who ever said that I claimed to be in my right mind?

Got to school early today, about an hour before my kids would arrive. This morning, besides getting my math lesson prepared, I had getting some IEP reports written at the top of my agenda. As you know, I like to write, so I don’t really hate doing reports. I had my iPod prepped to the playlist I was going to use (Writer’s Muse) and turned my computer on. As always, the first thing I do is check email and voice mail.
No new urgent emails.
One new voice message:
My son brought home a huge chunk of glass and said you gave it to him. I have a hard time believing this, as I can’t see how a teacher in his right mind would give his students a hunk of glass that could be a weapon that could be used to throw through my head or the heads of my other kids. Call me back on my cell phone as soon as you get this.
(all this said in a rather loud, aggressive, sarcastic, and superior tone, a tone I respond so well too…….)
In short, it is over an hour before I am calm enough to be able to talk to my students, and the reports were not thought of again the rest of the day. Thank goodness I get to school early.
So, why did this teacher give his students a hunk of glass? Well, here’s the deal. As you may have read, Chad and I went to San Diego over Spring Break. While we were there, we took a little excursion to Sea World. The kids had asked me to bring them something back, as they knew I was going to California (we all shared our Spring Break plans). I intentionally waited until we went to Sea World to purchase a keepsake to bring back to my kids, because one of my kids (the one that has been the biggest challenge this year, and the one that was mentioned in the message I got) is obsessed with fish and things in the ocean (an obsession I can understand—where do mermaids live?). I purchase twelve of those 4x2x2 inch glass blocks that have the 3D images lasered into it. I got half killer whales and half a polar bear mother and cub. They were about six dollars a piece. I thought about getting them a pencil or some candy. But, I wanted get them something cool that wasn’t too expensive and that they could keep a long time. Maybe something they could look back and say, ‘Wow, that was neat. I bet that teacher really cared about me.’
How silly of me.
When I worked at the residential treatment center, on more than one occasion, I had parents call or come in and verbally assault me because I took away TV privileges from their child for the weekend. They would ask if I realized what all their child had been through. They would remind me that their child had been raped, physically and verbally and emotionally abused. They would ask me how heartless I was to treat their poor child in such an atrocious manner.
The thing that was never spoken.
The thing that we both knew?
They were the one that had raped or molested their child or sold their child as a prostitute so they could buy drugs. They were the one who had beaten, starved, or left their child in the desert. They were the one who forced their child to walk on glass barefoot. They were the ones who would scream at their child that they were worthless, evil, should have been aborted, and should never been born.