Glimpsesofcolour

So finally, after three days of no school last week (with GB thereby missing a German test yet again), we get a message saying there is school today. Only to find him just before school time saying he has a bad stomach ache, and can’t go. I tried asking if anything about school is worrying him, but he couldn’t identify anything. So one more day getting behind with coursework etc.

Oh well, I managed in spite of this to get back into some kind of work routine. It feels like Christmas has only just finished, and even now I can’t tell if it’s safe to go back into the office (ie across the landing into the spare bedroom…!). Still, I did finally take down the Christmas tree yesterday, with much sadness (I hate that task) and to the accompaniment of a CD of the Vienna Philharmonic doing the New Year concert (the Vienna Boys’s Choir singing German Christmas carols is my accompaniment for decorating the tree before Christmas).

Feeling a bit shaky after a day’s work, and not looking forward to doing minutes at the Inclusion Group tonight, but at least I’ve got some important admin done.

Had lunch with three old ladies today, including two Viennese old ladies (one being my mother). Every comment or question had to be repeated, and I couldn’t help thinking that it would make a good sitcom – after all we’ve had Last of the Summer Wine about three (or was it four?) old men. This would have to be Last of the Wiener Schnitzel or something like that. At least none of them got stuck in the lavatory.

Anyway, I survived, though I was distinctly tired afterwards from repeating everything and having to interpret them to each other. That, and having been landed with an admirer of my son’s (she has been sweet on him ever since he was 10), who turned up at our house hoping to find him when he was still in an exam. I’m very fond of her, but it was quite tough going keeping her happy while she waited. I think she is trying to cash in on the fact that he appears to have broken up with his latest girlfriend. That has the makings of a good sitcom too…

The other day I went to a workshop on helping our autistic spectrum kids with relaxation. Arriving particularly early to claim one of the very limited parking spaces, I decided to wander around the gardens of the mini-stately home we were meeting in. The gardens were fabulous, but I was disconcerted to see a policewoman apparently mounting guard over a table filled with pumpkins. Could she be the pumpkin police? During the workshop I could also see out of the window a policeman walking to and fro (or possibly two policemen changing places). I never did find out what necessitated their presence (apart from the pumpkins, of course).

Strange bangs and vibrations are coming into our house from the flat above. I hope it is just the tenants’ washing machine throwing a wobbly. And I hope it stops, otherwise we will have to buy them a new washing machine.

Meanwhile the saga of the school special needs policy grinds on. I saw the SENCO (special needs coordinator) this morning, and since my earlier emails, Genius Brat’s teaching assistant support has magically rematerialized. However she has also confirmed that there are only 8.6 TAs (what does 0.6 of a TA look like?) to fulfil the support hours on around 54 statements. This is clearly woefully inadequate, and I feel justified in organizing the parents’ meeting I have organized for Saturday (though woefully unqualified to lead it). It looks as though a feasible number of parents will be coming to it too. And we have a grant promised from the NUT to cover expenses (eg room hire, refreshments).

As well as running this (admittedly with a competent co-organizer who knows more than I do), I have four tasks given to me by the CBT therapist. I am beginning to think this therapy is going to give me another breakdown. Of course, I could always say that this is too much, and decide which of the four I am prepared to try. Since I am not good enough at saying No, I could surely practise by saying No to the therapist?

Finally in this blog of bits, the Over Keen Girlfriend crisis and the German Coursework Crisis seem to have been temporarily resolved. Though I expect they will both crop up again. I wouldn’t go back to being a teenager for anything – not even for a wrinkle free body (have you ever noticed how those extra powerful hand drying machines blow the loose skin on the back of your hand into little waves if you are over 50?)

My only excuse (but it’s a good one) for not blogging since last Monday, is that The Demon Headmaster has struck again and I have been much preoccupied with doing stuff about it. To elucidate, I have discovered that my son is currently getting 0% of the 32 1/2 hours of teaching assistant support that his statement entitles him to. This is even more invidious when you consider that we live in Borough A, which issues his statement, but the school is in Borough B. This means Borough A is giving the school around £20,000 specifically for my child and the school is spending it on something else. In any other context this would be called fraud. And he is by no means the only child not getting their support, indeed one child’s parents are taking the school to the High Court over the lack of implementation of their child’s statement.

Not only that but it seems the school has revived a policy they tried to implement a couple of years ago, to put statemented kids in a ’special’ class, which may result in all the learning support resources being directed to this group, and no support for those left in the mainstream classes. Which can hardly be called inclusion.

Fired by righteous indignation I have been working with one other parent to revive the defunct Inclusion Group, and we have got a meeting going for next weekend. We also sent details to both the boroughs involved. I just hope parents turn up in decent numbers so we can present a united front to the school. What this head has done to special needs kids is truly appalling. The sad thing is, I was in a café last week with some parents from the school with ‘normal’ kids, and they all think he’s wonderful.

I don’t often quote myself, but about three posts ago I apparently wrote this: ‘I don’t think I am going to go into another post-holiday depression’. What was that about pride and falls?

Basically I’ve been feeling totally horrible since the end of last week, partly triggered by a big upset with Genius Brat last Thursday. Also not helped by the fact that on Sunday at the church visitor drop-in with no visitors, I foolishly volunteered to play Dutch Blitz (it’s a Mennonite thing) against possibly the fastest player in the Mennoverse. Everyone else was slamming down cards at the speed of light and I was sitting there staring at my cards and wondering what they were for… I dropped out after the first round and went and locked myself in the loo and howled. Later a friend found me on the stairs and listened to me for a long time – our church is good at that.

Have been mostly sleeping since that time, but did manage to send off some extracts of my published work yesterday to a lady who wants to publish them in a Christian writers’ mag. This was actually my only really urgent task, so that counted as a good day.

Also managed to get out of hosting a dinner party for US friends on Thursday while The Grouch is having a church elders’ meeting; instead someone else who wanted to see them too is hosting it. I really would like to start having friends round for dinner more, but this is not the right moment. And I have cancelled my sermon for Sunday – if no one else volunteers to do it, we will have a service without a sermon. It won’t kill anyone.

I think I am on the upward curve now but still taking things very easy. I really do wish a psych would diagnose me as type 2 bipolar – it would explain the ups and downs so much better.

So. Everything was going well, GB was back at school and, amazingly, did his homework the minute he came home, and I was getting to grips with the pile of urgent admin that has been urgent for at least a year. I was all set to go to a theological forum today and tomorrow, and had even read the emailed copies of today’s indigestible papers. Then I woke up this morning and found a boy in my bed, making little grumpy noises. Turns out he was feeling ill and achy. Thoughts of possible swine flu (although I think he has probably already had it) made me feel I couldn’t possibly leave him alone at home ill, and I was feeling pretty exhausted myself at the thought of academic papers and discussion all day. So I rang the school and the conference organizers, and spent the morning messing about online while my cleaner cleaned, and the afternoon asleep. Meanwhile GB, as I might have known, declared he was feeling better. No swine flu then.

This means that in the event of his being fit for school tomorrow (which is likely), I have to decide whether I can spend the day catching up on a forum of which I have missed more than half, when I am still feeling pretty foul myself. Also I have just sent a really rude email to my bank (starting with Dear Stupid Banker!) about which I now feel really ashamed, and don’t feel like showing my face in public at all.

But really – what am I to say to a bank that sends me my user name for online banking, promises I will have a password within five days, and I still haven’t got it two months later; then when I email to point this out, and they reply to say it will be sent in the next five days, they then send me an anonymous email saying that as I have not yet activated my online banking I will have to ring them up! But the reason I haven’t activated online banking is that THE IDIOTS HAVEN’T SENT ME MY PASSWORD YET!

What kind of numpties work at these places – don’t they read their own correspondence? But still I feel bad because they are a nice ethical bank and I ought to be forgiving, and I am supposed to be non-violent in deed and word… Let’s just hope they laugh at ‘Dear Stupid Banker’…

… BINARY is an anagram of BRAINY. Which must mean something…

Not much to report except that I survived the sermon (not one of my best) and am now mostly employed in making sure we can get away on holiday. This mostly involves doing a lot of washing. Oh, and I went to Genius Brat’s parents’ evening earlier tonight. The consensus among the teachers seems to be that he is doing well but is capable of doing even better. But isn’t that what teachers always say: ‘Must try harder’?

I think I am less scared of teachers than I used to be. Especially the ones who appear to be about half my age.

Yesterday: I receive a letter from Genius Brat’s chemistry teacher that informs me helpfully that the deadline for his chemistry coursework is Tuesday 22 June, a date which does not exist this year. Even assuming she meant Tuesday 23rd June, it was not hugely helpful to send, second class, a missive informing me of the deadline which only arrived on the deadline. She also informed me that the coursework was worth 33% of the overall mark, and that he could be moved down to a lower set if the work was not submitted. Added to this is the fact that he missed the Core Science Chemistry exam last week because of illness, and we are well on the way to a failed GCSE.

GB very nonchalant about the whole thing, saying that he can afford to lose one GCSE. I, not very convinced, raise the matter at home group, and lose hours of sleep over it, as well as posting it in every prayer forum I can think of. I also write a panicky email to the Chemistry teacher, asking if there is any possible leeway. My email bounces back the same evening.

Today, I transfer the contents of the email to a letter and, reasoning that it is foolish to post it when the school science wing is 10 minutes walk from home, I go and deliver it by hand. I have done all I can.

Lo and behold, GB saunters home from school and remarks, ‘Oh, I found the chemistry work I’d already started and did some more work on it. I can finish it tonight and the teacher says I can hand it in tomorrow’. My mouth drops open with disbelief.

Do I believe there is a God who answers prayer? Well, to paraphrase a song, ‘Ma’am, I do tonight’.

The good times continued over the weekend, with a meal out on Saturday night with good friends whose son is best friends with my son; then a church lunch on Sunday (with three good desserts!) and a nourishing service on Sunday afternoon.

Managed to get GB back to school for his physics exam on Monday, in spite of the fact that he hadn’t gone to sleep till about 2.00 am! (he came straight home after the exam which he wasn’t supposed to). And this morning I did a ‘learn yoga so you can teach it to your kid’ session, and would have gone to a silent film in the afternoon if I hadn’t driven round and round trying to find a legal parking place and finally given up and gone home. Why oh why does an area have a unique arts cinema with afternoon showings, and then limit pay and display parking to 90 minutes, which is less than the length of most films? Do they really want to shoot their own local economy in the foot?

Oh well, I had a sleep instead. Not as culturally satisfying.