I sat in my office chair, logging off from a long day of work. How am I going to get everything done. The text from the therapists office staring at me. "I need your daughters email to get her enrolled." I'm sorry, what? She's fourteen. "I know but we need to send everything to her. Of course, we will send the waiver so you can pay the bill." Offff course you will. I made a mental note to see if she even had one.
As I sat gathering myself, Liz's voice rang out, "Winston puked on the couch." I put my head in my hands and took a big deep breath. "Can you run upstairs and get paper towels, also a wet paper towel with the blue soap and a bag." I stood as she ran up the stairs and noticed the dog was still actively puking on the couch. I mumbled to myself and ran in. "Down, Winston. Come on sweetie. Out here to the wood." I wanted to cry.
My long "to do" list entailed, well now, cleaning up dog vomit, feeding the dogs, (once Winston stomach settled), help Liz with her homework, text the therapist the email address, dinner.... I had just had a hellish day at work and the list loomed in front of me. Again, I wanted to cry. I had been berated once again at work. You know, in a passive way so that if I bring it up to anyone, I will receive the, "It really wasn't that bad." Tell that to the crumpled worker holding in rage.
I logged into Schoology, a program that keeps track of Liz's school grades, assignments etc. I noticed that the math test that she had today was listed. I clicked on the link to see if it had been graded. No grade showed but there was the link to the test. I clicked on it to see what she was tested on. I noticed that it was in fact graded. The big numbers stared me in the face, 15/40. Again, the tears threatened to fall. What the hell!!! I looked through the test. There were questions that she hadn't even answered. I started to get mad, really mad. All of the annoyances that happened throughout the day had piled up. Like a pile of fruit, this last apple just was too much weight. The entire pile crumbled and my rage bubbled over.
How can a teacher give a test, see that a student didn't even get half of the problems correct and do NOTHING?!!? I went to school for teaching. A test is to gather if the students retained the information. Then I thought, if a student has an IEP with a focus on Math, why in the actual fuck are they putting her in Algebra.
As I walked upstairs, puke bag in hand, I became increasingly more angry. I decided, rather than take it out on my children, I would run to the store for my medicine. Needless to say, the break did nothing to quell my anger. I retreated to my room for some quiet time. There, I paused and sat in the quiet. Breathing deeply. Eventually the dogs came to join me. These are the nights when it all just feels too much.
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