"Mom, why?"

I had "the talk" with Jack this morning. It wasn't the birds and bees talk. It wasn't about strangers. It wasn't even about saying no to drugs. Now that I think about it, this talk may not even occur in all households. I guess mine is a unique perspective, and my kids are gonna want to know "stuff". So today's topic? "Why are teachers sometimes kinda mean?" A sad Jack wanted to know.

"What do you mean, Jack? Tell me more. What happened?"

"Wellll, I was trying to tell Mrs. Rose about the decorations on great grandpa's casket at his funeral. She acted like she didn't believe me. She just looked at me like I was fibbing."

"I don't understand, Jack. How do you know she thought you were lying?"

"I raised my hand, Mom. And she said, 'What is it, Jack? What do you want to say so badly that you want to interrupt our lesson and talk to me about?'.... I told her that I still have a decoration from grandpa's funeral and that I could bring it to school so that she could see it. Then she just looked at me... like she didn't believe me..."

Suddenly this picture is clearer. I feel a strange sensation. My heart hurts for my child... And his teacher.

Jack's getting older, and it's starting to occur to him that kids sometimes... annoy adults. (Gasp!) And although he's not yet old enough to understand exactly how this is sometimes something he can control and prevent, he is old enough to understand that when this happens, it's occasionally hurtful and confusing.

Jack sat there and scratched his head. I felt so badly for him at that moment. He is so sweet and innocent. And although I was the kind of kid who might've presented this story with some dramatic slant to it -- really emphasizing how much of a victim I was when I recounted it to my mother, I know that Jack is not that way (yet). He's honestly confused and clueless as to what he's done wrong. And for that, I wanted to scoop him up. Overworked and tired adults can be really thoughtless sometimes.

I know and understand what's happened in Jack's classroom. Mrs. Rose is going through her own "February". She's killing herself everyday to teach kids - kids that very often do everything they possibly can to be anything BUT receptive to the learning. Maybe she was teaching reading when the kids weren't particularly focused on the Abe Lincoln story-of-the-moment. Maybe they wanted to push each other, or make noises, or draw, or kick each other under the table, or think about lunchtime, or wave at someone in the hallway, or look out the window, or even tell stories about their uncle's neighbor's chihuahua. Maybe she was already at maximum frustration. And maybe somewhere in the midst of that incredibly exhausting and fragile tug-of-war for attention, Jack raised his hand and ended up feeling like he did. Oh, the power we have as teachers...

I hope the both of them have a better day today.

(P.S. I said "No" when he asked if he could take the funeral decoration to school with him today so that she would believe him.)

Instead, I'll let him show you. Sigh... Poor little guy.