Laura, our regular SP, followed with Nick a moment later. "I can see why you say people fall in love with him. He's such a joy."
They were seeing the Nick I see, the Nick so many people have, unfortunately, missed out on.
*********
Last year, in the aftermath of the teacher-abuse incident, the school started sending home daily reports on Nick's day. The forms listed out what he ate, how he focused, when he went to the bathroom . . . and how he behaved. The school tracked every scream, every bite, every scratch, and every time he hurt himself with tick marks on the page. Every day the tick marks were sent home, with comments like "He threw himself to the floor and screamed for no reason" (grr, there is *always* a reason) or "Nick got very upset when we tried to bring him into the classroom and scratched an aide." Perhaps I would've scratched people when they tried to take me back into places where I'd been hurt, too.
But here are some of the notes from Nick's teacher this year:
8/12: "He was very happy and smiling."
8/16: "Good day today. He transitioned well."
8/17: "Good day! Nicholas transitioned very well."
8/18: "Nicholas had a great day today! He is really starting to understand the routine of the day. He is participating in calendar and has done well during math and reading."
8/22: "Nicholas had a great day today. He is doing great during transitions, is smiling more, and participating more as well."
8/23: "Nicholas had a good day today. Did well with transitions today :)"
8/24: "Nicholas had a really good day again today! Nicholas has been doing so well transitioning. He is participating every day at calendar and is doing work at math and writing time. He is still really enjoying tinker toys and playing in the sand."
8/25: "Nicholas had another great day today! He is talking more and seems very happy at school."
He seems very happy at school. That's a sentence I'd never seen, never thought was imaginable.
*********
The proof, though, is in the pudding . . . otherwise known as the squishy part of my arm. It's where Nick takes out all of his frustrations, all of his confusions, all of his fears. When the world has him freaking out, he needs an immediate outlet for all the tension inside, and that outlet is often in the form of an ungodly sharp pinch. My arms were a watercolor of purple, green, magenta, blue.
On the first day of the semester I prepped for it, as always. I pulled together an outfit that would've made Stacey and Clinton proud--fantastic black heels, stylish grey trousers with red and light grey pinstripes, a delightful ruffled red blouse, and of course, a jacket--a grey Anne Klein blazer that I got for under $20! As I drove to campus, I wondered about how often I'd have to take the blazer on and off to get through the day. I mean, my classrooms were in different buildings on campus, and I didn't think I'd want to wear a jacket outside in the 113-degree heat, and some of the classrooms have crappy AC . . .
I looked down to check the damage to see if it was mild enough that a little concealer could mask it if I had to go jacketless during a class, and I was shocked.
There wasn't a bruise. Anywhere.
Sometimes as parents our guts tell us exactly what we need to do for our children, and although something inside us knows, absolutely knows it's the best thing, our minds tend to come in with their sneaking suspicions--what if uprooting the boys is the wrong thing to do? what if this new city won't be as wonderful as I think it will be? But always, it seems, we find in the end that our gut was right all along.
Moving the boys to Phoenix is the best thing I've ever done for them. They are happy, successful, content in ways they never have been before. That's not to say that they don't have bad days--believe me, there have been a couple--but the good is so much better that it has ever been and the bad is dramatically less frequent.
Finally, the world gets to know the happy, sweet Nick I know . . . and I get to go sleeveless to work ;)
