Tales from the Shark Tank

Every so often, someone asks me why we stay in the house we’re in.  It’s small, cold in the winter, drafty, old, and has mice, which is why we have cats in spite of allergies.  We don’t have room to put half our stuff away, it doesn’t have much closet space, and there isn’t a level floor surface in it.  Indoor plumbing is an afterthought, and electricity arrived with rural electrification.  It was built and added on to by a succession of farmers with no concept of building according to a plan, and it shows.

But then there are the redeeming features.  Our landlady is a joy.  Last winter, when the power went out, she and her husband brought us a generator without being asked.  She calls to chat and to check on me now and then.  We’re friends. Our neighbors are wonderful too.   It’s just comfortable.

And most of all, there is the school district.  I have seen huge urban school districts.  Even the good ones seem to do only what they must, and because they have so many kids there’s a lot of “one size fits all” thinking.  It’s entirely too easy for a kid to slip through the cracks.

Not here.  Every teacher knows every child in every grade.  There’s no “kids will be kids” or ignoring bullying.  A lot of schools say they don’t tolerate it, but in reality turn a totally blind eye.  Not here.   Last year, when it came to the teachers’ attention that our son was being excluded on the play ground, and told “game closed”, they stepped in.  There were to be no closed games.  Period.  It took a matter of a few days for me to have a happy kid again.

And then we come to today.  Some 7th graders decided it would be fun to torment the 6th grade boys in the locker room.  One of  the 6th graders was my son.  Not to worry; he’s fine, because it was handled very well indeed.  The principal and guidance counselor were right on it.  They got statements from all concerned.  They made sure the younger kids were very clear that it wasn’t their fault.  They asked the victims what consequence they would consider fair.  They did the same for the parents.  I got a call from the principal and counselor at 6:00 pm, and they talked to me for half an hour.  The bullies will get in-school suspension (they do their class work, but are separate from the other kids), will not be allowed back until they and their parents have had a conference with the administrators, and will be required to research and write a paper about autism, to help make them aware of non-visible disabilities.  They will also be required to apologize to the kids they tormented.

Punishment to fit the offense, tailored to the children in question.  Input from and empowerment of the victims. Requiring the bullies to accept responsibility, and using the opportunity to teach about tolerance, empathy and diversity.

This school system is a tiny gem.  Why ever would we leave?

Dear Miss Cloud,

Please don’t give me dirty looks for laughing at you. I couldn’t help it. You looked like Dick Van Dyke doing that signature roll over the ottoman during the opening of the show.

I do know what you were trying to do. You were trying to jump on the bed, as you’ve done several hundred times before. You gave your little chirruping trill of warning, wriggled your patchwork quilt design butt, and leapt – and almost missed. So you grabbed the quilt with your claws and kicked off with those strong back legs again. Trouble is, you overcompensated and arrived on the bed in a classic somersault, rolling tail over nose and arriving on your back.

I know, I wasn’t even supposed to notice the manner of your arrival, let alone laugh out loud. I couldn’t help it. It was so magnificently klutzy.

Grace, thy name is not Cloud.