This week I was already feeling the weight of Oscar’s speech disability as he spent much of dinner trying to tell us something about his swimming carnival on Tuesday which none of us could understand/guess. At one stage he just got so resignedly frustrated he just put his forehead in the cup of his hands thereby breaking.my.heart.
He hadn’t gone to school with his communication book as they were going to be at the swimming carnival all day so there was no note in there from his aide to help us get to the bottom of it.
The next afternoon – after I’ve put a note in his book asking about it and how it all went – we get the note home saying that the carnival had been cancelled because the local
idiots rort brigade council had emptied the pool for cleaning (it’s an ocean rock pool) even though it had been booked for the carnival since last year.
Then yesterday he got into the car and burst into tears.
You know that type of tears.
Where you’re trying to be brave and not to cry but can’t help it?
And I asked him if he was OK and what was wrong and because he.had.no.words, he got his communication book out for me to read – and there was another note in there too which he thought might have something in it to tell me what had happened.
But the only note was in response to mine and was something about nothing and the note was about his text books.
When I told him that neither of them said anything he just said ‘oh well’ sort of shrugged his shoulders and now, looking back, we can say that he just plain sucked it up.
We then had the three hundred afternoons in one which in hindsight was probably a good thing.
We got home at 7.45pm and as Oscar looked like he was either going to vomit or fall asleep at the table I packed him straight off to bed.
So then today the school principal called me and left a message on my mobile because I can
never be bothered hear it to answer it.
Let’s say that together.
You know it’s bad don’t you.
Some of you can start crying now
because I still am.
It turns out that three of Oscar’s classmates,
three boys who have known and been in Oscar’s class for the last two years
bullied him in the playground at lunchtime on Thursday.
Let’s call them Bad Apple, Sheep 1 and Sheep 2 shall we?
Bad Apple is – indeed – the bad apple (or in this case I’m thinking egg) of the year with parents to match. His parents and the principal have a difficult relationship inasmuch that if the principal needs to phone or see them he has two assistant principals in the room with him as witnesses and tends to read from a prepared statement.
Sheep 1 is I think borderline Aspergers and has always given Oscar a wide berth as he has – from my limited experience – everyone else. His mother is an ANGEL and is essentially THE ENTIRE P&C.
Sheep 2 has a stutter and waits at the gate every afternoon with his little sister to be picked up and is someone I would have classified as one of Oscar’s friends.
It appears that Bad Apple and Sheep 2 dared and taunted and teased Sheep 1 to ‘hump’ a tree.
You know where this is going don’t you.
They then dared, teased and taunted him to do the same to Oscar.
Which he did.
The upshot of this is that Sheep 1 and 2 parents have been absolutely horrified and are as upset as I am.
I don’t know about Bad Apple’s parents as the Principal has only managed to leave a message for them. A message they have not got back to him about and I would hazard a guess never will.
I suspect because it was sexual in nature other authorities have had to be called as when I was talking to the principal he said an organisation he had to speak to about the incident was on the other line and he had to go.
Either that or it was an excellent excuse to get the teary mother of the kid with the mongy chromosome off the friggin’ phone already.
I’ve having issues with several parts of this whole story:
1. WHY THE FUCK WAS I ONLY TOLD ABOUT IT A WHOLE DAY LATER? Even if they had to get to the bottom of what had actually happened, the least they could have done was put a note in his comms book telling me there had been an incident and that Oscar might be a bit upset.
2. The Principal has to follow various protocols/policies and processes (shut up, I know they’re all the same thing but I’m angry and upset) when these incidents occur. None, repeat NONE, of this have any space or allowance when one of the kids involved CAN’T TALK.
3. So when you’re telling me that Child A,B, and C did various things and that they are ‘in his class’ (which is a composite so it could have been some ‘new’ kids with no exposure to Oscar) and I’m in the process of writing invitations to Oscar’s birthday party, you’re going to have to BEND.THE.RULES and tell me who the little SHITS are because I am not inviting the SHMUCKS into my home and thereby sending all manner of horrible you-are-worthless messages to my son. (He agreed in this instance he’d have to tell me their names and did so, which in some ways made it worse.)
3. It’s around now I want to ring Bad Apple’s parents and ask them WHAT THE HELL is going on in their home that their child would think it a SPORT to not only pick on the kid with special needs but to do something in a SEXUAL manner.
4. Which leads me to the second call I WANT TO MAKE TO DOCS
Oscar got in the car this afternoon and I broke all the rules and cried as I told him Mr D had called me and told me what happened yesterday.
Oh DUDES, that bottom lip on my boy.
How low it hung and quivered.
I hugged him over and over and reassured him he’d done nothing wrong and they were very naughty and MEAN.
And that WE WERE NOT INVITING THEM TO HIS PARTY.