Last Thursday was a new beginning for Max and me. He came home extremely upset and had no desire to do anything. I read Max’s communication log from the teacher and found that he had cried profusely at school in the cafeteria. I asked him about thirty minutes after he came home, and had some relax time what had happened at school to make him cry. It’s not common for Max to cry at school.
I recorded on video what he said, but I promised him I would not post it on his blog. I do want to share this horrible experience with you. Those of you who have a special needs child or typical child I’m sure have dealt with this same issue. I’m sure you understand how difficult this is to even write about.
Max attends a fourth grade typical class once a day for about an hour for math. He is doing well with the math and enjoys learning new concepts, but after Thursday’s class he has been upset. This is what he told me that happened. "Iwent over to some girls and asked them to help me with the long division. The girls told me to go ask the boys. So I went over to the table with four boys and they told me no. They talked in a different language and I asked them what type of language they were talking. They said we are talking Italian."
That is about all Max could relate to me of what happened. If Max was a typical eleven year old he would have been able to tell me their names, what they all said and what really happened. He did tell me that the teacher left the room or went to the door, so I guess there was no supervision.
My heart is heavy. Why must Max be subjected to intimidation and rejection? I knew sometime in the near future he would have to deal with being bullied, but I just wish it didn’t happen for another couple of years.
Friday he told me he had the diarrhea and can’t go to school. He begged me to stay home and told me he didn’t want to go to that math class.
When our eyes connected he had tears with a sweet voice that pierce my heart. “Mom I’m not like them, they are rude and mean. Why are they mean to me?”
I tried to explain to him that there will be people that aren’t nice to him. I told him I had it happened to me when I was little and even now I have had people be mean to me. He looked at me with a puzzled face as if what I was saying was not logical.
Tomorrow the teacher is going to send an aide with Max. I am worried that these kids in this typical class have labeled him, with a label we all don’t want our kids to have.
Max doesn’t have any real friends. What are real friend anyway? What are friends for? Why do we have them? I have asked myself often what is a real friend. Then when I asked Max who he wants to come to his birthday party he said with a smile. “My friends.”
I got anxious to hear him name off friends from school or church. “What are your friends names?”
He didn’t have to think he just spilled out names faster than I could intake them. “My brothers, sisters, my aunts and uncles and that is it.”
My chest began to burn and my eyes filled with tears at the thought his friends are his aunts and uncle and his brothers and sisters.
I wish I could put a shield of armor on Max to protect him from getting hurt, but I know that isn’t possible. Hard part about being a parents is watching your child be left out of the circle and not feeling like they fit in.
My daughter took these pictures of Max while on a walk around our neighborhood. I love these pictures.
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