How to Deal With Frustration!
I remember a time when my son wanted to blow up his school. I was alarmed at the level of his frustration and anger. He had been targeted by the idiot principal of the Arts and Technology Academy, Mr. Johnson, and some over-the-top teachers who policed and watched my son as if he were a criminal in the making.
It pissed me off to no end.
Last night I watched him graduate from High School. It was a proud moment. He tells me he has plans for college and wants to become a physical therapist. That gives me great joy.
Fuck you, Mr. Johnson! Fuck you, for treating my son like a mini-criminal when you don’t even have a clue what kind of a student you are targeting!
My son’s “crime”? He brought a key chain to school that was in the shape of a gun. His sister had bought it for him from a garage sale that one of my friends held. I didn’t think it would be such a big issue, since the only way he could have hurt anyone with it is if he threw it at them.
However, he didn’t want to turn it over to the school’s office, because he was afraid he wouldn’t get it back. I still have the key-chain as a reminder of how ludicrous certain grown-ass adults can be when dealing with the children whose futures they help form.
When my young son, in his frustration and anger, told me he wanted to “blow up his school”, I became alarmed.
“Really?” I asked, “And, would you want to do this when your friends are in the building and hurt or kill them?”
“No, the building would be empty.”
Whew! That shows a good heart!
“Well, how would you go about doing this?” I wanted to know what was going through his mind and exactly how serious he was about his intentions, or if he was just blowing off steam.
“Well, I’d build a time machine and travel back to when there were dragons. Then, I’d bring back a dragon and have him poop on the school and light the principal’s butt on fire!”
As he told me his plans, I drew a picture of a great big dragon sitting on top of the ATA school (the school I thought was going to be a great experience for my four youngest children because it was progressive and offered “ball room dancing” and lots of artistic and community building opportunities) and had the dragon pooping on the school and lighting the principal’s butt on fire.
We both ended up laughing.
My son taught me a lot as I helped raise him. I’ve employed his awesome techniques while dealing with idiotic grown-ups who tell lies, make assumptions, and treat decent, creative adults as criminals.
Thank you, Isaiah, for being such a great example of humanity! I am proud to be your mother!