I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you for humiliating my son in front of his peers this morning. It was bad enough that he missed the memo and wore his JROTC uniform to school on the wrong day. It was even worse that I had to rush home, grab some clothes for him, and come back to the school looking like a drug addict with my yoga pants and bedhead. But you went out of your way to escalate the situation, and I really appreciate your efforts.
If you’ll recall, I told you when I came into the office that Jayden would need help changing out of his uniform. That’s why I waited 20 minutes for him to finish a test instead of just dropping off the bag of clothes. That’s why I was willing to sit there in the office making small talk with half the people I graduated with even though I looked terrible.
When Jayden came into the office, though, you chose to ignore everything I said. When I asked if there was a place I could take him to help him get changed, you opted to ask, loudly, “YOU MEAN HE CAN’T CHANGE CLOTHES BY HIMSELF?” And when I informed you (quietly) that he is autistic and in occupational therapy, thus not being able to deal with all the buckles and buttons, you decided that would be a great time to shout, “OH, I DIDN’T REALIZE HE WAS A SPECIAL ED KID,” in front of all the other kids in the office.
I’m not a huge stickler for politically correct language, but there are some things you just don’t say. And there are some issues that you don’t need to draw attention to, especially when the kid in question is 14 and becoming acutely aware of how different he is. I know you can’t be expected to know the life story of every student in the school, but that’s why I made the effort to explain things. YOU made the choice not to listen.
I didn’t say anything this time. After all, you probably have all kinds of opinions about me and my parenting skills after the way I looked this morning. But the next time my child has a wardrobe malfunction, I’ll look like a normal human. I will let you know again that he will need help changing. And so help me, woman, if you make one comment that draws even more attention to my son’s disability, especially in front of other kids, YOU might be the one who needs help.
Thanks again for your ignorance. It made me feel better to know that, while I might have looked like crap, at least I have the decency to treat other people like people.