Disco Diva

Tonight was the school disco, after school. Even though somebody was too late to buy a ticket for the disco, his Mum managed to wrangle him a ticket by kicking up some sort of a fuss. He was on a half day today as well so I’m not entirely sure why she was so desperate for him to go, especially when it would mean that she’d have to walk to school to pick him up at lunch, walk back later to drop him off and walk back again to pick him up before their train to London. That’s a lot of walking for someone who complains about how often she has to walk a mile each way to drop him off and collect him from school. 

So the morning went pretty ok, considering we did no maths (his favourite subject) and he started to strop, when we were doing phonics before playtime. He didn’t have his book bag which contained his guided reading work that he was supposed to be catching up on, so he couldn’t even complete that in guided reading before he went on an iPad for free reading… I did make him do a story review before he went on an iPad. Just because I felt like it. Anyway, apparently, his mum had told him to forget his book bag this morning, because he wouldn’t need it!? How did she know he wouldn’t need his reading book and guided reading work with him, this morning. 

He had a minor meltdown when he could only buy one cake for children in need instead of 5. He had a pound and enough to buy 5 cakes. How very dare the PTFA let him buy only one? (Well considering they were letting him attend the disco when he had missed the opportunity to buy a ticket last week, he should count himself pretty lucky!) he went out to play happily and came back afterwards, excited for maths. When I told him we were actually going to be doing no maths today, like it said on his timetable, he flopped onto his chair exasperated. His 1:1 arrived to take him to sensory, just in time. The class and I started our English, writing similes, and when he arrived, he asked what he had to do for his learning. He got on with it, without any fuss. During English, he started asking why he couldn’t stay in school this afternoon, because he wanted to stay. (And mum probably wanted him to stay in school too.) 

At lunch, he managed to keep to his requested lunch option, so I didn’t need to chase him around school trying to force feed him fish fingers and chips today. He did, however, drop his cheese wrap on the floor as he was trying to sit down at the table. So we had to go back to the hatch and request another. By the end of lunch, his mum was 15 minutes late collecting him from school. My crystal ball started glowing, telling me that she would be incredibly late collecting him from school. Maybe 3 hours late? After collecting him from the disco? Possibly? Nobody was more surprised than me, when she arrived ten minutes later to collect him. 

He went home and came back at the end of school for the disco. Desperate to get to the party, he was climbing on the door, trying to open it. As soon as my late collect was released to her parent, I let him through the door, after I witnessed him kiss mum goodbye with a cuddle for the first time ever, after a little prompting from myself to say goodbye to mum. But in in my 14 months of teaching him, I’d never seen this kind of interaction with mum first hand. I walked him down to the hall so the party could officially start, with his presence announced by the rest of my class welcoming him. The children were all sitting down for the house rules. The first game was musical statues. He didn’t win but surprisingly, he took losing in the best way I’ve ever seen. When he was told he was out, he simply said, “I’ve never got that far in the game before,” and walked to the side. I stood in shock for a moment. Where was the scream? Where were the tears? Where was the drop to the floor and massive tantrum? 

At the end of the disco, he was called to meet his mum. Another adult, said she’ll assist him travelling through the hustle and bustle of parents, so he could meet his mum outside. Panicked ensued as he remembered his train that he couldn’t be late for. The adult went to grab his hand and as she did, he tried to push past her to whizz out of the door. For fear of him getting squashed amongst the parents or hurting a waiting younger sibling on his way out, we both grabbed him to steady him. He dropped himself to the floor, trying to wriggle away. This is when his meltdown happened, instead of after losing musical statues. Repeating that he had to get to his train and he couldn’t be late over and over again. He ended up on the floor, right in front of the doorway, where waiting parents could see his behaviour and waiting children had to walk around him in order to get to their parents. He wouldn’t stand up and walk sensibly, so I think, at one point, my colleague actually lifted him back up into his feet, but he dropped to the floor again as he tried to wriggle away. In the end, my TA took his hand and they both led him outside to is impatient, waiting mum. 

The last remaining children were collected and I returned back to my class to get ready to go home. I’m hoping he doesn’t leave his glasses as his grandma’s in London this weekend. Although, I’m not holding my breath, I am willing to bet a packet of haribo sweets on it! 

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