“What’s best for Maisie…” I repeated softly. “You mean, like not having Stage Four neuroblastoma? Because I definitely agree—that’s not in her best interest.”
Mr. Jonas cleared his throat and leaned forward, resting his wrinkled, folded hands on the table. “We absolutely sympathize, Ms. MacKenzie. What your daughter has been through is tragic.”
And there went my hackles, rising as my spine straightened. “It’s not tragic, Mr. Jonas. She’s not dead.”
“Of course not, my dear. We’re not saying that any of this is fair, but the truth is that Maisie might not be ready for first grade.”
My dear. Like I was a little girl in bloomers asking for a pretty new doll. To hell with that.
“We’ve done everything you’ve asked. Ms. May has been quite accommodating, and I assure you that she’s ready.”
“She is.” Ms. May nodded.
Principal Halsen sighed, taking off his glasses and cleaning an imaginary spot. “Let’s look at this from a different angle. Can you tell us where she’s at in her treatments? What we can expect in the coming months?”
I flipped back to the sheet where I kept the estimated treatment plan, realizing we’d gotten to a point where I wasn’t sure. We were at a crossroads.
“She just completed a major surgery two weeks ago. She’s healing wonderfully and is ready to come back to school on Monday. Then the week after, we’ll be in for another round of chemo, which as you know means she’s gone a solid school week. We’re hoping her levels will remain stable enough to come back for the end of school, but there’s no telling. Then we’re into summer. I’ll know more when we go in for chemo and I can meet with her oncologist.”
The administrators shared a look that made me feel like I wasn’t on the other side of the table but the other side of the battlefield. I felt that change come over me—the one that had appeared the moment they’d placed the twins in my arms—like pieces of armor clicking into place as I prepared to defend my child.
“Have you thought about having her repeat kindergarten? If she’s in a better situation to be fully present next school year, then it wouldn’t harm her. We wouldn’t force it, of course, but it’s worth a thought. In fact, a lot of our parents hold back their children at the kindergarten stage for various reasons. Certainly this procedure qualifies—”
I snapped.
“With all due respect, it wasn’t a procedure. It was a twelve-hour, life-threatening surgery in which they removed a tumor the size of a softball from my daughter’s adrenal gland. This isn’t an inconvenience; this is cancer. And no, next year won’t be better. She’s fighting for her life, so excuse me if I don’t share your worries that she may have missed the critical day of kindergarten when you covered the life cycle of the butterfly. Statistically she might not even…” My throat closed, my body rebelling against the words I hadn’t spoken since the day they’d given me her odds. “Next year will not be better.”
“And you don’t wish for her to repeat her kindergarten year.” Principal Halsen wrote down a note in the folder.
“It’s kindergarten. Do you seriously feel like she needs to?” A repeat wouldn’t just be hard for Maisie to swallow, but for Colt as well. They’d be a year apart in school, which would mean that even if—when—she beat the cancer, she’d have to look the consequences in the eye every day.
“She doesn’t,” Ms. May spoke up. “She’s quite bright, and she’ll do just fine in first grade,” she told the administrators.
The two men conferred quietly for a moment before turning back to me. “We’d like to offer you a solution. Transfer her to an at-home program. Kindergarten isn’t as academically challenging as first grade, and next year, she’ll need the flexibility.”
“Pull her out of school.”
“School her at home,” Mr. Jonas corrected. “We’re not against you, Ms. MacKenzie, or Maisie. We’re genuinely trying to figure out the best solution. She’s not in school for the required hours, and next year her workload will increase exponentially. Couple that with the liability of having her here with her weakened immune system, the worry placed on the staff, and the other children, and we all might be more comfortable—including Maisie. She could keep the best schedule for her health if she were schooled at home.”
Other cancer moms did that. I’d spoken with a few of them, but it always seemed like they pulled them out