Renewed Faith

* Bubba got a hair cut and received his much wanted Mohawk!



Almost immediately after Bubba was diagnosed, I began having fears of public school. I saw him constantly in trouble because he couldn't sit down or in the Principal's office because he flew off the handle. I pictured a young teacher with black patent-leather stilettos and a polka-dotted black skirt, a wispy white scarf tied in her hair to keep her too long blond hair out of her face. She is always yelling at Bubba, telling him to sit down, be quiet, stop throwing things, or just answer the question, and, when thwarted, Bubba reacts as he often does, by screaming and losing all control. By the end of my day dreams Bubba is being escorted out of the room by the counselor as his classmates stare wide-eyed and open-mouthed and the teacher sits in tears, wondering what she could have done wrong.


This, I know, sounds absurd and a little wacky, but it has, nonetheless, been my fear. I have been constantly questioning myself about putting him in private school, especially since I have taught in public school. After all, Evander and I have always laughed at those politicians, school board members, and principals who are supposedly invested in the public but chose to place their children in private schools. I have been going back and forth on whether or not to allow Bubba to go to the public preschool or stay under his private umbrella where he is doing SO well.


All of these fears and questions are now being answered. Last night, I had dinner with some wonderful friends, all of whom are (or were) public school teachers. It was so nice to see everyone, laugh about old students, catch up on everyone's lives, and just enjoy one another's company. It felt great to be with a group of women who I would trust with my life, and, as I drove home, high on too much Dr. Pepper, it hit me.


These are the very women that would teach Bubba. These are the same ladies that would watch over him and keep him safe when I wasn't there. They are all some deviation of me. We all share a common thread, a love of teaching and of children. All we want is for our students to succeed. Why, then, if I trust these women so much, wouldn't I trust them with my child?


Suddenly the stress began to slip away. I instantly knew that Bubba's diet would be scrutinized with every bite and his anxiety wouldn't go unnoticed. He wouldn't be seen as a "bad kid" but as a child that needs a little extra love and attention. That is why, on October 1 @ 8:30, Bubba has an appointment to be evaluated for PPCD (public preschool for children with disabilities), and, if approved, he will attend.