure she forgot it instantly, but I haven’t.
You did well to stay calm and controlled and I’m so glad the truth of the situation came out. I could feel my stomach churning as I read it. This would be the sort of thing that would eat me up. Hope you are all ok post the incident.
We’re all fine. The kids didn’t realise what was going on. Middler was trying to take the blame to make the issue go away, as he hates things to interfere with his club.
The resentment of it has unreasonably grown over the week since it happened I have to say, and I don’t like how it made me feel. Blogging is cathartic. If doctors could prescribe blogging, I think half the western worlds issues would be solved.
The conduct of that new parent is awful; I would hate to think that she may behave like that in class. Intimidating and unprofessional. I agree with Abegail about letting her know the truth of the situation. Deb
I will have to mention it at some point. I’m not quite sure how I will approach it yet though.
You may hesitate to call someone a liar — especially if you think there’s a chance that you’re wrong — but it’s important to let her know that you know the truth.
I suspect she perhaps thinks that as I am not a teacher – and I have a child like middler, that I am slightly lacking in intelligence and wouldn’t have picked up on it. Some things I can let go, but this is one that really has irked me.
I’d be hopping mad if someone did that to me. I don’t know how you managed to stay quiet.
I was, as you know. I seethed quietly until the end of the session, but it will need to be brought up.
What a terrible sequence of events. I think you were so professional and controlled about the whole incident. I would like to think I would behave as you did but I feel furious and sad for you reading this. How dare the new parent, not exactly how to become popular and accepted, never mind how that will reflect on her teaching style!
Thank you. I didn’t feel professional, I just felt a “here we go again” scenario with midder. Teachers don’t seem to be his strong point 🙁 Am glad we got to the bottom of it, as that woman was obviously not going to believe my near 12 yo who can talk the hind legs off a donkey can’t read or write even 2 letter words.