About A Boy

(Published on my Wordpress blog on June 15th, 2014).

Last Friday, I started the day out on a rather melancholy note. My son, my second and youngest child, would be graduating from grade six that evening and, while a part of me acknowledged that I had paid my elementary school years dues and that it was time to move on to the next chapter, I couldn’t help but feel like I was mourning the loss of something important. I cried as I wrote one last permission slip to the school’s secretary and went to work with a heavy heart.

My son has had a rough year. He’s an eccentric little man who was diagnosed with ADHD a few years ago and who often struggles with people getting frustrated with him when he can’t hear them out of his one deaf ear and who is misunderstood by the plumb on a regular basis. Every morning, when he gets to school, he reports to the office, where he is given his daily dose of Concerta.

After years of being teased and bullied by his peers, this was the year Ian Jakob finally made friends and even found himself interacting with the popular crowd. For a few months, we all go to feel as though Ian was finally out of the woods. Then, Ian came one home one day with a story that had my eyebrows shooting upward and my jaw aiming at the floor.

My son had recently acquired what was to become his favourite jacket, a tweed number with suede elbow patches. He decided to wear this to school, accessorizing with black suspenders and a flat cap. The teacher in question kicked off the day by informing my son that is what Halloween. She asked him what his problem was and proceeded to call him “Mr. Suspenders,” for the rest of the day. The school was between principals so I went straight to the source and wrote this woman a letter. I was polite but there was no room for second guessing. My son has a name and it’s not “Mr. Suspenders.” I’m aware that the school has a dress code and, if you have issues with my son not adhering to it, then let me know but make it about that and not about his personal style and certainly not in front of the entire class, please and thank you. At lunchtime, I received a call from an infuriated woman who demanded to know what my problem with her was. I asked her how my letter failed to illustrate my point, to which she said, “Right. The letter. Real nice. You know, I can’t believe you would send me something like that!” I calmly told her that she had made such a letter necessary and then, for a good twenty minutes, I proceeded to talk to what felt like an angry bag of rocks. She threw fallacy after fallacy at me as I stood my ground and waited for her to exhaust herself. She told me the skull-print bandana Ian wore to school as a scarf was inappropriate. “How so?” I asked, before launching into a brief summary of punk rock fashion but, knowing this would be lost on her, finishing it off with Alexander McQueen, Lady Gaga, Ardène and, of course, the bullshit exhibit at the Met. We ended the conversation with me making it quite clear that she was not to belittle of mock my child again before she basically hung up on me.

Last month, my son and I were out running errands when he casually told me about his afternoon. For some reason or another, the same teacher had some kids look up “The World’s Ugliest Woman” before displaying Lizze Valesquez’ photo on the Smart Board for all to see. The teacher proceeded to jeer at Lizzie, while the kids in the classroom laughed. Ian was incredulous and, on the verge of tears, he spoke out. “Miss! Why are you doing this?! This isn’t funny! She almost killed herself over this! Please! She did a Ted Talk! Please show that instead! Miss, she was born this way!” His teacher turned to him and said, “Whatever Ian. There’s surgery for people like her.”

It was at that point in the story that I decided that this woman probably shouldn’t be teaching children and shaping the minds of the future and that she was most certainly done teaching my kid. But there’s more. Later on that day, she was writing math answers on the board and she got one wrong. Several kids spoke up and tried to tell her they had the right answer in the text book. Ian offered her an out by saying, “Miss, maybe you’re doing this to see to see if we’re paying attention?” I don’t know but, if I as wrong in front of twenty-something kids, I would at least contemplate going with that. Instead, she started screaming at Ian, again, and threw in “By the way you have paint on your face and you look like a fool!” Well, that shut him up. On his way out of the room, he felt the teacher grab his arm as she hissed, ‘You’d better not tell your mother about this one.”

I found all of this out on a Thursday. Learning from my own past, I decided to not react right away. I think a part of me was also in shock. The next day, after school, when Ian would have the week-end off, I wrote to the new acting principal and informed her that Ian was not to be taught by this woman again and that the school should maybe look into the kind of people they are hiring. I called the school board and alerted them. I didn’t care if Ian was to spend the rest of the school year at the office, as long as this woman never addressed him again, formally or otherwise. I asked that the school reprimand her and that the class be shown the Ted Talk so that the kids could maybe be lead to understand that this kind of teasing scars. With everything we know about bullying and its effects, I cannot believe that this woman was not hauled out of there immediately. Some students saw the teacher cry in the halls and then she was gone for half a day. That’s it. The worst thing is that my son felt bad for her, even after one of her peers got angry at Ian for this whole thing.

Luckily for her, it was only after this whole saga that I found about another incident that a friend of my son's had told his parents about because it had really angered him. Ian's teacher once asked him why he's so hyper. He said, "Because I have ADHD." Her response? "And I have ABCD. Now, sit down and shut up."

Despite the hardships my son has faced, he has always kept an open mind and heart. He constantly helped out younger kids and even managed to console a crying kindergartener who arrived at their school midyear. He took her hand and explained that he was that kid, not too long ago, and that, before she knew it, she would be in grade six and know every nook and cranny of the seemingly enormous school. He had her giggling and skipping off to class with him in a manner of minutes. He’s the kid who shares whatever he has with those who have less. He’s the kid whose love shines so brightly that almost everyone I’ve introduced him to has been charmed on the spot. No matter how much the kids at school, his big sister and his “teacher” have shunned and mocked him, he still wakes up every day and sees the good in the world, embraces it and loves unconditionally.

One of Ian’s friends could not graduate with her friends, as her family had to move to Texas the day before. He got some people together and talked to the teachers and, during one of the grad rehearsals, they surprised her and told her this was her actual grad. There were balloons and Ian had made a card. A bunch of them cried hard and hugged. The girl thanked Ian and told him she will never forget this and she probably won’t.

When the principal called some kids from Ian’s class in to talk about the Lizzie incident, some of them left feeling terrible for having mocked Lizzie. They had simply not known better and now they did and, to Ian, this was the best possible outcome because he could see the whole world changing, one person at a time.

At is grad ceremony, last Friday, I fidgeted on the church pew and bit my lip as award after award was given out. When they announced an award for community service in the school and another for the same outside of the school and when the principal mentioned an award for kids having succeeded despite what they called “impossible” odds and then gave out another for leadership and one for a kid who can really envision the future and go for it, my heart broke because Ian’s name was never called out. This kid managed to speak out against injustice and stand up for women and all who get bullied, despite having been bullied and taunted, himself, and he was to receive not one ounce of recognition for it. I was not pleased.

After the ceremony, the dinner, the dance and the trip down to the local Dairy Queen were all over, I walked alongside Ian and asked him if he was bummed out because he didn’t get any awards. He looked at me, confused for a moment, and said, “No, Mom. It’s okay. I’m just glad we had fun and that those other kids got awards. I don’t need one. It’s okay, Mom.” My eyes welled up, as I realized that, even now, he was looking out for someone else. He was consoling me because I was upset that he had not won anything. I realized how silly I was being and how ridiculous I had been all day. There was no reason to be sad or even melancholy but all of the reasons to be joyous and to celebrate. Ian Jakob handled this chapter of his life like a pro and I’m sure he’ll do just as well with the next. He brought light and love to the lives of several, while in elementary school, and that’s not something everyone is gifted with being able to do, no matter what the stage in life. I am blessed to me able to call myself Ian Jakob’s mom and I couldn’t be any more proud of the little man that he is. Carpe that diem, buddy, and keep living out loud!

Ian Jakob

Posted in: bullying,english montreal school board,lizzy valasquez,parenting,rosyln school,shaming,westmount