A Day Such As This
My previous post had not been published an hour when my cell phone rang at work. In the moment it took to identify herself I realized that the principal of LM's school, calling me at work is not a good sign. I was certain she wasn’t calling to wish LM a very Happy Birthday.
LM had another altercation at school. I'm not sure if I wrote about the first incident, but it involved being kicked on the playground and in response, yelling down the crowded school hallway that he was going KILL that person. (Didn't fare well with the "zero tolerance for violence" policy at school.) Today, a girl took his bag of birthday cookies at lunch (the ones he brought for the class) and even after she admitted guilt to the lunch aide, LM socked her in the back. LM found himself at in-school suspension. Again. On his 10th birthday. I listened to the principal. I agreed that he made a bad choice. We both agreed that the girl had provoked him, but still. I said I was coming to get him, I didn’t see the sense in him sitting in the counselor’s office all afternoon.
Upon arriving at the school, I had a nice conversation with the counselor. LM was there, too. None of us feel that he has underlying issues that are surfacing at these moments. He really does seem okay with the divorce and such according to the counselor. He just has trouble in those first ten seconds after someone really gets to him of using good judgment. The moment it is over, LM admits he did wrong. He takes full responsibility for losing control and knows that he made a bad decision. All those things are encouraging signs. He doesn’t mean to be malicious, and it isn’t that he doesn’t know right from wrong. He just has a temper that erupts every now and again that he needs to control better.
The thing of it that gets me is that I NEVER see this side of him. Neither his father nor myself are “yellers” nor do we strike out or throw things in anger. At home, if LM loses his temper, he tends to sulk, to give you the “death glare” but he never yells or hits or in any way erupts like he has at school.
The counselor and I both reminded LM that he had every right to be angry when the girl took his cookies. Every right. What she did was wrong. But the reaction was wrong. He knew that. He was incredibly remorseful.
We came home and I just sat for awhile. LM went to his room on his own. I finally told him that I wasn’t done talking about the incident, I just wasn’t sure what to say right now and I needed a little time. He said he understood and apologized for “ruining my day”. His dad came to the house about an hour or so later and we talked for quite awhile about what to do now. None of the typical consequences would truly address the problem. How does taking away his PlayStation change those 10 seconds of reaction time? It was obvious that LM understood what he had done wrong and truly felt horrible about it. He hated that it happened on his birthday, too.
We decided to talk about it again in a few days, after the birthday parties are over. Honestly, I don’t think at this point we’ll do too much in terms of a punishment. I think his heart hurt plenty today. I do think I’ll talk with a child psychologist at some point before too long. While none of us think there’s something underneath the surface, maybe there is and we just don’t know. I certainly don’t want to see this problem escalate and Lord knows the issues between kids is going to get far more personal that someone taking your cookies.
After LM left with his dad to have their birthday celebration together, I talked with my dad and then my sister. Afterwards I loaded Gabe up in the car and we went off to play with the puppies. Nothing like an evening at the park to clear your mind. As I write this, I’m sitting out on my deck, surrounded by beautiful plants, finding peace in my little flower garden.
10 years ago, on the night that LM was born, when all was said and done, J asked me who I wanted to call first. I said, with eyes full of tears, “I want to call my mom.” My mom had passed away, unfortunately, three years before LM was born. Tonight, just like the night I became LM’s mother, I wish beyond all wishes that I could talk with my mom.
LM had another altercation at school. I'm not sure if I wrote about the first incident, but it involved being kicked on the playground and in response, yelling down the crowded school hallway that he was going KILL that person. (Didn't fare well with the "zero tolerance for violence" policy at school.) Today, a girl took his bag of birthday cookies at lunch (the ones he brought for the class) and even after she admitted guilt to the lunch aide, LM socked her in the back. LM found himself at in-school suspension. Again. On his 10th birthday. I listened to the principal. I agreed that he made a bad choice. We both agreed that the girl had provoked him, but still. I said I was coming to get him, I didn’t see the sense in him sitting in the counselor’s office all afternoon.
Upon arriving at the school, I had a nice conversation with the counselor. LM was there, too. None of us feel that he has underlying issues that are surfacing at these moments. He really does seem okay with the divorce and such according to the counselor. He just has trouble in those first ten seconds after someone really gets to him of using good judgment. The moment it is over, LM admits he did wrong. He takes full responsibility for losing control and knows that he made a bad decision. All those things are encouraging signs. He doesn’t mean to be malicious, and it isn’t that he doesn’t know right from wrong. He just has a temper that erupts every now and again that he needs to control better.
The thing of it that gets me is that I NEVER see this side of him. Neither his father nor myself are “yellers” nor do we strike out or throw things in anger. At home, if LM loses his temper, he tends to sulk, to give you the “death glare” but he never yells or hits or in any way erupts like he has at school.
The counselor and I both reminded LM that he had every right to be angry when the girl took his cookies. Every right. What she did was wrong. But the reaction was wrong. He knew that. He was incredibly remorseful.
We came home and I just sat for awhile. LM went to his room on his own. I finally told him that I wasn’t done talking about the incident, I just wasn’t sure what to say right now and I needed a little time. He said he understood and apologized for “ruining my day”. His dad came to the house about an hour or so later and we talked for quite awhile about what to do now. None of the typical consequences would truly address the problem. How does taking away his PlayStation change those 10 seconds of reaction time? It was obvious that LM understood what he had done wrong and truly felt horrible about it. He hated that it happened on his birthday, too.
We decided to talk about it again in a few days, after the birthday parties are over. Honestly, I don’t think at this point we’ll do too much in terms of a punishment. I think his heart hurt plenty today. I do think I’ll talk with a child psychologist at some point before too long. While none of us think there’s something underneath the surface, maybe there is and we just don’t know. I certainly don’t want to see this problem escalate and Lord knows the issues between kids is going to get far more personal that someone taking your cookies.
After LM left with his dad to have their birthday celebration together, I talked with my dad and then my sister. Afterwards I loaded Gabe up in the car and we went off to play with the puppies. Nothing like an evening at the park to clear your mind. As I write this, I’m sitting out on my deck, surrounded by beautiful plants, finding peace in my little flower garden.
10 years ago, on the night that LM was born, when all was said and done, J asked me who I wanted to call first. I said, with eyes full of tears, “I want to call my mom.” My mom had passed away, unfortunately, three years before LM was born. Tonight, just like the night I became LM’s mother, I wish beyond all wishes that I could talk with my mom.
Comments
And, I still pick up the phone to call my Dad - three years later.
keep up the good work!