No really, it’s okay for me to thank God, because I’m Catholic. So it’s not blasphemy or anything.
And today I’m thanking Him for good teachers. Because if you’ve been following my blog, you’ll know that I own a sweet little guy with a social anxiety disorder. (Remember this post?)
Getting him diagnosed was half the battle, and when we did, I spent a lot of time describing the condition to his teachers and school helpers – trying to communicate in a succinct way that he’s fully capable of speaking, but in social situations, he often chooses not to.
(In other words, so NOT like his mama.)
Hence, with a brand new school year and a brand new school, it was my responsibility to find some time to have a quick chat with his teacher. Warn her, if you will! You know, just casually inform that there’s a super cute kid who’s super smart and super silly but may have a problem borrowing a pencil crayon from a classmate. Even though he has no problem ripping it from his little brother’s hands. *shakes fist*
Well, this afternoon, I decided to break the news to his teacher, who had three full days to spend with him and therefore, would have likely cottoned on to the anxious kid with light-up shoes. (Empire Strikes Back shoes y’all! Totally bought them for my own perverse enjoyment.)
I began the conversation with “So, how’s his anxiety?” – as if we had already had an in depth discussion about it and she knew all about his behavioural history. It was either that, or say: “You don’t know me, but I have a kid whom I can’t relate to and I kind of want to give you money because you take him off my hands for hours each day and I know you don’t know me from Adam but I’m putting all of my eggs in your basket with the hope you can make him talk at school cause Lord knows (again, not blasphemy) that he talks too much at home.” Riight… not happening. So let’s just say I was pretty happy with my opening.
However, within moments of chatting with her, she asked, “Is he a selective mute?”
Hand on heart, I almost cried on the spot. Then I wanted to break out in a dance of joy. And I even briefly considered pausing and buying an expensive handbag online, because these moments of kismet need to be celebrated and nothing marks the occasion like Marc Jacobs.
After years of trying to describe his social disorder to teachers, parents, friends, strangers, you name it! …
Here was someone who understood. Who spoke Ryder’s language… even when he doesn’t speak.
I nodded my head enthusiastically and rushed to tell her everything I could about Ryder and his social quirks. And, by the end of our conversation, I walked away with a skip in my step, knowing that he will undoubtedly get the help he needs to emerge from his shell this year. I’m so happy! Thank God for great teachers.
p.s. That’s Ryder on his first day. Those eyes! Love him to pieces.