My son was suspended from school today. My seven year old boy. Officially suspended from school for one day. I completely understand why they had to suspend him and yet? I felt like throwing up when the words hit my brain.
In full disclosure, I forgot to give him his medication this morning. I very rarely, if ever, forget to give him his meds before sending him to school. On the weekends? It's happened. But during the school week I make sure he has taken them because I'm sending him to other people. People who don't know who he is at home, people that don't know us as a family. I'm sending him to his peers. His peers that will judge him and will do it in front of him without trying to whisper because they are seven. That's how seven year olds roll. I get that. He doesn't.
He doesn't get that his classmates will label him as the troublemaker. The yeller. The fighter. The one who punched, kicked and pulled at his teacher, para professional and principal today at school. He won't get that they are judging him. He won't get that they don't want to be friends with him because of this. He won't get any of that. I get it. And that's what's breaking my heart.
It pains me to no end that he's oblivious to this. In some ways, thanks be to baby Jesus that he is oblivious to it. It hurts my heart so much that the other parents will look at him as the child that acts out in class. The child that hits adults and sometimes children. The child that got the classroom cleared of other students today because of his behaviour. He was getting so out of control and had to make sure the other students were not in danger. I get that. He doesn't.
When I realized that I forgot to give him his medication, I immediately called the school. The phone system was all eff'd up so I couldn't get through to anyone. I was just getting ready to leave the house to take the medication up to the school when his special ed teacher called me on my cell. She said that he was acting up and had to be pulled from his class. He was in the special ed room and I told her he hadn't had his medication this morning and I was on my way to give it to him.
I should have known better.
When I arrived, he was in his classroom, with the principal holding him, restraining him. He was screaming at everyone (the principal, me, the two paras) calling us idiots, he hates us, we're all stupid, I'm not his mother anymore. I picked him up and plunked him in a chair and before I could get a word out, he decked me one on the shoulder and screamed that he was staying at school. The principal said that he had to go home. He couldn't stay in school today. It would be going down as a suspension on his records. He was too violent to keep at school, even if he was kept apart from his class.
I managed to get his coat and shoes on him, mainly by sitting on him and some fancy old school WWE moves (thanks Rowdy Roddy Piper and Brett Hart!!). I went to put my coat back on and he had all his shit off again. I got the coat on and told the principal to throw his shoes in the backpack. He would walk to the car, in 5 degree weather and snow without shoes. (he didn't, I carried him. Me = suckah) I was already bawling, the boy didn't care and I knew if I didn't get out of there right away, I was going to throw my child to the ground and leave him. Just get in the van and drive. Not home, not work, just drive. Into a tree perhaps?
And don't take that seriously people. I'm venting. I say irrational stupid jacked up things when I'm upset. Sometimes that's how I feel, is it normal to feel that way? I don't know. You see people say that they are frustrated parents all the time. I feel their pain. Then you have the people who patronize you, the look in their face says it can't be that bad. Unless you have an ASD child, don't judge me. You don't live in my house, you don't see the little things that have improved. You don't see the sweet child that we know and love. You don't know what the eff you're talking about when you say you should try or you should try I welcome my friends' advice and could talk to them all day about this if I thought they wouldn't want to poke their eyes out with all the whining and complaining and omigawd just sedate the boy. I'm talking about strangers who declare they know more than me. The one who birthed him, the one who shot him out of the chute, the one who would step in front of a bullet, train or anything else for this child. They're telling me they know better? I think not.
People wonder why I don't participate more at all in PTA at school. I'll tell you why and warning, it's a selfish reason: I don't want people to look at me and think, she's the mom of THAT child. It has nothing to do with being ashamed of my son, God knows I am not ashamed of him or anything he has done or will do. I simply cannot stand judgemental people and believe me, I can be judgey too. But not with other parents (unless they are being complete tools to their kids - sorry, I'll judge away my friend) especially parents with special needs children. I've had to explain Aspergers to so many people since his diagnosis and it always amazes me when people say they think these kids are being brats. They never think it could be something else. I can't blame them really. Before I had my son, I would wonder why a child was throwing a fit in the store but I was also that weirdo that wanted to go talk to the kid to get them to laugh. I've seen people stare at other ASD kids. I've heard the whispers about my own kid when people thought I couldn't hear them. My father in law was at the gas station with the boy once and he was having one of his moments (the boy not the FIL) and a customer said something about him acting like a brat (not knowing that he was with my FIL) and my FIL looked behind him and said "That's my grandson you're talking about and he has Aspergers, he's not a brat, he's a very intelligent, sweet, loving child" The customer stammered out an apology and left. This is why I don't do PTA. I don't do mom groups. I don't need the looks. I give them to myself enough at home.
So to summarize this god awful long rambling shamble of a blog post, my seven year old first grader was suspended from school for a day.
Seriously. What the eff?
In full disclosure, I forgot to give him his medication this morning. I very rarely, if ever, forget to give him his meds before sending him to school. On the weekends? It's happened. But during the school week I make sure he has taken them because I'm sending him to other people. People who don't know who he is at home, people that don't know us as a family. I'm sending him to his peers. His peers that will judge him and will do it in front of him without trying to whisper because they are seven. That's how seven year olds roll. I get that. He doesn't.
He doesn't get that his classmates will label him as the troublemaker. The yeller. The fighter. The one who punched, kicked and pulled at his teacher, para professional and principal today at school. He won't get that they are judging him. He won't get that they don't want to be friends with him because of this. He won't get any of that. I get it. And that's what's breaking my heart.
It pains me to no end that he's oblivious to this. In some ways, thanks be to baby Jesus that he is oblivious to it. It hurts my heart so much that the other parents will look at him as the child that acts out in class. The child that hits adults and sometimes children. The child that got the classroom cleared of other students today because of his behaviour. He was getting so out of control and had to make sure the other students were not in danger. I get that. He doesn't.
When I realized that I forgot to give him his medication, I immediately called the school. The phone system was all eff'd up so I couldn't get through to anyone. I was just getting ready to leave the house to take the medication up to the school when his special ed teacher called me on my cell. She said that he was acting up and had to be pulled from his class. He was in the special ed room and I told her he hadn't had his medication this morning and I was on my way to give it to him.
I should have known better.
When I arrived, he was in his classroom, with the principal holding him, restraining him. He was screaming at everyone (the principal, me, the two paras) calling us idiots, he hates us, we're all stupid, I'm not his mother anymore. I picked him up and plunked him in a chair and before I could get a word out, he decked me one on the shoulder and screamed that he was staying at school. The principal said that he had to go home. He couldn't stay in school today. It would be going down as a suspension on his records. He was too violent to keep at school, even if he was kept apart from his class.
I managed to get his coat and shoes on him, mainly by sitting on him and some fancy old school WWE moves (thanks Rowdy Roddy Piper and Brett Hart!!). I went to put my coat back on and he had all his shit off again. I got the coat on and told the principal to throw his shoes in the backpack. He would walk to the car, in 5 degree weather and snow without shoes. (he didn't, I carried him. Me = suckah) I was already bawling, the boy didn't care and I knew if I didn't get out of there right away, I was going to throw my child to the ground and leave him. Just get in the van and drive. Not home, not work, just drive. Into a tree perhaps?
And don't take that seriously people. I'm venting. I say irrational stupid jacked up things when I'm upset. Sometimes that's how I feel, is it normal to feel that way? I don't know. You see people say that they are frustrated parents all the time. I feel their pain. Then you have the people who patronize you, the look in their face says it can't be that bad. Unless you have an ASD child, don't judge me. You don't live in my house, you don't see the little things that have improved. You don't see the sweet child that we know and love. You don't know what the eff you're talking about when you say you should try
People wonder why I don't participate more at all in PTA at school. I'll tell you why and warning, it's a selfish reason: I don't want people to look at me and think, she's the mom of THAT child. It has nothing to do with being ashamed of my son, God knows I am not ashamed of him or anything he has done or will do. I simply cannot stand judgemental people and believe me, I can be judgey too. But not with other parents (unless they are being complete tools to their kids - sorry, I'll judge away my friend) especially parents with special needs children. I've had to explain Aspergers to so many people since his diagnosis and it always amazes me when people say they think these kids are being brats. They never think it could be something else. I can't blame them really. Before I had my son, I would wonder why a child was throwing a fit in the store but I was also that weirdo that wanted to go talk to the kid to get them to laugh. I've seen people stare at other ASD kids. I've heard the whispers about my own kid when people thought I couldn't hear them. My father in law was at the gas station with the boy once and he was having one of his moments (the boy not the FIL) and a customer said something about him acting like a brat (not knowing that he was with my FIL) and my FIL looked behind him and said "That's my grandson you're talking about and he has Aspergers, he's not a brat, he's a very intelligent, sweet, loving child" The customer stammered out an apology and left. This is why I don't do PTA. I don't do mom groups. I don't need the looks. I give them to myself enough at home.
So to summarize this god awful long rambling shamble of a blog post, my seven year old first grader was suspended from school for a day.
Seriously. What the eff?
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