It was bound to happen at some point. There is none righteous - no, not one. Carter got a reteach at school. Yes, I know the name "reteach" is ridiculous. I am not a politically correct type and I think many times, you can call it whatever you like, everyone knows what it really is. So, Carter was given a reteach and had to sit out of part of recess. That really wouldn't have been so horrible by itself, but he tried to hide it from me. Well, of course he did. He'd never had one before, he was worried we'd be angry with him, he'd get more punishment, and probably worst, we'd be disappointed because he'd never had one before. So, we had a "discussion" instructing him to not hide these things any more.
Honestly, I didn't think it would be a problem again. I thought for sure he probably wouldn't get another reteach, at least this year. Except he has not particularly enjoyed the first grade even though he has made some great friends. He is no longer the sweet boy all the girls befriend but instead hangs in the middle of all the rough-and-tumble boys. And recently he has complained about how much he dislikes school. It's easy to see he's tired and ready for some respite. We all are. And really, First Grade is ridiculous. Seriously. The kid can have up to THREE TESTS on Fridays. Reading skills tests, math tests, and spelling tests seem like the SAT at this point. He really dreads Fridays.
On top of all this homework ridiculousness is the room environment. On a normal day, the temperature in that room is 212 degrees. That's right friends, it's boiling in there. The whole school is going through renovation and that seems to affect their ability to cool down that one room in particular. I visited there when I was pregnant with Arabella for the Halloween party - I nearly passed out. That is no exaggeration. I had to leave the room. When I returned, I boldly opened the door and said if the other classrooms had a problem with it, they could speak to me because the temperature was, well, ridiculous. How are these poor kids supposed to function when sweat is dripping off their noses on to their papers? And when we tried to open the windows, they wouldn't budge. So, not even a breeze.
So, I have a child with little reason to be excited about going to school. It really shouldn't be a surprise he was RETAUGHT two days later. But what did surprise me was that he tried to hide it again! I can tell you are just as shocked as I was. I just stared at him like "are you stupid?" I managed to not say it but I really did think it. That meant I had to tell his dad. And that went over like a lead balloon. Carter received a boom lowering. Well, it's not that bad of a sentence but he acts like he's on death row. He says things like "I wish I could play some Wii." Or, "can I have one of those brownies?" I finally asked "Whose fault is it that you can't play Wii or have a dessert for the next three days?" And this child had the audacity to sort of shrug and sigh "nobody's."
I felt this sharp pain shoot through my head as it began to split open. Searing lasers streamed from my eyes, and fire lapped out my nostrils. I managed to not kill him. I asked him "Really? You really think it's nobody's fault?" Some sort of recognition hit him; he realized that he had given the wrong answer but it was abundantly clear from the remaining confusion on his face that he did not understand how that answer was wrong. I decided to be a loving mother and say "it's your fault. You DO understand that, right." His eyes fell and he mumbled "Yes ma'am. I understand that."
The Bible tells us in Hebrews. "For whom the Lord loves he chastens, and whips every son whom he receives." Ouch. It sounds like either tough love or a contradiction. But really, it's not. If I didn't love my son, I'd just let him take the path he is on and we'd see where that takes him. Likely, it would be to his own destruction. I've known kids who weren't loved like that, their parents thought discipline was damaging and now, well, let's just say those kids aren't exactly contributing to society in a positive way. So, even though I hate punishing him and I want to believe it's all just a big misunderstanding, the proof is before me. He's wicked. He needs to learn there are consequences. He needs to know I love him enough to make him feel a little uncomfortable now to avoid a life full of ruin.
The most humbling part of all of this is the fact that it illuminates all the same wickedness in me. Luckily, my mother is around with her switch to "love" me.
*Carter was caught two more times over the weekend exhibiting unacceptable behavior and punished accordingly. This parenting thing is not for the weak.*
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