whiteshrtgrl

Pinball

What do you think it feels like to sit next to your child’s dealer? Yes – drug dealer. What do you think (in this case he) looks like? What do you think his family looks like? How do you think you would feel? Could you say anything….anything at all?

Today I attended YAP – the Youth Addictions Program at one of the local hospitals. We were led by a lady on the 6th floor of the old nurses residence, into a tiny little over heated room.

In the room were 8 chairs, partly filled by a few teens and their parents. One boy was a stereotypical anti social type with pale, unhealthy skin, sweatpants and a hoodie, and shaggy bangs that fell over his eyes. If he tipped his head forward just a bit, they would hang so he didn’t have to make eye contact. There was a girl in the room with her mom. She looked more like the type who had been caught using and was being forced to attend. Her legs were covered with large, dark purple lesions that had been picked at. Her mom sat next to her, arms folded, not saying a word.

We entered the room and picked chairs right across from the lady in charge. We all sat quietly, waiting for the orientation to start. Finally, 3 more people entered the room. The boy was tall, clean cut, dressed in pants, a tshirts and a baseball hat. The mom looked very familiar to me, however I couldn’t place where I had seen her before, and I didn’t recognize the dad. The parents picked the 2 chairs furthest to the left, leaving one seat open for their son next to me.

“That’s him”
“That’s who?”
“Him. The guy I bought stuff from.”
“What? You mean the kid next to me?”
She nodded her head yes.

I could feel my eyes get big, and my eyebrows touch my hairline.
“Don’t look. Man – I swear I know his mom. Don’t look. This is awkward. I don’t even know what to think. What do I do? This is weird. Seriously….where have I seen her?”

The orientation began, and the nurse gave us some handouts and began to talk a little about the program.

– 85 kids are part of this program at any given time.
– 325 people are in the adult program – it has a 5 to 6 month waiting list. Be thankful you’re not waiting for that one.
– The program is our cities best kept secret for substance abusers, sex addicts, and gaming/Internet addicts

Then came some hard facts.

All Cocaine in our city and area has been cut with a drug used for livestock for the last 4 years. In humans it causes a decreased white blood cell count and lowered immune system.

Opiates like Fentanyl are 10 times stronger than morphine and are popular because they’re only $20 a hit. Problem is, there’s no way to tell what the concentration is and what else is involved.

W12. That’s the new one. Even more dangerous than Fentanyl.

If you are on Opiates we will give you an antidote kit for free.

She continued to go through some stats and facts about the program and continued to ask if we had questions.

The more she talked, the more my head felt like a pinball machine in the bonus round. Ping, ping, ping ping, ping. Lights going off everywhere in my head as events over the last year began to make sense.

“OMG. I know where I know her from. She’s an urgent care nurse. She’s taken care of us before. I wonder if she recognizes me? This is really awkward. Just look at the floor. I’m sure she doesn’t even know I’m here.”

Who was I kidding. There were only 10 people in the room. Of course she could see me!

What does it feel like to sit next to your kids dealer? I felt nothing. Nothing at all. I just know that if I would have seen this kid anywhere, I never would have guessed. I would have thought I’d feel some kind of emotion, but truly. Just blank.

The kids were given a form. “It’s your choice. You have to want to participate. Fill in the circle if it’s a yes. Fill in the triangle if you’re not sure. Fill in the square if it’s a no.” The kids filled out the forms and turned them in face down. “If your child filled in the circle, I will call you Monday to set up a 4 hour assessment. This is their choice – not yours. Thank you for coming. Be safe. ”

“She was our nurse once, wasn’t she?”
“Yeah. Funny thing was when you weren’t there, she told me I should tell you. She’d want to know if I was her kid.”

I stopped in my tracks foe a moment. So strange. So very strange. I don’t even know what to think.

If you think someone you know may be using and needs help, here’s a few things to look for:
– flick lighters for no apparent reason
– unexplainable erratic behavior
– run down, low immune system
– unable to sleep without meds
– lack of concentration
– frequently being late or more social than normal – or even the opposite
– bruised knuckles, wrists, ankles
– unusual appetite
– sudden stopping of other self harm or damaging behaviors
– thin skin, unusual blemishes or picked at skin
– emotional over compensation
– sneaking out

Even if you have a doubt, and you’re scared your kid might be involved in something scary, reach out. Get help. Ask questions and if someone says they have questionable information, don’t take it personally. Addictions are a symptom and dont make ypu or anyone a bad person. Time for a root cause analysis.

June 3, 2016 0

Whipits

Just when you think you’ve seen it all, another thing comes along that blows your mind. In this case – literally.

“This is what we confiscated.”
“Really? ”
“9 large cans spray paint. 1 glass elephant. 1 plastic dish. 1 professional whipped cream cannister. 1 charge holder. Flick lighters – 2 in all.”
“Oooooo-kay. You took that off both girls?”
“Yes, they said they were using the cannister to blow up balloons, but we found no balloons.”
“What would they be used for otherwise?”

What are whip cream cannisters used for? I’m talking about the professional, make your own siphon kit that uses the little charge cartridges. They usually sell for $150+ in cooking stores, and the cartridges sell for between $1- $4 each.

Are you sitting down? Load up to 3 cartridges in an empty siphon, put the tip to your mouth, spray and inhale. I’m told the high is intense and immediate, and more addictive to meth. The danger is unbelievable and results in dead brain cells, permanent brain damage, and potentially – death. This is what they’re doing.

Don’t fool yourself. I know I have. “Not my kid.” “Thank goodness my kid isn’t in to that!” “You’d have to be stupid to try that. My kid knows better.”

Drug addiction is a scary thing. There is really no way to know your kids are doing it until they’re in pretty deep. Google whipped cream, or whipits. What do you see first?

Another thing to watch for is Dust off. Easier to get, less suspicious, more intense high, and again – horribly addictive. In case you don’t know, dust off is the stuff you spray on your computer to clean it out.

“Haven’t you ever heard of that mom? Seriously! Where have you been living?!”

“In a dark closet I guess………”

I used to judge kids, people, anyone who did drugs. I did – and that’s sucks, because now I know how it feels to be on the other side.

I never smoked anything. Didn’t drink anything of any consequence. I didn’t party either. I guess food was my vice, but that’s a different story.

My kids are good kids. They have amazing hearts, huge dreams and ambitions with desires to make a real difference. They weren’t raised on the streets, or abandoned and left on their own. They didn’t have to live in a shelter or a foster home, or a car or anywhere else that wasn’t deemed normal. They went to the dentist, the doctor, to school, and on holidays like any other kids did. They rode bikes, sang songs, drew pictures and played outside until I made them come in to bed.

For one reason or another (that I’m not prepared to share), something strong enough happened that created a pain I couldn’t fix.

I truly can’t even let my mind wander to what the possibilities could have been. Anorexia. Self harm. Suicide. Depression. Anxiety. Drugs. They all fit together……

Ask questions. Know where and what your kids are doing. Know their friends, and listen when someone tries to tell you something you don’t want to hear. At least investigate a little. You owe your kids and yourself that.

Do you believe in Angel’s? If I didn’t before, I sure do now.

May 31, 2016 0

Moral vs. Legal

Your child is complaining of feeling very sick. Their behavior is irrational, they’re sweaty, seem to be in pain, and want to go to the Dr. “Really? It’s that bad? Ok – let’s go”, you say. Fear of flu, appendicitis, kidney, bladder, or other infections run through your mind. In the car and off you go in search of answers.

You head in to your local health provider – perhaps a walk in or urgent care – and before you know it it’s your turn to be seen.

Then it happens. The Dr enters the room and asks you to leave. Really? “Don’t you want some history? Don’t I need to answer questions? Isn’t there an age that I’m responsible for what’s going on here?”

The lines of what is and what isn’t allowed at different ages is so confusing. 18 is the legal age….but of what?

I’ve done a little research on this subject lately. Maybe it’s because I’m angry, and maybe it’s because I feel guilty, but once and for all I want to get it straight.

The age of majority is when your are deemed to be an adult. Legal age is when you are able to drink or make legal decisions. Age of consent is where it gets ridiculous.

A 12 or 13 year old can have sex with a 12 or 13 year old, as long as there’s not more than 2 years between. A 14 or 15 can consent to someone under 5 years difference. A 16 or 17 year old, you can have sex with 18 or older as long as they’re not dependant on them.

Ok, seriously? At 12 or 13 years old you can decide to have sex? And 18 is alcohol? I just don’t get it.

So your “child” is now speaking privately with a Dr. No biggie – how bad could it be? I was just strapping them in to a high chair a short time ago. What could they say?

Then the Dr leaves the room, consults with a different Dr, and go in to another room together Hands are waving, shoulders shrug, and a book comes out that they’re both looking at. They look at me through the glass, then eachother and the attending Dr comes back out.

“Hmmmmm. This is odd. Shouldn’t they be talking to me?”

Apparently not. They don’t have to tell me anything. I understand the health system wants to encourage kids to get help with put fear, but at what point do patents get to know what’s really going on. One Dr says “I’d want to know.” The other says “legally we can’t “.

Do you know what’s going on with your kids? How would you know if they’re sexually active, doing drugs, drinking, or involved in any other dangerous activity?

I have yet to find something that says a Dr can’t tell me what’s going on if my child requests that. Maybe it’s out there, but it seems so unreasonable. As parents we’re on the hook to provide and yet we walk forward blind folded.

I know we don’t want to know every single thing, and I also know I would never tell every single thing. Would things have been different if I’d have been told?

Legal vs Moral. Which one is right?

May 13, 2016 0

Poker Face

If I had a dollar, for every blog and post that ran through my mind every day, I wouldn’t have to ever think about working again. There is so much to say, and so much to share – it just never ends.

How do I explain how I got to where I am today? I’m not talking about simple driving directions, I’m talking about all the roads, paths and decisions taken along the way that brought me, and my kids, to where I am today.

The room where I’m at right now is very quiet. I’m sitting on a lime green retro type couch, leaning against a bright yellow wall as a back rest. The fluorescent lights are really unforgiving, and reflect off the abstract purple art on the walls. Typing on my phone is a little challenging because I’m squinting from the glare.

All I really hear right now is the constant hum in my ears that never goes away. My body feels fine, but my eyes are incredibly heavy and even burn a little from being dry.

I feel numb right now. It’s the first time in awhile that I can’t even think. I don’t know what to say, and I definitely don’t even really know how I feel. Maybe I’m in shock? Is this how that would feel?

I was in a session with my daughter, listening to questions on upcoming medical tests that need to be completed. When you’re living a dangerous lifestyle, I guess you know about these things. When I was her age, I didn’t even know what those words meant.

I always pick the chair facing the professional but a little behind the others in these meetings, because although I’ve trained myself not to react, sometimes a surprising expression comes across my face and gives way to what I’m really feeling or thinking. I could hear something and look completely neutral, and yet on the inside I’m shrieking “OMG!”.

I was asked to leave this meeting, once again. It doesn’t even bother me anymore. I get that people need privacy – even I wouldn’t feel comfortable with sharing in front of everyone.

Random thoughts run through my head while I wait. “Forgot my water bottle – I’m thirsty. Dull headache. …sigh…. This is taking longer than I thought. Hey, I can cross my legs – that’s cool. Is my double chin showing? (Inconspicuous chin scratch just to check – yup, still there). Almost dinner time. Why do we have to cook anyways? I wish subs didnt have bread and were free. Why is this taking so long? ”

I’m not sure if there’s a whole lot more we can experience at this point. Is this rock bottom? I’m being asked how I am, and what I’m doing for myself, and I really don’t have an answer for that.

What’s the point of this post? Perhaps there doesn’t need to be a point. I think sometimes I need to write to remind myself I’m still here. I’m alive. My kids are alive. It’s ok to feel nothing – it won’t always be this way.

We’ll be alright.

May 11, 2016 0

Hats On

Comfy jeans. Sandals? Definitely. New cream laced top. Beaded bracelet. Dark lipstick? Nah, perhaps light. Nope – dark it is. Oils – hmmmm. Hope, Joy, Clarity, Abundance, Bergamot, and maybe a little more Hope – I’ll need it today. Jean jacket, keys, purse, and my hat.

There couldn’t be a more appropriate day to wear a hat. Don’t get me wrong, I love hats, however there’s a little more meaning to the one I’m wearing today.

Originally, I had planned on being at work. My whole team would be wearing hats in support of Mental Health, and just having a great day. Then, after a really bad hairdo, I had another reason to be supportive. Nothing like covering up an expensive mistake with something that means so much. We’d finish off the day with a bite in support of the Ronald McDonald house, support charity, and reflect on how far we’ve come.

My plans changed. Today, I will wear my hat as I walk hand in hand in to the Youth Substance Abuse and Addiction center. That’s right. I said it. I’m not sure if this is rock bottom, but in a way it sure feels like it. I’d say the bottom of a bucket, but with a strange warm light there too.

How did we get here? What happened? How could I have been so blind? I should have known. Not been so trusting, and not taken the stories as truth. How on earth did I miss this?

How do you look someone in the face you love so much, wanting to believe what is being said, and yet tell yourself, “It’s not true. You can’t trust her. She’ll do anything to deceive you.”? I really don’t have the answer to that, because I don’t know if I’m capable of that.

“Hi, mom?”
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m overwhelmed. I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired of the lies. I’m tired of being so very sad. Can you come get me?”
“Of course. I’ll be right there”.

My mind was racing at that point, but not the same way it used to. We pulled up to the house and there she was, teddy bear in hand, tears strolling down her face, standing at the end of the drive way.

“We need to go to the hospital. I’ll explain on the way.”

“Really? The hospital? Are you ok?”

“I don’t know. I need help”.

Over the next few hours, and days, stories flooded out, bringing a whole year and a half of struggle in to clear view. Shock. Confusion. Bewilderment.

I can say this. There must be an army of angels watching over our kids, because it’s only by a miracle that I’m able to actually go with her to get help today. It’s a miracle she’s alive.

My hat is on. My brain is numb. I’m not even sure what is next. The most important thing is that this time, she is the one asking, and actually begging for help.

No fight. No argument. No complaints today. I didn’t even have to wake her up. Perhaps this is a sign. Perhaps, this time she’s ready.

A little more Hope, behind the ears, on my heart, solar plexus…. here we go.

Will you wear a hat today?

May 4, 2016 0

The D Word

Recently, I talked to some teens and younger kids, even adults and coworkers, and asked them this question: Of all the words you hear from your parents, guardians, or care givers – perhaps a girl/boy friend, hero or mentor, which one affects you the most? Which word cuts deep and brings you stress, anxiety or pain? A word that you never want to hear or experience? Just one word?

Do you think you know what that word is? It begins with a “D”. This word is so powerful, that once in a family discussion, all of my kids said I was actually not to ever use it, and threatened massive anxiety attacks and pain from the mere mention of it. One of my kids said that when I had used it once, it had changed his life and path forever.

Is there really one word that can change this generations entire path in life? So strong that it can reduce someone to harmful thoughts and distress? Well, I’m telling you there is.

Disappointment. A very simple word that carries a tremendous amount of power.

I remember the moment I used that word with my son. We were having a conversation last week and I asked him what made him change his mind, and make different decisions? “Mom, you told me you were disappointed in me. I couldn’t deal with that, and never wanted to see the hurt in your face again. I knew what I had done was wrong, but when I saw your face and heard that word, that was it.”

I was surprised. How often do we sit with our friends and discuss how on earth do we get through to people? I had made an impact that I never even knew till 3 years later.

Today, once again I’m Disappointed. Truly – with a capital “D”.

I’m disappointed that no matter how hard we try as parents, our kids don’t seem to trust us. I’m disappointed that I can be asked to leave a room so officials can speak to my teen because of privacy. Seems like when my parenting comes in to question everyone will know, but when they’re behavior comes in to question we can only know minimal details, if any.

I’m didappointed that I can take my child to a health care professional for help, that I pay for everything they need to recover, spend time away from my life to deal with their issues, and yet important information, that could waste my time and cause me deep humiliation – even turn me in to a liar, is not released until it becomes life threatening.

I feel I’m a very empathetic person, but it hurts me that no matter how hard I try, I’m blind sided with information over and over again, that should have been shared at the beginning, not sprung on me in the 13th hour.

We entrust our loved ones to professionals that use deception as part of their course of treatment. I have to sign a group field trip permission form for school and give consent to eat lunch in a different spot, but at the age of 12 my child can walk in to any health care facility and be treated for something I have no idea about. To make matters worse, when I rush in to see what’s going on, they all look at me and say nothing, leaving me to find out accidentally.

I don’t believe people want to do bad stuff at all. Assume positive intent – that’s my motto day in, and day out. However, I find that when presented with opportunity that wouldn’t normally be there, they make a split decision that does not actually represent the character of who they are. Most people don’t set out to rob a bank today. They’re presented with an opportunity and make a bad decision that usually has pretty strong consequences, and then funny enough, are surprised when they’re caught.

Why do I have to sign a consent form under 16 for a tattoo, but my child can enter a craft store, buy a stick and poke, tattoo themselves, and end up needing tests for infection, HEP and who know what else?! Why can a 15 year old enter a huff and puff store, buy vaporizers, pipes, and other paraphernalia and yet its illegal for them to obtain the substances the tools are used for? Yet somehow…….some way…..they do.

“D”.

Deceit.

Double-standard.

Doubt.

Deterioration.

Disappointment.

February 19, 2016 0

Dear Sir(s)

c.c. MLA, School Superintendent, School Trustee, District School Advocate
b.c.c. Step-dad

I’m am writing to you today about my daughter, that is currently enrolled in High School. We are having some issues, and I’d like to give you a bit of background before I ask any questions.

My daughter is 14 years old, currently enrolled in Grade 9. About half way through grade 7, she started to develop chronic stomach pain, and began missing a lot of school. In total, she missed approx. 49 days of the last half of the year – so pretty much all of it. Unknowingly to me, she had developed anorexia, and was suffering from bullying at school. In September of grade 8, she texted her cousin and said this would be her last day. She went to school to say goodbye to her friends, but ended up having a type of nervous breakdown as her brain couldn’t handle the reality of what she had planned. She was taken by ambulance to Alberta Children’s Hospital, where she stayed and received treatment for just over 5 months. I didn’t find out about some other things till January, but once I did, I immediately took action.

My daughter worked incredibly hard to overcome the many issues she was suffering from . While in hospital, she attempted suicide 5 times, was involved in self harm, and her anorexia got worse. Once deeper treatment started, things started to turn around and she rapidly began to improve.

Once hospital was done, she transitioned to ADTP, where she completed 4.5 months of extreme psychotherapy, as well as school classes to complete the core subjects of grade 8. Once she graduated ADTP, she was transitioned to an out patient at YCuSP, where she is still receiving trauma treatment. She has gone through full testing through the specialists at YCuSP, and was found to be “gifted” in many areas, and above average in all the others. Other students averages are her lowest scores. Her diagnoses are: Extreme Anxiety disorder, PTSD, OCD, ADD, and Anorexia with binge/purge tendencies.

Currently, she is at a healthy weight, no longer self harms, is not suicidal, and is bright and optimistic about her future.

Last May she began to transition to high school. The VP was dedicated to her success, and made every effort to help her and make a plan. He assured us that no matter how difficult, the school was there for us and would be dedicated to her success, no matter what. She was given full access to the healing arts program, and the chat room was a great support for her. During the summer, she was tremendously excited to get back to “normal”, knowing there would be challenges, but understanding it would be a gradual transition.

September came, and she was nervous but also excited. She wore some old jeans and a plaid shirt so she wouldn’t bring extra attention to herself. These were kids she’d been with since preschool, and it felt a little weird for her to be back after missing almost 2 years of school.

She started taking a full course load, with flex class for extra help, a guidance counselor as a go to and the chat room for extra support. Unfortunately, there was a new VP as the former one had been moved. The drama teacher took special interest in her, and invited her to participate in his class daily, which took her away from flex. She absolutely loved drama and couldn’t quit talking about it. There wasn’t a single aspect of it that she wasn’t enthused about – but she was missing flex which was an issue. Quite quickly she started getting behind. The exhaustion of a full day of school left her overwhelmed and unable to handle the homework load. I asked the school for a meeting, and we talked strategy for success. Her support teacher made sure that she knew she was to be in flex, and that drama should not be a substitute. It came time for the school play and auditions, and she was elated. She knew her chances of getting a part as a grade 9 were slim, but practiced her audition piece tirelessly, and practiced lines with a friend as much as she could. She did her audition, and was very proud of herself.

Then it started.

The drama teacher posted the part list, and sure enough she didn’t get a part. Other grade 9’s got to work on sets, or lighting, but she was left completely crushed. She went to talk to the drama teacher, and he gave her no excuse. She begged to even mop the floors and clean up after, just to be at practice and watch, but he said no. We could not figure out why, as he took such interest, and then wanted nothing to do with her.

Meet the teacher night came, so I went in to the school to speak with the guidance teacher. My daughter had written a letter to advocate for herself, finished off a huge project, and went to him repeatedly to give her a chance but he just put her off. I waited 1.5 hours to talk to her guidance counselor, and when I did, I was completely shocked. She told me that the drama teacher had heard that my daughter was on drugs, and potentially dealing drugs and wanted nothing to do with her. He’d had a scare the year before with some students, and wanted nothing to do with her. She said her behavior was erratic, and made her think the same. Clearly, they had never seen a teen with her diagnoses.

I went home confused, and very worried, so I immediately called YCuSP to discuss the situation. We set up a meeting quite quickly with the school, in which myself, the team from YCuSP, teachers and administration, and eventually my daughter attended. Her practical nurse explained how not only had she passed every drug test – and she’s had many – but she has never even registered on one. A discussion was had between YCuSP asking why the school had never reached out to YCuSP, and there was no answer. Eventually, the VP asked my daughter to come in to the room, and was fairly insistent on pulling her from the FI program, and aggressively told her she had to start attending. No apology was ever given for the drug accusations, which unfortunately spread to many of the teachers, and other kids in the school.

She couldn’t do anything without someone being suspicious. Stories began to spread about her acquiring crack, that she was sleeping in bank vestibules on weekends, and how she must be using. When I asked for proof of any of this, the VP just said to me that kids had texts, but she had never seen them.

Eventually, my daughter became more and more disheartened, and got further and further behind. She was tremendously lonely, and the kids she had grown up with avoided her in class, hallways, and outdoors. She spoke to me about entering her English class, and being insulted by the teacher in front of everyone, or pointed out in another class how far behind she was, which was terribly embarrassing.

Shortly thereafter, the VP forbid her to use the chat room for support, saying it was only for successful kids that had their work done, even though they had never told her this. The room was presented to her as a support place, not as a place for successful kids. I remember walking in to the office, and seeing the vp with a huge box of smarties candy, and she told me “smartie day” was her favorite day, because she got to hand out treats to all the smart kids. This didn’t sit well with me either. My daughter was forced to sit in the classes, even though she was behind, and was not allowed to be in a separate situation. When I addressed this with administration, she had no answer as to why this was happening, but agreed it was being enforced.

At one point, the counselor, told my daughter that if she maybe changed her appearance and tried to blend in more, she would be more accepted and wouldn’t feel so alone. She came home crying that day. With the bridge burned with her counselor, with teachers and students giving her a hard time, and no support from administration, she would go to school, but sit in the library or hide in the bathroom to avoid feeling bullied and embarrassed.

Approximately 2.5 weeks ago, the school reached out to me to set up a meeting and talk about things. My daughter had made a plan with her science teacher, and was invited to come catch up at the school during exams. I arranged transportation for her every day, and she went to the school and worked. I did not consent to PAT’s, so it seemed like a great plan. On the Thursday of the first week of exams, she had gone to the school and was sitting in the chat room working. One of the school aids came to the class, and in front of the other kids, told her she had to leave the school immediately.

My daughter called me immediately and said they were making her leave the school, and could I come pick her up – she was crying and very upset. None of this made any sense to me, so I came from work as quickly as I could. I went in to the office towards the VP’s office, and she was standing outside of it and threw her hands up in the air when she saw me. They had been in a fighting match, and my daughter had used a swear word in the process, making her even angrier. I asked if we could sit down and talk, and she said no – that she had to run exams. Her support teacher was in one of the offices finishing a meeting, so I insisted we sit down and talk, rather than wait another 4 days.

I asked why we were asked to make these catch up arrangements and then was being asked to leave the school. The VP said she wasn’t done enough work to be at the school, and I argued that that was the reason why she was there. After going back and forth, we found out that administration and teachers had not communicated with each other, causing more embarrassment and stress.

They agreed that they felt my daughter was getting worse rather than better. She had lost her spark and the spring in her step and was acting more and more withdrawn. They told us they didn’t feel they could do anything for her, and that she wasn’t sick enough to attend YCuSP for school, but wasn’t able or ready to attend their school or any other school either. When they asked my daughter what she wanted, she cried and told them how much she hated it there. She described the treatment from teachers and administration as prejudicial and judgemental. She spoke to the fact that just because kids smoke, have pink hair, or dress differently doesn’t mean they’re bad people, and yet they’re harassed and treated as criminals. She was on a modified program that started later, however she was repeatedly confronted in the hallways accused of skipping class, when someone next to her that was a “good student” was not spoken to at all.

The VP suggested we go look at the Learning Center, and suggested she’d do better there. As we left the school, my daughter asked me if she had been expelled, and I answered, “I really don’t know. I don’t know if they can really do that?”

I’ve been to speak to the VP about the program at the learning center, and we’re both concerned it’s really not suited for her at this time of year. Grade 9 is treated as junior high in their program, and all classes are full year. They are also home based, self lead, with heavy reading and writing requirements. She would have to finish 4 core subjects in full within 4.5 months, basically on her own.

I have asked the VP to provide a letter giving reason why they can not accommodate my daughter, and why they have suggested somewhere else for her, but they are saying that this was all our idea. They have told us bridges have been burned, and the VP admitted that she looks at the “parking lot kids” as different. Her statement to us was that she’s an administrator, and when there’s a problem, she has to get rid of it.

The learning center asked me to write you an email, and explain the situation we’re in. Both of us agreed that it may not be the best choice. She needs some support, and to feel some success. She has stated how much she wants to succeed, to graduate, and to move on to post secondary education, but is terrified that no one will take her. if you spoke to her you would see that she’s a bright, well spoken young lady.

With other high schools not being a possibility for various reasons, our high school burning their bridges, and with the learning center not really being set up for grade 9’s, I am at a bit of a loss with what to do. My daughter desperately wants to be given a chance to succeed, but after 2 years out of the system, and the first half of grade 9 being disastrous, I need help to find what another alternative would be. I’m a single mom with no support, and definitely can’t home school – plus home school is definitely not recommended by her counselors and psychiatrist.

Right now we are in a state of limbo. My daughter does not feel welcome, and the paperwork has not yet been done to withdraw. I don’t feel I can honestly advocate for the learning center like the high school wants me to, as I don’t think it will set her up to be successful.

Can you please let us know what options are available for us? The high school has not helped or provided any other suggestions, and as time passes the situation gets more serious. I don’t have the money to just plunk her in to a private school situation. She does not want to be grouped with kids that have been expelled, or doing drugs with behavior issues. Although they may be great kids still, she wants the chance to be serious and surrounded by supportive, caring, positive influences.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read our story. I’m hopeful there is something that can be done, and very determined to find out what that is. She really deserves a chance.

I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Kind regards,

P.S. some details have been left out…..for reasons I can’t say…..

February 3, 2016 0

Fight or Flight

“Hi, mom? I’ve hurt my wrist – can you come get me?”

It was near the end of the school year – 2008. My oldest was in grade 8 at the time – a transition year as the students prepare for grade 9 – the first year of high school. He was a great athlete, on the volleyball team, and had been playing football since he was 7. Being tall and built strong and sturdy, he was the treasure of any team that could get him to play. At that time he was almost 6′ tall, maybe even more, had size 13 feet, and spoke fluent french. Being the tallest in the school had always been hard, and made him a target for bullying, as well as higher expectations. Just because he was tall, people would treat him like he was older than he was, and I know it was hard for him.

“Are you ok? ”

“Yeah – can you just come right away?”

He seemed pretty upset, so I drove to the school right away. When I arrived, I went to the office, and saw 6 boys sitting in a row. Some had torn shirts, a few of them had blood spilled down the front, one had a bloody face, and another was holding an ice pack to his eye. I knew every one of those boys, which was my first clue this was way more than a sore wrist.

“Hi, can I see my boy?”

“Sure – he’s in the infirmary. When you’re done, the principle would like to talk to you.”

I went in to the sick room, and there he was, sitting on the bed with an ice pack on his cheek and covered in blood spray across his t-shirt. He looked at me with that “don’t be mad” kind of look in his eyes. It wasn’t too hard to figure out what had happened – only the exact details needed to be filled in.

“They attacked me mom. We were playing football, and they got mad at the play. I landed on the ground, and they started kicking me in the ribs. They wouldn’t quit, and one jumped on me. My adrenaline kicked in and I needed to defend my self, so I threw him off, and I guess he hurt his nose. I don’t really know what happened next, but all of them came at me – it was self defence.” I held my fist up, and told him to pound it. I wasn’t upset at him at all. The bullying had been happening since he was in elementary, and it had to stop.

I went in to the principles office to discuss what had happened. He told me how the story was true, and chuckled as he described 6 boys flying through the air. In-school suspensions were in line for them all, and although they said it wasn’t my boy’s fault, he would have to have the same punishment as well.

None of this really bothered me. I had been severely bullied when I was young too, and I knew that sometimes things had to come to a head before they got better. It was what happened next that has stuck with me to this day.

“You know, this was a pretty intense situation. Your son seems pretty upset, and alone. You know, I would hate to see anything more serious happen. Maybe you should keep him home for the last 6 weeks of school.”

“Anything more serious? Like what? What do you think is going to happen?”

“Well, I…., I mean I’ve seen kids……..you know, commit suicide from this kind of thing before, and well, I’d hate to see that happen again. You know – get some space from the situation.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. I was absolutely stunned. The principals suggestion had nothing to do with concern for my son’s well being. It was completely a way to get rid of a perceived possibility and admonish himself from any responsibility.

Why am I telling this story? Because it is pretty much the situation we’re in now with my daughter – just 8 years later. “There is nothing we can do. Maybe you need to think of an alternative. She shouldn’t be here – we can’t help her. We don’t have the time or resources to deal with these issues. We’re a school, and it has to run a certain way.”

Mental health issues have been coming to the forefront a lot lately. There are commercials on tv about stigma and empathy. Facebook is littered with pages of awareness on the topic. Bell has a “let’s talk about it” platform happening. All of this focus and attention on a topic, that in my opinion doesn’t seem to change. The vice principal of our high school even admitted, that when she sees “those kids”, her feelings are different – she see’s them as a problem – and her job is to administrate, and get rid of the problems.

There is an instinct that lies in all of us when we are put in stressful situations. Some of us run from situations that put us in an uncomfortable amount of stress. The body and mind say “get out of here”, and we do just about anything to make it happen. Then there are the people like me. When faced with stressful or intense situations, we step back, assess the situation, and then make a plan. The fighters. I am a fighter.

This story is long from over. Let the letter writing, the emails, the phone calls, and everything else along with it begin. I may not be able to make a change today, but the only way change will happen, is if anyone of us that has experiences this type of treatment and prejudice speaks out for change.

This isn’t over. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

January 23, 2016 0

Ready or Not…

“Hi, mom?”

“Hey Sweetie, what’s up?”

“Can you come pick me up?”

“Now? Are you done your work?”

“I have to leave now, they said I have to leave right now.”

“My lunch is in 10 minutes. I’ll come right there.”

It’s been a rough school year. The plan was to transition my daughter in to the regular stream and help her feel successful. She was so excited to go back, see old friends, and get back to learning. The plan was to have a modified schedule, with extra time for support at the school, and access to the Healing Arts room whenever she needed it.

Things started out fine. Science was great, and her english teacher ended up being my oldest son’s childhood football coach, so we had a bit of a chuckle about that. The drama teacher was taking a special interest, and inviting her to classes to participate which she absolutely loved. She spent tons of time working on an audition for the school play, knowing full well that new students don’t usually get parts, but she was so excited she was even willing to mop the floor if it meant she could just watch and learn.

Then, it started. A rumour began to spread about the pink haired girl who liked to cross her legs in her desk. She also would stand outside in her bare feet, and would wear colorful flowy clothing. This was no normal girl – she must be up to something. The drama teacher posted the parts list for the play, and as expected, she didn’t get a part. No worries – surely working on sets, cleaning up, mopping floors would be a way to enjoy what was happening, but the teacher said no. Since when did a teacher say no to someone helping with no agenda – just to be helpful?

I picked her up from school, and with tears she told me about what happened.

“Why won’t he let me in? I can’t even mop the floor, and he won’t even look at me. He just says I have other things to deal with – I need to focus on my classes?”

“There must be a misunderstanding. Why don’t you go talk to him, and ask him to explain what happened and why the change of heart?”

“Yeah – ok. I’m going to send him an email, and tell him how passionate I am about this, and how it excites me. He has to know I’ll do anything to catch up – and will work really hard. I’ve got to try.”

The email was written, but the response was the same. No. Absolutely not. Don’t ask again.

No is not my favorite word, and if I’ve learned one thing about myself – I don’t always respond very well to it. Give me an unreasonable no, and I just can’t stand by and accept it. So, I did what any mama bear would do. I went in to the school, and sat in the office until someone would explain to me. I sat there for over an hour, just waiting. Another 30 minutes went by – still waiting. Finally, the guidance counselor invited me in to her office to talk. She told me how my daughter was using drugs, and dealing drugs in school. She told me how the drama teacher got spooked by her involvement as a dealer. She told me she seemed distracted, and bounces from thing to thing at school. How she’s jittery, and can’t concentrate – just like kids on drugs.

“So, where did you get the information that my daughter is a drug dealer? Do you have any proof?”

“Well, we’ve observed her and she has the behaviors of kids that are using. Could you provide us with a drug test? Have you even had her tested?”

I sat and listened in shock. After everything we’ve been through, and now there’s drugs involved? Could it be true? No way. Maybe? Seriously, no way. But I’ve been wrong before. I can’t believe this.

“I don’t believe it. I need proof. She’s been tested repeatedly over the last year and a half. Every program she’s been in tests regularly, and I’ve never heard anything about drugs.”

“Just watch. We’re saying we’re very concerned. Maybe if she changed the way she looked – people might not be so suspicious.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

I went home, and sat down on the couch, and was just honest with my daughter. As the tears rolled down her cheeks, I tried to reassure her that judgement should never be made because of how someone looks, but unfortunately it happens. We made a plan and had YCUSP reassure the school that there had never been even a trace of drugs or questionable results in her tests.

That was the start of the downhill slide.

Fast forward to today. Make no mistake, I know full well that my daughter is very behind in school. She’s missed many classes, sometimes days, and has spent a lot of time hiding in the bathroom. Kids she grew up with have shunned her because she’s weird and abnormal, after all, kids who have pink hair and pierced noses must be trouble makers. Teachers have made comments in front of the entire class and made her sit alone from the rest of the class because she’s behind. Teachers harrassed her in the hall, making her explain every day why she is there later than other kids. And today. Today she was removed from a room of kids studying and doing homework, because she hadn’t done enough work. I had made special arrangements for transportation, we had made a plan with teacher for success, and yet in front of the other kids she was told she had to leave the school immediately.

“I’m on my way. I’m coming in – I want to talk to whoever is in charge. This is ridiculous – we had a plan.”

“Your daughter is not happy here. We feel she is sliding backwards and getting worse. This is the wrong environment, and she can’t be here. There’s nothing more we can do for her until she is better. She’s just not ready.”

That’s what this year was supposed to be about. Transitions. Ready or not, we would work at it and try to make things work. The regular school system has a lot of help for regular kids, doing fairly well with regular grades, regular hair, regular clothes and families, and regular interests. Take a kid who attends regularly, finishes the majority of the work, and feels anxiety in class – there’s no end of sympathy and help for them. Take a kid with colored hair, different clothes, a piercing or two, that shakes from their anti-depressants or ADHD meds, and has enough anxiety that it’s hard to enter the class room, and they get sent to the office for being a dramatic and lazy – just looking for attention. “There’s nothing we can do with you. You don’t do your work. Why do you even come here?”

I sat and watched the tears roll down my daughter’s face today, as she spoke about the treatment she has received over the last 5 months from students and teachers. The Vice Principle sat and listened, and even admitted her job hasn’t been to assume positive intent. She’s an administrator, and if there are suspicions, she needs to get rid of them.

We left the school with their words ringing in my ears. “This is not the place for you. We want you to get healthy and be happy – see a smile on your face. You’re not ready for this school or any really. You need to feel successful before you can fit in to this kind of system. I’m sorry we couldn’t do that for you and wish you the best. You can always come back.”

“Did I just get kicked out of school?”

“I really don’t know. I don’t think they can actually do that, but it kind of feels like it, doesn’t it?”

“Now what?”

“I don’t know – I really don’t know. We have some thinking to do. I’m tired – and I need to think.”

January 22, 2016 0

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