School Assemblies

Today I had a school assembly. At some point I will talk about how it feels to be the parent that other parents whisper about, avoid or give sympathetic smiles to but today I'm sharing the emotions I go through with a school assembly. School assemblies are always a nervous time for me. Is my son going to sit still for the whole thing, will he wriggle, will he shout out, will he get told off for talking and then have a meltdown, will he do his part without a hiccup, worse case scenario, will he get carried out screaming and crying (yes this HAS happened in the past). Some assemblies go really well, he might wriggle, look bored and not join in but he manages to get through without being noticed. These are the assemblies that see me leave with a sigh of relief and a heavy heart. I know that a decision has been made to leave him out and not give him a part rather than 'manage' him. I can get over my feelings of disappointment knowing that he is none the wiser. But other assemblies (like today's) when a brave, kind, enthusiastic teacher has put her faith and confidence in my son's ability to deliver a 10 word speech to the rest of the school and parents there is always a good chance that I won't be leaving with my head held high. Today was one of those days. When my son's moment arrived he refused to get up and make his speech, his teacher tired her best to persuade him but it was no good, another child was called up to take over. I knew my son would regret not taking part and I watched him start to squirm and wriggle, then wave his piece of paper in the direction of his teacher making squeaking noises. Eventually he was allowed to come to the front and given another chance to read his bit, he took one look at everyone and curled into a ball on the floor, at which point his teacher read his work for him, this was met by my son with shouts of 'no, don't read it' followed by cheers and laughing from the rest of the school (and a teacher I noticed). He crawled back to his seat whimpering and tearful, looking around to find me and pull and sad face and put his thumbs down. Its at this point that my heart breaks for him, I want him to have an easier life, I want him to find things as straight forward as other kids, I want him to be successful. I'm also annoyed, I want to know what is so hard about that tiny task, why did he have to make it so difficult, why couldn't he have declined without making such a fuss, why did he show me up...AGAIN! And then I have to put aside my feelings and remember that he needs me to believe in him, to not be cross or annoyed but to understand that he didn't squeak, turn into a little ball, shout and cry to upset or annoy me (or his teacher), he didn't do it to make the other kids laugh. He really wanted to read out his work today, he wanted to feel proud of himself, he wanted to make me proud of him, but his emotions got the better of him and as his emotions are intense and he tends to act on his feelings rather than thinking through the consequences, today's assembly didn't go quite to plan. I wanted to tell him to pull himself together, to shake my head and pull a sad face back but I didn't. When he eventually found me and stuck his thumbs down and pulled a sad face I mouthed back 'don't worry, I love you' and gave him the thumbs up and the best smile I could manage. He shook his head and tears rolled down his cheeks. Its hard to be understanding when your own emotions are so strong but I have to be there to let him know I accept him and love him unconditionally. I cried all the way home, knowing that my son is sad and might not pull himself together for the rest of the day and that I have to take the playground walk of shame at pickup. It's days like this I picture the excitement, wonder and innocence he gets from the simplest of things, finding an interesting bug, running through woods, building camps, discovering something new, treasure hunting, riding his bike. I remember the excited way in which he will tell me about his findings and adventures. I find joy in his love and appreciation of life and then I find the strength to lift my head back up and show him that no matter what we go through together I'm on his side. One day he'll present at conferences or deliver the most amazing speeches, I hope I get to go along to at least one so I can walk away and say 'that was my son! 15 years ago he'd have been curled up in a ball crying'.