so much anger. I wonder if I should be doing something more to help him, if I should have tried to get him to open up more about his feelings. I realise Mrs Lovatt is waiting for me to respond.
‘What happened?’ I ask, trying not to sound too panicked.
‘He was whispering to another child when he should have been listening to his teacher. Then, when Miss Santani reprimanded him, he muttered something rude under his breath. She asked him to repeat what he’d said, but he refused, so she told him to go and sit outside the classroom. He got very worked up, picked up his chair and threw it to the ground in anger before storming out. Luckily no one was hurt.’
My heart plummets. Obviously it’s unacceptable behaviour, but I ache for my troubled boy. ‘Where is he now?’
‘He’s sitting in a spare classroom with Mr Nichols, the PE teacher.’
‘I guess I should go and speak to him.’
‘I think it’s probably best if we leave him to calm down with Mr Nichols for now. He did seem sorry after his outburst, but obviously we had to let you know what had happened.’
I’m relieved that Ryan has calmed down, and I’m also grateful that, for once, someone else is dealing with the fallout instead of me. Does that make me a bad parent? I don’t know. Maybe just an exhausted one. Mrs Lovatt’s face remains impassive. She’s new to the school and seems like a cold sort of person. There’s no warmth to her expression. No sympathy or understanding in her eyes. Just a kind of bland exasperation, as though this whole situation is an annoying inconvenience.
And all the while, I have this increasing background worry in my head that I’ve let a total stranger into our house. That she’s there right now doing goodness knows what. But then what kind of person would I be if turned away someone in such obvious distress? What if I’d sent her packing and she came to serious harm? I want to live in a world where people care, where people don’t turn away from helping others. But right this minute my son needs me more than anyone else.
‘So what happens now?’ I ask.
‘I’ve spoken to the head and she’s said we’ll let it go this time. You really need to speak to him when he comes home. Impress upon him that he can’t let this happen again. That there will be consequences next time. Obviously this is not the sort of behaviour we expect from Ashridge children.’
‘Of course.’ I’m a little miffed that she’s talking about Ashridge Academy like she knows the place inside out. She’s only worked here a few months, for goodness sake. My kids have been coming here since they were four, and I went here as a child too. But I squash down the uncharitable thought. She’s only doing her job, after all.
‘The thing is,’ she continues, ‘Miss Santani says that Ryan’s work has been well below average this year. He’s not at all engaged and he’s been much quieter than usual. The playground staff have noticed that he’s started sitting on his own at lunch and break times.’
This news surprises me. Although he’s never been overly sociable, he’s always had friends. ‘Do you think he’s being bullied?’ The thought makes my throat constrict.
She shakes her head. ‘Not that I’m aware of.’
‘Well, that’s something.’ But teachers don’t always know everything that’s going on. I make a mental note to try and find out if he’s being picked on. It feels as though my eldest son is slipping away from me. He’s only eleven. He needs me. He needs his dad.
‘Has he had any violent outbursts at home?’ she asks.
My hackles go up and I take a breath to try to stay calm. I have to tell myself that she’s only trying to help. ‘No, nothing like that. He’s been quiet and maybe a little angry, but never violent.’ I sigh. ‘He’s just not interested in anything. He loves sailing, but he doesn’t even want to do that anymore. He’s refused to enter this year’s junior regatta, and that used to be the focal point of his life. He used to enter with his dad though, so…’
‘I understand that Ryan’s father died last year?’
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
‘Have you considered getting him some grief counselling?’
‘I did think about it, but we were doing okay. I didn’t think things had got that serious.’
‘If things don’t improve, it could