I am ready. I have decided that I am going to write the ending of my volunteering at the elementary school. I have on my bright blue East Indian silk tunic, bright orange sandals, and...make-up even! My arms are full. I have three plants, 25 cookies for the kids in Mrs. D's classroom, and 45 for Teaching Staff since it is Educator Appreciation Week. I have already stopped at the bookstore and ordered 25 hardback copies of One Fish, Two Fish.
First stop, the secretary. She chooses the Purple Passion plant. I find out where the staff lounge and deposit my selection of giant oatmeal, ginger snap, and chocolate chip cookies from Great Harvest. If you're gonna indulge, I say do it all the way and with style. I have left a card with my name on it.
Next stop, Mrs. D's room. She greets me with a smile. I give her the plants (one for her and one for the student teacher), and the cookies for the kids.
"You didn't have to do that." she says.
"I don't HAVE to do anything, but I WANTED to." I counter "I'm sorry things ended up this way."
"M's mom was just so upset that you were telling her things about her daughter unsolicited, when it should have been my place to tell her." sighs Mrs. D.
"She asked how Marisol was doing," I respond.
Her eyes widen a bit, "She didn't tell me that." She responds back. "But she was very upset."
"Was she mad at you?" I ask, curious.
"No, hunh uh."
"Well better mad at me then at you. What did she tell the principal?" I query.
"No, she didn't, she just talked to me."
Thud! My heart. The scales are falling from my eyes. I had thought that she was caught between the principal wanting to keep control of things due to liability and confidentiality issues, and her wanting me in the classroom. But I see now, it's an intimidation and territoriality thing. I don't understand these kinds of games. I sigh. I work so hard to be approachable and NOT infringe. But this has happened to me before, and I've tried to learn from it and change. I'll have to re-examine myself.
"I've ordered One Fish Two Fish books and would like to come back and give them to the kids." She nods, but I'm not sure she's comprehending what I'm asking. She mentions that I might want to tutor. I make some non-committal comment.
We hug, and I wend my way back to the office and the principal, Mr.H. He is there and cheerful. He greets me and we go into his "office/conference room". We chat. I apologize. He says, "After 20 years in the classroom, I'm not sure I could volunteer in the classroom and keep my mouth shut."
"Yeah," I respond. I've decided if I volunteer again, it will have to be with the understanding that I am going to share my expertise."
He nods. "You might want to tutor," He says. Did these guys totally miss that I'm an Occupational Therapist? If I'm going to do anything (which I don't have the health to do), it is going to be doing what I'm trained to do, and what is my passion. Sigh. "So I guess this an AFGO." I say to him, "Do you know what that is?" Mr. H shakes his head in the negative. We edge closer into his office. "Another Fucking Growth Opportunity." He laughs, delighted.
"I love that," he says. " I can't use it here, but it's so applicable." We talk, kind of skirting around the impact of the whole thing. "Yeah," he says. "The principal at Longfellow (the other low income, predominantly Native American school in town) says it like this: The parents here feel like 'I can't buy you this. I can't buy you that, I can't buy you much, but I sure as hell can kick somebody's ass for you!'" I take that in to think about later.
We shake hands as I thank him again. As I'm leaving the office, I spy Mauricio sitting on the floor in the outer office. "Mr. H!" he pipes up. "I'm in the office and not in trouble!" Smiles everywhere! We all clap and cheer. My hands are empty, but my heart is not, as I walk out those heavy doors. They shut behind me as I walk into a glorious sunny Montana spring day.
May your hearts be full.
Peace.
Kismet
Copyright May 9, 2013
First stop, the secretary. She chooses the Purple Passion plant. I find out where the staff lounge and deposit my selection of giant oatmeal, ginger snap, and chocolate chip cookies from Great Harvest. If you're gonna indulge, I say do it all the way and with style. I have left a card with my name on it.
Next stop, Mrs. D's room. She greets me with a smile. I give her the plants (one for her and one for the student teacher), and the cookies for the kids.
"You didn't have to do that." she says.
"I don't HAVE to do anything, but I WANTED to." I counter "I'm sorry things ended up this way."
"M's mom was just so upset that you were telling her things about her daughter unsolicited, when it should have been my place to tell her." sighs Mrs. D.
"She asked how Marisol was doing," I respond.
Her eyes widen a bit, "She didn't tell me that." She responds back. "But she was very upset."
"Was she mad at you?" I ask, curious.
"No, hunh uh."
"Well better mad at me then at you. What did she tell the principal?" I query.
"No, she didn't, she just talked to me."
Thud! My heart. The scales are falling from my eyes. I had thought that she was caught between the principal wanting to keep control of things due to liability and confidentiality issues, and her wanting me in the classroom. But I see now, it's an intimidation and territoriality thing. I don't understand these kinds of games. I sigh. I work so hard to be approachable and NOT infringe. But this has happened to me before, and I've tried to learn from it and change. I'll have to re-examine myself.
"I've ordered One Fish Two Fish books and would like to come back and give them to the kids." She nods, but I'm not sure she's comprehending what I'm asking. She mentions that I might want to tutor. I make some non-committal comment.
We hug, and I wend my way back to the office and the principal, Mr.H. He is there and cheerful. He greets me and we go into his "office/conference room". We chat. I apologize. He says, "After 20 years in the classroom, I'm not sure I could volunteer in the classroom and keep my mouth shut."
"Yeah," I respond. I've decided if I volunteer again, it will have to be with the understanding that I am going to share my expertise."
He nods. "You might want to tutor," He says. Did these guys totally miss that I'm an Occupational Therapist? If I'm going to do anything (which I don't have the health to do), it is going to be doing what I'm trained to do, and what is my passion. Sigh. "So I guess this an AFGO." I say to him, "Do you know what that is?" Mr. H shakes his head in the negative. We edge closer into his office. "Another Fucking Growth Opportunity." He laughs, delighted.
"I love that," he says. " I can't use it here, but it's so applicable." We talk, kind of skirting around the impact of the whole thing. "Yeah," he says. "The principal at Longfellow (the other low income, predominantly Native American school in town) says it like this: The parents here feel like 'I can't buy you this. I can't buy you that, I can't buy you much, but I sure as hell can kick somebody's ass for you!'" I take that in to think about later.
We shake hands as I thank him again. As I'm leaving the office, I spy Mauricio sitting on the floor in the outer office. "Mr. H!" he pipes up. "I'm in the office and not in trouble!" Smiles everywhere! We all clap and cheer. My hands are empty, but my heart is not, as I walk out those heavy doors. They shut behind me as I walk into a glorious sunny Montana spring day.
May your hearts be full.
Peace.
Kismet
Copyright May 9, 2013
:-) Interesting.
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