Today is Chandler's last day of third grade. He was up at 4:00 a.m this morning. He's plugging his ears and jumping and smiling. I tell him we are waiting for the bus, and this is the last day of school. The bus comes and he runs through the warm, misty morning to get to it. I wonder if he will be confused tomorrow. I watch the bus driver wave to me, and the door closes on another year.
I sit down in the kitchen chair, and look down at the table. There is a school planner on the table. I pulled it out of his backpack last night. There's six goldfish on the front, and the middle one has a word bubble saying "Stop bullying me." Yesterday was the first time I ever laid eyes on this planner.
Before I finish this post, realize that this year was tough. His program at school fractured by staff turnover, miscommunication, and many, many meetings. We, as parents, have been assured things are on the upswing, everyone is looking toward a new start. But I still feel the sting of a year lost.
The first entry is October 15th, and it simply says he did well. October 16th. "He had one outburst in the gym, but it was as we were leaving to go to music therapy. It may have been the transition to music that upset him." October 29. "The bus came late and we got to class late, maybe upset him?" In November there are spelling lists. Crayon. Feather. House. Many reports of him being agitated and having to leave the room. Lots of Mondays. There are no entries in February. I find myself wondering who wrote this....a para, his teachers....One full week in April he was agitated. One day in May they worked on book reports. I have no idea which book. My eyes fill with tears, and I can't read anymore. All of these days this information could have been useful, I could have helped....I know I should be glad its a new start next year. I should be glad for all the progress and the collaborative effort that parents have been informed will be happening, but I quietly shut the planner and wonder....
