My Boy

A week ago I got a phone call from J’s school principal. The police had come to school to inform them that someone filed a police report against J because he had shown them a knife the day before on his walk home. They called J into the office and asked him what was going on and if he had the knife with him at the moment. He pulled it out and set it on the table for them and didn’t say another word.

J is extremely sensitive and empathetic. He tries to build other kids up. He loves babies and writing sweet letters to his girlfriend. He isn’t a mean kid, or a vengeful kid. He isn’t full of hate and he would never be able to live with himself if he hurt someone. I couldn’t wrap my mind around why he would have or bring a knife to school.

I was so mad at him when he got home that I couldn’t even deal with him without yelling or feeling compassion so I sent him to his Dad’s house for the night. I had no explanation of what happened and why in the world he would ever have a knife at school. We left for Texas the next morning and didn’t talk about it at all. I could see his fear and sadness. I tried to lift his mood and let him be free for the weekend to enjoy our small getaway but he was so heavy-hearted I could barely get through.

Yesterday he was home alone and his only instruction was to write. I needed him to write me and tell me what happened. I knew we were having our meeting today with the school and his teachers and counselors to determine the disciplinary action and they were going to want the same answers I did.

J’s school is a mile and half away from our house and he has to walk unless someone can pick him up in the afternoon. Most of the time he walks to the library and waits there for me. Every minute I can’t see him and he’s out in the world I worry. I worry because I know he’s afraid to use public bathrooms so he’s holding it. I worry that kids will be assholes. Mostly I worry about the adults, that someone will see him and target him for something far worse than just a kid saying something stupid. He struggles all the time. He’s a 13 year old boy living in the developing body of a girl and it kills him and there is nothing in the world I can do to make it different. He feels less than and alone. As a parent when you see your child hurting you rush to make it better. Band aids, doctors, ice cream, just please stop hurting and be ok and when you can’t make it ok and there is no way to make it ok it’s kind of like having millions of tiny jagged tears in your heart, always painful, always bleeding.

We met with the school today and J has been expelled for the rest of the school year. Actions have consequences and his were wrong. I told them I was going to home school him next year to give him time to more fully develop his sense of self and grow stronger but also selfishly on my part because then I would know where he was at all times and I could breathe a little easier. After the read his letter they hoped I would reconsider. They want him there. They want to help him grow and see him be able to transition into the real world too. It’s still something I need to figure and decide but having so many people around wanting to share in supporting and helping my boy along is overwhelming in a good way. I think it’s an extraordinary thing to have found so many people who can see beyond themselves and really want to help make the life of this one kid a little better. Thank you to all of you who march in our army.

J’s Letter

Us in Texas