Round One...Wait, Is This A Fight?

Here's the thing. I call the school because I am horrified beyond belief by the id ea that something has happened to Niko at school. And they didn't make it any easier.

The first woman I talked to sounded almost sarcastic at first. She kept interrupting me with all of these questions. "They didn't say what the abuse was? Where were these women when this conversation took place? What are their names?" Which I understand, but let's be honest. I'm a freakin' WRECK. I wasn't calling in anger, I was calling heartsick. Then it all became a "We need names we need names we need names" thing, to the point that I was afraid there wouldn't be an investigation without me somehow getting all of these names. When I said that, she was all, "No, I'll pass what information I have on, but I really need those names."

I understand that. It's tough to investigate without knowing who is making allegations. But it also had the eerie feel of a witch hunt. I was so angry that the teachers didn't stand up and report my son, but now I think that I can see why.

A few minutes later, a different woman called and asked for their names. I said that I didn't know, that my friend knew them but I didn't. She told me that they needed their names so that they could interview them quickly before they had a chance to get together and come up with...answers.

My son was lost in this. It felt like battle. Why does this school district always feel like battle?? I had to fight to get him admitted. I had to fight for them to accept them in his wheelchair. And now I have to fight for this. Why can't they just say, "Oh, how horrible, we'll look into it immediately"? How about a "Thank you for letting us know your concern?" I feel like I could bash my head against a wall. I'm angry at the thought of abuse, sad, disgusted, and then I feel bad about accusing Niko's teacher because I like her so well. And apologetic. I don't make waves; I smooth them over. That's the kind of person that I am, so this is very hard for me. On the other hand, I'll be hung if I don't stand up for my little boy.

But there is always light in the darkness, and let me tell you about this piece of light. We had the missionaries over for dinner last night, and one of them had found a broken laptop and asked if he could take the keyboard from it. So he shows up and dances it around in front of me. I'm missing 14 keys from my keyboard, for those of you who don't know. The fact that I can type at all is a testament to my strength of will. :P

But he spent an hour picking out keys that fit, and this morning I glued them on. Sure, I have three Alt keys and two C's, but I don't look at the keyboard when I type. I have all of my keys. I no longer have to shift with my right pinkie. I came into my room last night and nearly cried, because this was the kindest thing that anybody could have done for me, and I had needed it, and I truly remembered that we're never simply forgotten.