I mean, don't get me wrong, there were tears and there was a whole lotta sadness. BUT! I decided to just let them have the time to work it through and we made it to school late, but not in total breakdown state.
Oldest one confessed that he didn't like going to school anymore because his teacher, in her youth and frustration with a class of mostly boys, had taken to slapping him. Mmm hmm. You heard me right. Did the blood rush to your head? Ah good. Mine too.
I didn't show that to him though. I was calm told him I would come in and speak to the teacher and the principal together and we'd make sure that they communicate more with Mummy. So we could take care of things together. Without the hitting.
Now I'll tell you. I swat my kids from time to time. I do. But I exercise judgement that is mine to exercise. And it's never just a swat. There's always some kind of time out (for both of us) and some kind of discussion about what happened and why. And some kind of agreement going forward. And you know what, I don't need to explain this to any damn teacher. The law says don't hit my kids, so just don't stinking hit my kids. Period.
Phew.
So gave me that little news flash, and mostly so that I could calm down, we moved a little slowly yesterday morning, and they went to school on their own speed.
They did ok, and came home happy. (Apparently teacher was fun to be with today - before the frustration settles in!)
And the mail had a special surprise for them today - a set of Bakugan cards (what is with those things?) that didn't make it in time for Christmas. So all in all it was an ok day for them. Although they did ask if I might think about them transferring to a different school. We'll see. I did start inquiries. But PBD had a great point, in that we all need to learn lessons about dealing with difficult people in our lives.
I am going in to speak with the principal today. To make myself present. I am usually all smiles and fun. But don't touch my children. Seriously.
******
In other news. Darling Husband rescued a baby bird yesterday that fell out of a tree. It's a big baby. I'm pretty convinced it's a hawk. Gorgeous thing. He's coming along. He's very alert this morning and isn't favouring his wing like he was last night. He's also drinking water and moving around on his branch (he's in a large cage that we happen to have lying around because what the heck is it with boys and finding pets to love and keep???)
Honestly I wasn't too bothered or too involved in the whole rescue operation. I was pretty busy last night. But I was happy to see them working together and being nurturing and gentle and researching the right things to do.
And I was happy to see them wake early to sit and hand feed him this morning.
And I was happy that they are cleaning up his mess.
I was decidedly not happy to see what they rescued him in.
My good, soft, fluffy, l-a-r-g-e towels.
Seriously? The worn ones weren't good enough for the stinky pooping wild animal?
MEN!
Posts
