“I don’t think leaves are pink, dummy,” Sebastian said as he flicked my ear.
What? We have a tree in our yard with pink!
“Good observation,” Dad said.
“Maybe you should get him in to see an eye doctor too,” Raquel said.
When the classroom door opened, I looked down so I wouldn’t have to see the other kid. They didn’t like me anyhow. My teacher said hello to us as we walked inside. After Dad introduced Raquel to my teacher, I sat beside Dad and looked at my teacher as she began talking.
“Patrick is a great child to have in my classroom—”
“Because he doesn’t talk?” Raquel asked.
“No. He’s one of my best listeners and always follows directions. Getting first graders to follow directions isn’t always easy. As you can see on the progress report, Patrick is one of the best math students. I do think he needs more attention, though.”
She hates me too.
I couldn’t stop the tears building up in my eyes. They just kept coming, and I quickly looked down. My throat burned, and I kept my mouth closed as tightly as I could.
“We give him tons of attention. Unfortunately, a lot more time is spent dealing with him than on Sebastian. We just discovered Sebastian needs more time working on his subjects,” Raquel told my teacher.
“Patrick, look up and pay attention. Listen to what your teacher is saying,” Dad told me.
I took a slow, deep breath and then looked up.
“Oh, Patrick, sweetie,” my teacher said when she saw my face. “Does he not express himself at home?”
“Patrick expresses himself fine at home. He’s shy and introverted and has delayed speech,” Dad said. “I explained this to you, the school counselor, and the front office at the start of the school year.”
“I recall, Dr. Dawson. I recall you also mentioning the speech delay was due to stress in the home.”
“That’s correct. His mother left me with him just after he turned four. We’ve had stress in the home.”
“That’s understandable. I can’t help but think, though, that Patrick might be better served in a school with a lower classroom count.”
“Because you don’t want to work with my son?”
“Dr. Dawson, I’m only voicing my opinion on what might be most beneficial for Patrick.”
“It seems to me you don’t want to teach my son. Patrick listens and he understands. What would be most beneficial for him would be to remain in a mainstream classroom. He’s fine at home, and he deserves to learn just like other kids. I don’t want my son in another school. He doesn’t need special attention. He needs to learn like all the other kids. This school is one of the best in Beverly Hills. I pay good money for him to attend this school. Now, we’ve established nothing since I’ve been in this conference. You’ve told me nothing I don’t already know.”
My teacher looked at me and then picked up her red pen and pointed to things on my report card.
“Patrick has an A in math and Cs in reading, language arts, and spelling. Does someone help him in the evenings with spelling and reading?”
“No. I work long hours, and Raquel is busy with her own son. As I mentioned, they recently moved in, and we’re still getting into a routine.”
Dad slid the report card closer toward me and wrapped his hand around my arm. He pulled me by my arm closer to the table.
“Do you see these grades? An A and three Cs. These Cs are going to change by next report card,” Dad said, then he hit me in the back of my head. “Understand?”
“Dr. Dawson, please don’t strike him. Forgive me for asking, but is there possibly a trauma in his past?”
Dad laughed.
“Trauma. Why don’t you let me handle any psychological issues with my son, and you handle teaching him to read, spell, and formulate sentences on paper.”
Seven years old /1st Grade/April
