mine.
“Fuckin’ ouch.”
“You’re fine,” I laugh, before opening the door.
Together we walk through it. The girl standing at the desk looks to be about Tatum’s age, if not younger. She’s teaching my son?
“Hi.” She looks down at her paper. “Are you Walker’s parents?”
“Yes, I’m Mandy and this is Dalton.” She shakes both our hands and then motions for us to have a seat in front of her.
“It’s so nice to meet you two,” she starts, having a seat behind her desk. “I should let you know I’ve been made aware of the difficulties you’ve had in your household within the past few months. Walker has had a few times where he’s acted out and I’ve asked him what’s wrong. I’m so sorry about the loss of your child.”
The pang of devastation and tears I expect to come, that have always come when someone mentions the baby, aren’t there this time. I wonder why, and she pauses long enough to give me a second to contemplate it. Perhaps it was the way she gave her condolences, with a soft voice, or maybe I’m getting better? Either way I’ll take it. I don’t want people to be scared to talk to me, to be afraid I’ll lose my head over a small word here or there.
Dalton takes up the slack, putting an arm around my neck. “Thank you, it’s definitely been a trying time for our family, and I’m afraid somehow Walker got missed in us doing our best to heal.”
“It’s not unusual.” She smiles softly. “I honestly see it a lot, and I want you to know, you’re not alone. Just like Walker isn’t alone in having issues coping with it either.”
“Is he still having issues?” I ask. “I was gone for a little bit, to recover, and I was hoping that since I’m back, it would have improved for him.”
She grabs some papers from her binder, putting them in front of her. “Walker is an exceptionally bright student. If it were up to me, I would push him ahead a grade or two. I think he could test out and move straight to high school. That choice though is up to you.” She shows us the papers both with A’s on the top of them. The math he’s worked out looks like Greek to me, and just from reading a few sentences of the writing he’s done, it’s obvious he’s above grade level.
Dalton and I look at one another, but I’m the one who speaks up. “What would be the cons of letting him go ahead?”
“Like most kids his age, there’s a lack of maturity. While physically he’s bigger than most of the kids in his class, he doesn’t have all the necessary coping skills to express how he feels without attempting to use his fists.” She risks a glance at Dalton.
“No one told us he’s been fighting.” Dalton sits up straighter.
“He’s not - yet – and I hope he won’t, he’s been better lately.” She nods at me. “No disrespect, I am in no position to judge you, ma’am.”
“None taken.” I give her a small smile. “There are certain aspects of our son you know better than we do. He has started counseling, and he should be improving. If he makes the changes we believe he will, then do you think he should test out?”
“Yes.” She nods enthusiastically. “There are huge scholarship opportunities for him. Whether he wants to go to a traditional college or pick up a trade, either one of them would more than likely be completely paid for. His problem-solving and cognitive skills are through the roof.
“What about sports?” They’re very important to him, and I wouldn’t want to get rid of something he enjoys.
“That goes by grade level, not by age,” she confirms the one drawback I had.
When I glance over at Dalton, I wonder if he’s worried. Worried that our son will choose to go to a traditional college rather than pick a trade. The trade that’s been in our family since we became a family.
“Thank you so much for talking to us,” I reach out my hand to shake hers before we leave. “I’m very glad to know what we’ve gone through as a family in the last few months hasn’t seemed to affect his school performance.”
She smiles. “Walker is a bright child, and he’s got his head on straight.” Softly she adds. “Whatever troubles you may have had at home, your son is a leader and a great student. You’ve done this right.”
Pride