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Today was the last day of school. The 3rd graders that I have expended hundreds (thousands?) of hours on over the past year have gone on. The children that I have coached, enlightened, guided and, yes, loved are now moving on to 4th grade. They don't need me anymore. 
The worst part? It ended on a particularly bad note with one of my kids. His family background is a horror story. At the tender age of 9, he has been in 6 different school districts. His disability clearly falls somewhere under the Autism umbrella, yet his mother refuses to have him tested. Today, when coming in from recess, I noticed that he had a softball sized rock in his hand. I explained to him that rocks need to stay outside. He retaliated by winging the rock at my head.
He missed by a mile. But I reacted. I told him to report directly to the office. And I left him there. Through lunch (though, I had one of his classmates deliver his tray to him.)
By the end of the day, when he was walking down the hall to catch his bus, he kept "falling" down on the floor. I watched from my doorway as he did this 4 times before walking outside. I pondered over this for a while, when it occurred to me. He wasn't falling down. He didn't want to leave.
God love him. He was mad at me. Teachers are supposed to protect the children in their charge. I haven't protected him (despite 2 formal IEP attempts in which his mother's presence was requested--and ignored.) Instead, I am sending him home for the summer to his mother, who evidently doesn't have a nurturing bone in her body.
My heart is breaking for him. I wish I had just one more day to make his departure a more comforting one.
The worst part? It ended on a particularly bad note with one of my kids. His family background is a horror story. At the tender age of 9, he has been in 6 different school districts. His disability clearly falls somewhere under the Autism umbrella, yet his mother refuses to have him tested. Today, when coming in from recess, I noticed that he had a softball sized rock in his hand. I explained to him that rocks need to stay outside. He retaliated by winging the rock at my head.
By the end of the day, when he was walking down the hall to catch his bus, he kept "falling" down on the floor. I watched from my doorway as he did this 4 times before walking outside. I pondered over this for a while, when it occurred to me. He wasn't falling down. He didn't want to leave.
My heart is breaking for him. I wish I had just one more day to make his departure a more comforting one.