“What? So, he never gets a chance to do it right, again? That’s not a solution.”
Still shaking her head, she said in a cloying tone, “You really have a time of it, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” I was silently sending what I hope were telepathic messages to Thorin to hurry it up.
“He ran away from me.”
“Who wouldn’t, you fucking jerk!” I wanted to scream. Instead, I settled for an “Uh huh.”
“He hid in a locker. It took forever to find him.”
“That’s an exaggeration,” using my most snarky voice.
I turned away from her while I continued to wait for Thorin. If I had seen a locker big enough, I would have jumped in it.
Later in the day, I emailed both her and Mrs. Dean.
Hello. Following up on a brief conversation I had with Miss Jane today. Apparently one day, Thorin refused to unlock the bathroom stall for a period of time. Since then he isn’t allowed to use a public restroom, and the bathroom he uses is not allowed to be locked. I think, Miss Jane, you said you put your foot in the door? I think a kid testing the limits is “typical behavior.” Not allowing him privacy ever again, never allows him to do it right. We are requesting Thorin be allowed privacy in the bathroom like any other student.
Tip: Don’t make a big deal out of it, and he won’t have a show to put on for anyone. Thank you.
Mrs. Dean emailed back offering to create a laminated series of cards with the steps of appropriate bathroom behavior for Thorin. Why did she think the problem person in my email was Thorin? I also knew Thorin would have a field day with those cards. And some part of me wanted to agree, only to see what the cards would look like, but I went to the principal instead. I was shocked because she agreed with me. She told both Miss Jane and Mrs. Dean that Thorin deserved privacy and to stop making it an issue.
I didn’t trust Miss Jane to make on-the-spot decisions in Thorin’s best interest because her instinct was to infantilize him. Ward and I didn’t believe in taming Thorin’s development by physical control. Similar to any child, Thorin put us through the paces: running in the street, hiding in the clothing racks at Target, throwing objects, leaving the house without our knowledge, hiding my keys, etc. The list was extensive—no different from other children.
We had been lucky to have Sherry, Thorin’s foster-mother, as our parent coach. One of the best suggestions that she gave me was not to control Thorin, instead teach him self-control. She told me about a former foster child who was a six-year-old girl. Sherry’s home was her third placement, and the girl was known to be a “runner.” When she ran for the first time, Sherry shouted after her, “If you see a bear, stop running!” The girl turned around and went back in the house. I told Sherry if she ever wrote a book about her exploits as a foster mother she should use that advice as the title.
Sherry also told me something that is probably at the heart of parenting: “Parents, especially now, don’t know they can ignore most things. They over-parent. The kid feels overwhelmed, and the parent is tired. What a waste of time.”
In September, we attended an IEP meeting for the annual review of Thorin’s goals. His teacher, Mrs. Bruce, was asked to report first.
“He’s physically aggressive,” she said, sounding scripted and rehearsed.
That didn’t seem like a very nice—or accurate—thing to say about anyone, let alone one of your students. “Exactly how was he aggressive?” I said, seething.
Trisha, our advocate, kicked me hard under the table. Talk about physically aggressive. Then, Ward patted my hand. They were so good cop, bad cop.
“He pushes and pokes the other children,” she explained.
Are you serious?
We had never received the occupational therapist’s report on proprioceptive awareness because she was assigned to a different school. I looked to Thorin’s new occupational therapist; it seemed they only listened to each other, not Ward or me.
“Your colleague described that as proprioceptive awareness.”
She smiled. “Okay.”
To Mrs. Dean’s credit, she said, “I don’t think we should label Thorin’s behavior as physically aggressive. He’s not aggressive.”
The occupational therapist smiled again and said, “Okay.”
I couldn’t stomach any of them. The truth appeared to be a moving target. And, I was the mother bear who was inept at defending her young. Every move led Thorin further into a trap, a snare.
After the meeting, I emailed Trisha and told her I wanted to homeschool. I had no idea how we could actually do that and I hadn’t even said anything to Ward. I had to get Thorin out of there. She emailed back.
Homeschooling is not a great option now. Laws are changing about homeschooling and related services, which could mean Thorin would not get any services from the district. It would be all out of pocket. We have to get through the evaluations first. We can fix this.
I didn’t mention my email or response from Trisha to Ward and hoped we could fix this.
The following week, the school nurse called to say Thorin had wet himself. I went to the school.
“He never goes when I go with him. Then, he wets himself,” Miss Jane informed me.
“What do you mean, when you go with him?”
“I stand outside the door.”
“No, do not do that,” my frustration evident. “Has it occurred to you he isn’t comfortable going to the bathroom with you right outside the door?”
WTF! Hadn’t we already gone over this? Leave him the fuck alone in the bathroom!
“What do you want me to do?”
I wanted to scream, “Be better at your job!” Instead, I told her I had to think this through, which became my new comeback to the worst
