School

I finally decided enough was enough and I was pulling Mark out of his English class where he isn't learning anything.

I mulled over options and called the school to get an appointment with the counselor to discuss.  He called me back but wouldn't let me have an appointment.  I even said, "So you won't make an appointment with me?"

He said with all sorts of false friendliness, "I really don't think we need to."

I said fine, he could send home the class schedule for me to pick another class.

But I didn't really want to pick another class.  I wanted to talk to the counselor about options.  And what I really wanted was for Mark to not have a class that period so he could be home and we could work together on his online English course.

Mark was skeptical.  "I don't know if they'll let you do that."

I am my mother's daughter.  I said, "Oh, they will."  Pretty much the only time I'm 100% confident is when I'm going into battle for one of my children.  Because I will die on that hill.  (Whatever hill it is.)

I went to the school yesterday with a book in my purse.  I was prepared for a stakeout in the counselor's office until he would meet with me.  I tried to think of Adam (who insists that to get results I will get further if I'm not too concerned about being right) and my dad (who taught me you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar) but in the end I was a little vinegar-y after all.

I sat in the counselor office waiting room for 45 minutes waiting for my chance.  There were a fleet of students in line ahead of me with green slips because they needed to change classes for next semester.  I was very grateful I'd brought my book.

At one point an English teacher (happily not one Mark has ever had) marched in and scolded one of the boys waiting to see the counselor.  "You've missed all this class time!" she shrieked.

"I'm waiting to see the counselor," he said meekly.

The teacher spoke to him with astonishing disdain and disgust.  She said, "Get back to class, now!  You've wasted all this time."  She stormed away.

He sunk lower in his chair, but to his credit, he stayed where he was.  He was, after all, next in line.  I wanted to put my arm around the morose boy with greasy hair and bring him home and feed him cookies.  After he met with the counselor the receptionist in the counselor office quietly apologized to the boy and told him he had done nothing wrong.

I felt ashamed of both the receptionist and myself that we'd let someone bully a child and we'd done nothing to defend him.  I was thinking with regret that I always seem to miss these chances.  Then I was startled to realize that the last time I felt regret about not speaking up, it had involved the same English teacher.  She and I had been selling tickets for The Importance of Being Earnest and she'd said something very racist and I'd been stunned into silence, only wishing later I'd said something.

What is it about that woman?  Maybe I should look up her email address and send her all the belated things I want to tell her.

I finally got my day in the sun and was able to see the counselor.  He looked around the waiting area with a big smile, like he was proud of his popularity.  "Everyone wants to see me today," he said.  "Yesterday no one did."

So that's when I got a little salty.  I told him that I was the one who had called him yesterday.  I said, "Since you refused to make an appointment with me, I decided to come and just wait until you'd see me."  Then he was suddenly Mr. Helpful.  He tripped over himself trying to be accommodating.

To my credit, I didn't roll my eyes.  I told him what I wanted.   I asked him about online courses.  I told him I was considering using BYU independent study and he said that was a great option.  He said it was a very simple process to get Mark out of a class period and I just needed to talk to the registrar.

The registrar sent me to the district office (which is in American Fork so not quite the promised simple process).

The people at district office cautioned me to use an accredited English course.  I said, "I'm considering using BYU independent study."  They told me that was not on the district's approved list.

It was 20 degrees outside and the counselor who told me BYU was "a good option" had been wearing sandals.  I should have known not to trust him.

All's well that ends well and I came home with my notarized paper giving Mark permission to stay home for A1 next semester (they have an AB schedule and I'm going to have to start paying attention which day it is!).

Our kids have had some really stellar teachers.  They've had teachers that inspire and motivate them and encourage and love them.

I wish we could box all the rotten teachers up and send them away somewhere.  Somewhere with no cookies.