Goin' In (part 2)

author's note:  Still here.  Still without a computer.  Hopefully I'll be back, fully on-line, early in the week.  Don't give up on me.

"Hi."  I greet the woman at the front desk hesitantly.  "I'm Griffin's mom."  She gives no sign of recognition at his name; I take that as a good sign.  "His teacher called, and apparently he has had some behavior issues today?"  Still nothing.  Phew.  "I called back but couldn't get through, so I thought I had better come down."

"Who's his teacher?"

"Mrs. Quayle."

"Okay..." she says, searching her schedule list.  "She is at lunch.  Would you like me to call her?"

Poor Mrs. Quayle can't even get a lunch break.  "Yes.  I suppose I had better visit with her."

When I see her coming down the hall, I rise, sheepishly shrugging my shoulders and rolling my eyes.  She laughs, and this puts me at ease a little.  "I'm so sorry to interrupt your lunch!"

"Oh, that's no problem.  He's had a tough morning."  Rightly said, it should have been, I have had a tough morning because of him, but Mrs. Quayle is too nice to speak the actual truth.  "Does Griffin know a boy named Eli Jones?" (Some names have been changed to protect the innocent.) 

"Ummm..." I am racking my brain for that name.

"Because that is the little boy he bit at recess.  At first he said he didn't bite him, although three other boys said he did.  When I asked him why three other boys would say that he bit Eli, Griffin said, 'I don't know, but I didn't.'  Finally, though, he gave the reason that he had gone over to Eli's house and Eli had pushed him off a shelf and he had gotten hurt."

What?  I don't even know a...wait a second..."Last Christmas I went over to Eli's mother's house so my mom could buy a necklace that she had made...We were there for like 15 minutes, but I think Griffin did get hurt while they were playing...Nine months ago?  I can't believe Griffin would hold a grudge for nine months, but that is the only time he has been to Eli's house..."

"Well, whatever the circumstances, Griffin felt that gave him reason to bite him.  The other issue was that during carpet time..." 

She continues to tell me about another instance of Griffin neither listening or obeying.  That is old hat around here, but the biting?  That one blows my mind.  I am at a loss, which is what I tell her.  "Mrs. Quayle, I really don't know what to do with this kid right now."  Even as I say it I'm pretty sure that is not an impressive thing to say, but my mind is whirling, trying to come up with some sort of meaningful punishment.  Something that will make a difference.  But what is it?  What? 

"I just think he needs to realize that coming to school is a privilege," I continue.  "...Maybe I need to take him out of school for a couple of days...make him want to come back...maybe..."My mind is still spinning, but there might be something here...possibly.  "I don't know.  I just think he needs something that's going to rock his world a little bit."  I'm hoping here that she will chime in with an opinion; clearly I am a mother grasping at straws.  She doesn't.

So I continue, "What do you think?"

"Well..." she hesitates, and I think maybe I'm crazy.  "In my position I can't tell you to take your child out of school--"

"--No, of course not."  It's official.  I'm crazy.

"--but if you think it will help, it may be worth a try.  Why not?"

And that's where I fell in love with Mrs. Quayle a little bit.  Right there.  Because I don't know what will help.  I really don't, but I'm willing to try anything.  And something in my mother's heart tells me this kid needs a wake up call, something big, something bold, and maybe a little crazy, and if she can get behind crazy, then she's on my team.

"Do you want to get him now?  They are just coming in from recess."

"Sure.  Yeah."  I try to sound more confident than I feel.  "If you could send home his work from the rest of today and for tomorrow, I will see that he gets it done.  I just want to make sure I'm not making things harder for you..."  And then I realize Griffin will be out of her class for a day and a half.  I laugh, "Actually things will probably be a little easier, huh?"

She laughs with me, but doesn't totally disagree.  I respect that.

When Griffin sees me standing next to his teacher as he comes in from recess, his face lights up.  He smiles and waves excitedly.  Inside I shake my head at his complete oblivion.  Outside I narrow my eyes and beckon him with my pointer finger.  His smile quickly fades and he walks over reluctantly.

"I am not happy about being here right now," I seethe quietly.  "Do you know why I am here?"

"Because I got in trouble."

"That's right.  And now you have to come home with me.  Let's go get your things."

While the rest of the class finishes their bathroom break, Mrs. Quayle accompanies us to her room.  While she gathers his papers, I lecture.  "Now, you look at Mrs. Quayle.  She is your teacher.  She is not your babysitter, or your mother.  She is your teacher, and she should not have to spend all of her time dealing with your misbehaviour when she has 25 other students in the room to look after.  You need to say you are sorry for not listening and obeying."

"Sorry," he mumbles humbly. 

Griffin," I continue, "school is a privilege.  There are lots of kids that do not get to go to school.  You should feel very lucky to be here, but if you can not behave, then you can not be here.  Now, Mrs. Quayle loves you, and she wants you to be able to come back, but if I can not trust you to behave correctly when you are out of my sight, then I will not allow you to come back to school.  You will just have to stay at home and do all your work with me where I can keep my eyes on you.  We are going to see how it goes the next couple of days, and you are going to have to prove to me that you want to come back.  Do you understand?"

He nodded yes.

"Here are your papers from today, and the rest of the work we will be doing this afternoon," Mrs. Quayle says, and then in a move that is akin to jumping up behind me and spurring the crazy horse on, she takes his little face in her hands, looks in his eyes, and with the severest gravity says, "I hope you can come back, Griffin."

Me?  More in love with Mrs. Quayle than ever!  She's on board and, though we don't know exactly where we're going, we're riding this train all the way to the station--or at least the the front office, 'cause that's where I run into a little trouble.

(to be continued...)