I know it has been anything but simple. I know she has interrupted you constantly, run away from you often, scared you when she bolted into hallways and the parking lot, actually physically hurt you on several occasions, used words and actions which made you intake a breath and try not to react. I know you struggled for 350 days over her pre-k and kindergarten years to try to get her to interact appropriately with her peers. I know when she screamed shocking things in a hallway full of five year olds that you cringed, and felt horrible about all of it - their exposure to this rage from a kindergartener, and her astonishing, almost unbelievable, deep-seated anger.
Working with someone who has been so affected by early childhood trauma is stressful and exhausting and maddening.
I know.
And now she's headed elsewhere, for different teachers to try to help and educate, and I'm sad about that. But not because I think she should've been able to stay in your school. I know her behaviors are more than can be managed there. I'm sad because I know you were trying, and I know she will miss you, even though she often acted like she couldn't stand to be around you.
But that wasn't it. Not really. She can barely stand to be around any activity, or more than one person at a time, or unusual smells, or bizarre sounds, or people moving rapidly in many directions, or loud speakers, or cafeterias, or frankly, often, even herself.
So it was never you. But you stood next to her through all of that as her teacher or as her ed technician, or as the administrative assistant in the office she'd been taken to yet again, or as the principal ultimately needing to do something about the situation she was creating - so you got all of that anger and stress directed right at you.
I hope it didn't feel personal.
It feels personal to me sometimes, but believe me, it isn't.
She talks about you all ALL of the time. She knows what each of you has said to her that made her feel accepted, even briefly, and special. She knows which pictures you each helped her draw, she knows what songs you listened to with her at school on your phone or on an ipad, and she can recall things you told her about your pets and your families many months ago.
She will sincerely miss you.
So thank you for all of your incredible patience, and all of those held breaths, and so much hard work.
Thank you for opening the door the next day, and smiling, despite what she said to you the day before.
Thank you for telling her she could choose to do it differently in the next hour or after lunch or the next day.
Thank you for texting me pictures of good moments and for sandwiching tough information between gentler thoughts.
Thank you for helping us raise this complicated, small person for 6.5 hours of 350 days.
Thank you for trying.
I'm sad she has to go.
But thank you so much, for everything you did while she was with you.
♡