On the last day of school, Milo’s Principal resigned.
We got a robo-call. In her sweetest voice she said that she believes the school will go on to thrive. She offered no explanation for her decision. We also got an email that said the same thing.
Of course, I am relieved.
Because I have spent years negotiating Milo’s place in the world, his reactions to everything and other people’s reactions to him, I sometimes worry that my perspective is skewed. Among my worst fears is that I’m now delusional. I don’t want to blame Milo’s extreme difficulty on anyone else. And I worried that I had been doing exactly that to the Principal. But there is no way in hell that my three phone calls and one in-person visit to district headquarters prompted her decision. Either she’s had enough, or her bosses have.
I’ve been fired. I wasn’t given the face-saving opportunity to resign. I was escorted out of the building. It was a full body take down of my self esteem and my understanding of myself, my abilities, my faults, my effect on people and my priorities. It was awful, and I don’t know if I have recovered. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, not the asshole who fired me and not on Milo’s Principal. I actually wish her well.
But make no mistake, I am elated, ELATED that she will no longer be allowed to fuck up my already fucked up kid’s fucked up life.
And Milo? He answered the phone, hit speaker, let her announcement ring around the room, and busted a victory move.