Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
qualm (n.): a feeling of doubt or uncertainty
Nina and Paige arrive that evening to hang with Chase while I’m at parent-teacher conferences. Smiling, Nina holds out a brown box tied up with pink ribbon. On the top, she’s written “Happy Anniversary.”
I’m too undone to respond. Nina is one of the precious few with whom I’ve confided every detail of my past. What a grace to have someone like her in my life. Someone safe. Nonjudgmental. Beautiful Nina, who has also come face-to-face with darkness and found her way back to the light.
“I . . . thank you.”
Nina and I share more than kid-sitting duties. I’m her occasional plant nanny, and she often indulges a weakness of mine, marionberry cinnamon rolls from the Trading Post. Yum.
Except, at the moment, I have no appetite.
I wish I could say I’m in a purely celebratory mood, but remembering Chase’s school experience last year, I’m all addlepated about this meeting with his teacher. Mrs. De Los Santos and I have only met briefly. No notes have come home with Chase.
Is this a good sign?
Does she have a heart for students who require special accommodations?
Or will this be a repeat of last year, when Chase felt singled out as a problem child?
Things improved once he was allowed to move to a different classroom, but not without a lot of awkwardness.
It’s taken time to help Chase shed the “bad kid” label he accepted as gospel truth after being matched with the wrong teacher.
Much as I hate being a disturbance, I will be that again if that’s what it takes for Chase to enjoy a healthy learning environment.
On the open door to Mrs. De Los Santos’s classroom, a colorful banner reads “I’m so glad you’re here.” It’s a good start, communicating a welcoming environment for kids and, today, their parents.
But how does she feel about my son?
This matters to me.
The classroom is decorated in subdued colors. Everywhere I turn I find bold affirmations posted on the walls.
I am not afraid to fail.
I encourage others.
I am kind.
I’ve noticed, however, that adjectives like nice and kind are often reserved for children who are by nature quiet and compliant. Does Chase’s teacher have eyes to see that a child can be both kind and behind the curve in self-management?
Mrs. De Los Santos wears a bright green polka-dot dress and a smile that radiates welcome.
Still, shaking her hand, I’m on my guard.
“Mrs. Montgomery,” she says.
“Call me Lucy, please.”
“Lucy.” She encloses my hand in both of hers—they’re warm—and meets my eyes. “I have really been looking forward to meeting you. You’re welcome to grab that folder off Chase’s desk. You’ll find some wonderful samples of his work. And something special he made for you.”
On top of the folder is an envelope that says “To Mom.” I bring both items with me and take my place across from the young teacher with high cheekbones and a beautiful, kind smile.
Mrs. De Los Santos launches into what feels like a standard conversation about her educational goals for the term.
“If you don’t mind me interrupting,” I say, “how are things going with Chase?”
She smiles. “Not without a few bumps, of course. But I have to tell you, I am very impressed with Chase’s ability to advocate for himself. He’s quite aware of his strengths as well as his challenges.”
“We talk openly about both. We all have them, don’t we?”
“That is certainly true. You know, there’s something else I’d like to discuss,” she says.
Oh dear. Here it comes. I shift in my chair.
“Someone brought your name to the school’s attention, and now that I’ve spent every day with Chase for a number of weeks, I understand why.”
“Someone brought up . . . ?”
“Do you know a parent named”—she checks her notes—“Jennifer Moncado? She seems to know you. I can’t discuss her child’s situation. Confidentiality and all. But—”
“I’m aware that Liam may have developmental delays.”
“Oh, good! Then it probably won’t come as any surprise that Jennifer recommended you to the staff as a potential resource.
School administrators are aware that bullying and social stigma can be an issue for students who are, say, on the autism spectrum, or disabled, or for any reason fall under special ed.
Jennifer’s input helped spur the idea to assemble a task force to strategize about how best to address those kinds of problems. I’m planning to participate, and we’d like to extend the invitation to you as well. ”
“Oh.” In the time it takes me to push my glasses farther up my nose, I’ve already decided. “Well, that’s an easy yes.”
Look at you with the easy yeses.
“Chase is quite remarkable, it goes without saying.”
I smile. “Thank you for not letting it go without saying.”
***
Later, seated at my kitchen table, poised to massacre my thickly iced anniversary treat one gooey layer at a time, I tune in to the emotion welling beneath my breastbone.
Looking back over this day, over the months and years before it, how did I ever question whether I was seen and treasured by the same Creator who dreamed up gold-needled tamaracks?
I lean back, luxuriating in the sweet mingling of flavors, along with a sweet awareness.
Another part of me has reawakened.
It’s still there after all. That place deep within me that yearns to reach until it hurts a little and offer to others whatever goodness I’ve been given to share.
Am I comfortable with the summons to engage in an official school forum? Not really. But I’m never asked to do hard things alone.
Where do I sign, Lord?