Phone Call

Yesterday, as I sat diligently at my computer, checking emails and such (surfing was more like it), my cell phone rang from a number I didn't recognize. Could it be a recruiter? Did someone get my resume and want to schedule an interview? Or, was it a teacher, from the middle school, notifying me of my son's disruptive behavior in English class?

I've come to realize two things in my life. One, I really am a good mother. Two, some days I could just strangle my children.

Now to back up, this teacher was known as the "new hot English Teacher" before my son even started school this year. Sure, he's a teenager, in 8th grade, avoiding growing up at all costs, but still from the male persuasion. He was naturally excited to have this woman as his English teacher. Hey, I thought it would at least get my husband to Open House night.

The first day of school came and went. No comments on the new teacher. No insider view into a teenage boys angst. Even my husband couldn't get it out of him. Days passed. We're now closing in on day 10, and now I get a phone call from the teacher? Not what I expected.

This all reminded me of a time, not so long ago. It was my son's third grade experience. This was not a memorable one, unless you qualify negativity and "class clown" label as a memory. I admit, I have always supported the teacher. She knows this age better than anyone. It's like time doesn't move forward on them, because they are in a constant state of one age. How do they do it? Ohh, Third Grade. She didn't like him, and he didn't like her. He was questioning authority at a young age, and the perception was a negative one.

I tried to equate the current situation to his third grade experience. But this teacher was something he looked forward to. What went wrong? Hormones. Here they come. How best to get a girl's attention than to piss her off. He's brilliant. He was no longer questioning authority, rather he was taking authority. I'm not defending him, I'm not even making excuses for him. There is no reason to be disrespectful. But this had teenage lust written all over it.

That phone call was painful. At one moment I just wanted to laugh, the remaining time, I wanted to throttle his little neck. When he arrived home from school, we took a walk. In the office, I used to call these mobile meetings. They always seemed to loosen people up and not feel so confrontational. We walked and talked. I stated her case. He raised his voice. He defended himself with each accusation. I still think he'll be a lawyer someday.

He and I came to an agreement to move forward. Although, I wanted to have a meeting with him and the teacher, he wanted no part of that. Great negotiator. He refused. We laid out ground rules, which I had better follow through on.

I received a wonderful email today. It was from the English teacher. She was very impressed with my son as he apologized to her today for his behavior. Smooth.

No longer did I have that urge to wrap my hands around his neck. Rather, I put my arms around him and gave him a hug, and told him how proud I am to be his mom.