Looking back, there have been just two times where I have lost my mind.
The first time was when we just put our house on the market and the adjoining neighbor decided to empty the contents of her storage unit onto her front lawn. As I drove into our small cul-de-sac & witnessed a growing junkyard being created before my very eyes, I exploded. Our For Sale sign was almost invisible because of the overflowing plastic that attempted to protect her things from the outside elements, in the rainy season. I truly lost my mind as I stood in the street screaming at my neighbor and shouting at onlookers to back off or did they…wait for it….”want a piece of me?!” Yes. I actually said that. I even used hand motions.
I was much younger, but way too old to say that, especially in public. At that point, we had no choice but to move.
The second time, was today.
If you read my last post about the Dicktator, you know that things came to a boiling point last night when we received an extremely clueless and condescending email from my son’s principal. Clueless, because he didn’t seem to understand that his email was filled with arrogant demands that were against the law and this very arrogance, could cost his district a big fat law suit. While I was filled with frustration, more like rage, I contacted the Special Education Director, who had also not returned my emails, and asked if she agreed with said Dicktator. I closed my message by saying that if that was the case, I had no choice but to contact any, and all, agencies that govern over civil rights and education within our state.
Shockingly, I received an email first thing this morning. She wanted to talk.
At 3:10 the Director called me and by 3:20, I was out of my mind! It started with calm yes or no responses but then I began to cry. My sobbing morphed into complete anger and that is where any filter that might have been used by a rational person was burnt up by my heated words.
For the next twenty minutes, I shared every thought that had crossed my mind about that principal and his actions. I paced the floor, shaking my fist as I cried and shouted about their complete failure this year. I listed example after example of ways that they had ignored his rights and had ignored our previously calm, perfectly appropriate requests for help and information.
I’m not proud of it, but at one point, I actually said that I was “going to bring it if they wanted a fight.” At that moment, I was transported back to my neighborhood fight of yesteryear. Uh oh.
Her responses were brief and usually started with “Yes, I hear your frustration” or “Yes, I understand.” I told her that there was NO possible way that she really understood how we felt, how we worried, how we lived day by day at this point.
I explained that we would be homeschooling in the afternoon and that we had every legal right to do so.
I explained that I was horrified to be part of the same profession as those “educators” that made this year a living hell.
Although I am not happy with my delivery, I am proud that I said what needed to be said; however, I really hope this was the last time that I actually have to say “bring it” to another adult!