Goin' In (part 3)

"Hi again," I say to the woman at the front desk.  "I'm checking him out for the day."

"Ohhh," she responds empathetically.  "Is he feeling sick?"

"No."  I feel sheepish having to explain my crazy plan.  I try to see if I can get through it quickly.  I'd like to avoid a lot of questions.  "He has had some behavior issues, so he's going to be home with me for the next couple of days."

Her eyes fly wide open.  "Oh!  Would you like to speak to someone?  The Vice-Principal, perhaps?"

"No...no...we're fine..."

"Well, I'm sure he would like to know what is going on.  I'd be happy to get him."  This is said with such crazy energy that it seems she is trying to preempt an angry, raging parent.

"Griffin, could you go over and sit over there for a minute," I direct.  When he is out of earshot I say, "Look, I'm not unhappy at all.  Mrs. Quayle is doing an amazing job with him.  I'm just trying to teach him a lesson about the behavior I expect at school."

With this her eyes narrow a bit and she looks at me quizzically.  "Are you sure you don't want to speak to anyone?  I'm sure the Vice-Principal would like to know what is going on."

And I wonder if she means with me or with Griffin?  I'm leaning more toward me.  She still hasn't handed me the check out sheet yet. "Well, I don't feel like I need to talk to him, but, I mean, it would be fine, I guess."

"Um, he's out of the office right now...but--"

"Oh, that's fine.  Like I said--"

"But I could get the school psychologist.  She would be happy to talk to you--"

"O...kay...sure, that's fine."  It's obvious I'm not getting out of this school without discussing this to someone.

She walks me over to Mrs. Manzatti's* office where I fill her in on Griffin's past behavior and my crack-pot scheme.

We are sitting at her child-size table over which she leans and asks, "Griffin?  What's going on?  Do you not like your classroom?  Are you having problems with Mrs. Quayle?" Mrs. Manzatti spoke in a high voice only reserved for talking with problem children.

"No," Griffin mumbles, his eyes downcast.  "I like Mrs. Quayle."

"Well, it sounds like you are having a hard time, buddy.  What's going on?"

In the silence that follows, I wonder if you had to develop a voice like that to become a school psychologist.

Finally Griffin speaks and begins to cry.  "I just don't think I'm ready."

"Ohhh..." Mrs. Manzetti says nodding her head understandingly.  Then turning to me, she says in her authoritative adult voice, "He may be feeling overwhelmed."  Then, switching back to her child psychologist voice, she says to Griffin, "You know, Griffin, you are going to learn all kinds of things in first grade.  You're going to learn how to read, your going to learn math...you'll learn all of that.  It's okay if you don't know it right now."  Then back to normal voice and to me, she says, "First grade is very different than kindergarten.  There are a lot more expectations academically, a lot more seat work...And Mrs. Quayle--she is a very good teacher--but she does expect a lot of the students."

Now it was my turn to nod understandingly.  I'm not sure we're all on the same page here, Griffin included.  "The thing is," I say, "he's doing all of those things already.  He can already read and he is trying to solve his sister's math problems, so...I'm not sure what he means when he says he not ready."

Then I say in my mommy voice--which isn't all that much different than my adult authoritative voice...well, maybe their exactly the same-- "Griffin.  I don't know what you mean when you say you are not ready, son.  You are doing really well with your school work.  What don't you feel ready for?"

"I don't feel ready to follow the rules," he blurts, wiping his eyes.

Mrs. Manzetti is back to nodding understandingly;  I, however, don't feel as if we've discovered any new territory.  That much was clear to me three weeks ago, but feeling ready or not, what are the options here?  The rules aren't going to change; I know that much, which is what I'm waiting for her to tell him when she says to me, "I just don't want him to get the idea that he can misbehave and then he gets to go home."

And I wonder how many stupid parents this woman has to deal with.  "Oh, no.  This isn't a 'get to go home' situation," I clarify.  "No.  This is a 'have to go home' situation.  He is not going to have any fun at home."  And this part is mostly for Griffin's benefit.  "No.  If he's going home, then he is going to not only do all of his schoolwork and then some, he is going to have to do all the work that needs to be done during the day as well.  If he doesn't want to do his job here, then he can work at home.  This is not going to be pleasant, and then we will see how good school looks."

"Oh.  Oh, I see."  I'm not sure Mrs. Manzetti is on board the crazy train, but she seems more interested in watching it pull out of the station.

(to be continued...seriously, how long is this story anyway?)