Now, I'm not saying scrapbooking has magical powers or anything, but this past week I haven't been able to sit and work on pages at all and let's just say I've been hit hard with that awful thing called reality. Nothing particularly bad happened; it's just that I've been faced quite glaringly with our circumstances and I don't like them. It's hard to remain positive and remember your blessings, and I do have many, when life is right there smacking you in the face.
The week began with me chaperoning Sal's field trip to the zoo. It was a beautiful day. I had four great kids in my group who I immensely enjoyed spending the day with. They were vibrant and inquisitive and they asked questioned and listened to everything that was said. But through all of this, I was faced with the painful disorder that is called selective mutism. Sal has made leaps and bounds in the past few months with his speaking, but here he was in a small group with his mom and barely spoke ten words the entire day. You see, we had a little girl in our group who is pretty much the polar opposite of Sal. She's loud and peppy and outgoing and touchy-feely and at one point I thought Sal was going to implode from all that is her. He has a rating system through the SMart Center to chart his level of anxiety, 0 being no anxiety and 3 being very, very hard. He gave spending the day with this girl a 10. And she doesn't deserve a 10. She's a sweet, caring little girl. But, I was struck by how out of place he is at this school. Aside from his interaction with her, I was able to observe him for about an hour in the classroom while waiting for the buses to arrive. There are so many distractions this teacher must deal with on a daily basis. Sal has one of the nicer groups of kids in his school, and his class in particular this year, is quite nice, but there are still behaviors that I'm sure simply set him on edge and are out of the teacher's power to stop and consume a lot of her energy to keep in check. She's been amazing at helping him, but I can imagine that the help is limited. Sal isn't even aware of it, but I see a little boy with "friends" that aren't truly friends, but rather kids that are nice and he likes.
On top of that, Eli is continuing to struggle behaviorally in school. He has "good" days and "bad" days and had another accident again this week. I'm getting the little sheet of paper with some stars on it here and there, but no real feedback as to his actions. His group of kids is more questionable. They have a much darker side, some just because they are more imaginative, but others because of their lack of preservation of innocence in their upbringing. My husband is concerned the child has ADHD, but I'm convinced his lack of attention is the lack of the teacher's ability to engage him. Plus, how can she compete with the stories the other kids are telling?
It's a terrible feeling to have that sense of not belonging. We have all experienced it, and it's not a new feeling for me in any way. I remember sitting for years at dance class, friendless and awkward, and clearly not "a dancer". I didn't belong, but stayed because despite all of that, I enjoyed the dancing. But it was a temporary feeling. For a few hours each week I sat awkward and alone, but the rest of life seemed to fall into place. I had belonging in school activities and a strong little group of friends. In this little town, I'm constantly on the outskirts of community, as is my entire family. I can see relationships being formed and a strong sense of community, but not one that I am truly apart of. And it's clearly affecting my boys, Sal especially. Everyone is busy and play dates are difficult to arrange, but I see the other boys striking up friendships that will last a long time. I see families hanging out together and kids having sleepovers and after school video game fests. And no matter how many times I open my doors to them, they never open their doors to me. Now at the age of eight, there are no such things as "play dates". They are too contrived. The kids go to friends' houses to hang out, but for us, we're still arranging and planning and scheduling.
[A little side story here. I had a couple brothers over this summer to play with Sal and Eli. I really like their mom. She's a lot like me and our younger boys are like kindred spirits. Anyway, she invited us to their block party. Here was an opportunity for us to be social, and I completely forgot about it. She said she'd send me an Evite, but I'm pretty sure she forgot. My mother raked me over the coals for forgetting, admonishing me for all my "whining and complaining" about not having any friends and then forgetting to go. Feeling guilty and a social reject, I get on Facebook and see that at said block party there was a drunk guy there who has some sexual predator issues and was following the kids around and making lewd comments to them. This mom I like told him he needed to leave so he came back with a gun (a pellet gun that he made over to look like a real gun, but still) and pointed it at her head. Maybe there was a reason I forgot this party. Maybe I was never meant to be there in the first place. I know after I told my mom that she got off me for not going.]
But maybe that's just it. Maybe I was never meant to be apart of this community in the first place. Maybe I'm meant to be in my home and with my neighbors, but not really apart of this little town. Maybe there is something different for us. And that brings me to our evening last night. I signed up to go to an open house at a Friends school just ten minutes up the road from us. A Friends school is based on the Quaker religion. They cherish peace and simplicity.
Here is also a little bit of reality hitting me as I make arrangements to visit a school with a $11,000 per year tuition: we hit such a financial crisis this fall what with the dog's vet bills, accruing credit debt, and a depletion of both our paychecks that we have tapped into our boys' savings what little there was. I swore I never would touch their savings, but at one point we needed to pay our mortgage and at another point, it seemed ridiculous to be spending thousands of dollars in interest on our credit cards when there was this money sitting there that could potentially save us. We made the decision to use their savings to help us get out of credit debt. I'm hoping that in a few years time, it will have been the right decision and have the outcome of helping our overall circumstances and enrich their experiences. But still....
So we visit this school. When I made the appointment, my husband said he wouldn't be going and would stay home with all the boys. He said there didn't seem to be any point in visiting a school that wasn't an option for us. But, I needed to see it. I'm sick of feeling resigned, settling for mediocre. Both older boys were very excited to attend, and surprisingly as 5 o'clock rolled around there was my husband ready to go without a single snarky comment to be made.
Sending my children had never been even a consideration when we became parents. I'm sorry to say it, but I stereotyped private school kids and families: rich snobs. How could I not being a strong proponent of a public school education when I was a public school educator? But, here we were last night at this school and guess what? There were a lot of rich people there. Our tour guide was a parent of two boys at the school. She was Indian and didn't work, so I can only assume what her husband did for a living. I mean, let's just jump right into the stereotypes, right? When you expect to find something, you often do, but as we toured from classroom to classroom, it suddenly struck me that what I initially read as her being fake and trying to make a sale, was complete sincerity of her love for this school. It wasn't until we went into the fourth grade classroom (potentially Sal's classroom next year) and met the fourth grade teacher that suddenly I, too, found myself falling in love with this place. The teacher who was in her late 60's, maybe early 70's, was animatedly talking about her freedom to explore the world around them. No burn out. Just a love, a genuine love, for this school. She had been a student there, a teacher there, and a parent there. And as my two little ones started getting antsy and running around, she put her hand on my arm and said to just let them be and explore, there was nothing they could hurt in her room. And I believed her!
And here's the truly miraculous part! By the end of the night, Sal was freely talking in front of our tour guide and our two student guides. He willingly said good-bye and thank you upon leaving and expressed how much he liked the school. Turns out he was listening the entire time and easily picked up on the small class sizes and all the extras the school had to offer. Not only did I see Sal reach a comfort level in less than two hours with complete strangers, but my Mr. Negative husband said how calm the school made him feel. He said that it was so warm and inviting and everyone there seemed to have open arms.
Could this be the answer? I realize no place is perfect, but... How could this be the answer when we have no way to pay for tuition? Did I make a mistake in visiting? In seeing something I have no hopes of having? Is there a hope? Do I have the energy to make it happen? Will the fates be in my favor of rewarding my energy when it seems so much of my already spent energy has been in vain?
And that's where I am this Friday morning, faced with these realities and not really sure about how to handle them. I'm trying to figure out a way to blend my fantasy life (which is really just a slightly more comfortable life than I have right now, not with private jets or mansions, but the ability to send my kids to a school that could allow them to blossom and maybe a new pair of boots every now and then) and my real life of living paycheck to paycheck and coming up short every now and then on the mortgage or groceries.
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