How lucky we are

I've been trying to decide whether to write about this or not, but since I don't name names or places in this blog, I think it will be okay.

Here goes ...

I was crying when I pulled into the parking lot at work today. It had nothing to do with me or my family or my job. But I just couldn't let it go.

When I dropped Biscuit off at day care this morning, I sensed tension even as I walked into the lobby. The summer campers were lining up to get on the bus for their field trip, and the chaperones seemed to be hurrying them along.

Biscuit and I shimmied through the crowd of kids and started down the main hallway. That's when I saw a teacher holding a 4-year-old around his chest. She had his arms pinned down in a bear hug. I honestly thought they were playing at first, but as I looked farther down the hall at another teacher, I knew something was wrong.

Biscuit and I made our way past the 4-year-old and the first teacher. I looked at the second teacher, who looked very upset.

"Are you okay?" I asked her.

She said the little boy had flipped over a table, which hit a chair, which hit her leg. I wasn't trying to be nosy, but she usually smiles and says "good morning" to Biscuit and me, and right then, she looked like she might cry. Apparently, the incident wasn't the first serious problem they'd had with this little boy, and for the safety of the other children, they were going to have to expel him.

I stood beside her for a minute while we watched the first teacher still holding the boy. He finally calmed down, and she sent him to the bathroom to wash his face.

"What's it like for him at home?" I asked the second teacher.

She looked at me and just shook her head. "It's a mess," she said.

I told her I was sorry and that I hoped her day got better, but what I really wanted to do was grab that little boy and run far away. He's 4 years old. FOUR YEARS OLD! What has he seen and experienced and heard in four years that could cause such anger issues in him?

A couple of weeks ago, I got to day care, and Biscuit's teacher told me that he had struggled with keeping his hands to himself that day. I asked for a more direct translation of her statement, and she told me that he had hit one of his little friends.

"Did you hit one of your friends?" I asked him. He nodded his head. "What happened when you hit her?"

"Um, she cried," Biscuit said while frowning and looking at the floor.

"Do you think she was sad?" I asked him. "Do you think it hurt when you hit her?"

"Yeaaaaaah," Biscuit said as he started to cry. He knew that it was wrong for him to hit his friend, and he felt bad about it.

But this other little boy, does he have anyone helping him learn right and wrong? Does he have anyone explaining the consequences of his actions and how they affect other people? Does he have somebody telling him that he's loved and that he's a worthwhile and valuable person?

We're so very lucky that with the support of our family and friends, Biscuit should have a fighting chance out in the world. He's a smart little boy. He's personable. He has so many people who love him and want to see him succeed.

But what about that other little boy?

So that's why I was crying when I got to work.

I felt kinda dumb about it because it doesn't have anything to do with me. Part of it was that I wanted to fix things for that little boy. Part of it was that I felt guilty and maybe not quite worthy of the great life I have. Part of it was that if this little boy has this many problems now, what kind of future can he possibly have?

I called Mama this morning to tell her what had happened. She was a receptionist at a high school, so I knew she'd understand. She had told me before that she would see kids who were smart and funny and loving, but they never learned how to deal with anger or frustration. Or they came from abusive homes. Or they just weren't loved like they should've been. She said it always hurt her because there was nothing she could do about it.

But she DID do something about it. She loved them. And she talked to them. And she showed an interest in them as people.

Today was the first day I had ever seen that little boy. And I guess I won't see him again. But I hope that someone somewhere sometime can make a difference for him.

And now, I'm going to hug my son!