**This is a long post** 

I often think that motherhood is not so much about having light-bulb moments as it is about your mind’s dimmer switch being turned on slowly. I’ve been struggling the past month with my eight-year-old daughter, Hannah, because she’s been exhibiting behavior outside the realm of what I consider normal for her. There’s been lying, crying, anger, frustration . . . general sulkiness. Hannah has always been the bright beacon on cloudy days, the epitome of happiness, a true and loyal friend to everyone. You can imagine how this change in behavior has been weighing on my mind, leaving my stomach in knots as I wring my hands in search for answers.

Quite honestly, I thought Hannah was feeling the stress of being in 3rd grade; after all, 3rd-graders are like the middle children of elementary school, stuck in between the coddled lower grades and independent big kids. Hannah has, up until this year, been a top-notch student. While still above par in both reading and writing, she’s been struggling with math. Although math has never been her greatest subject, she’s having a tough time with being fast enough this year. God, how I hate the schools who put emphasis on being fast rather than proficient.

At any rate, I believed Hannah’s self-esteem issues were linked directly to how she’s been struggling in math. Hannah is a lot like me; she wants to be perfect in everything, and she believes a weakness in one area makes her an overall failure. It makes me almost physically ill to see Hannah mirror my bad behavior, and it’s something I’m desperately trying to correct. A call from her class math aide and a conference with her teacher made me question what was really going on, however. Apparently, Hannah is actually doing a lot better in math than what she has led us to believe. She’s average, almost smack-dab in the middle. 

There’s something getting in the way with her self-confidence, said the math aide, and we’re not sure what it is.

I asked both the aide and teacher to occasionally throw Hannah a bone. Tell her she’s doing a good job. Let her know that not everyone can be a math whiz and that she’s a strong reader and writer.

And yet, Hannah’s behavior became more and more bizarre. It was almost as though she was depressed, and I didn’t know how to reach her.

***********************

The other day, Hannah’s friend, so-and-so rode the bus home with her. I’ve been watching so-and-so after school sometimes, as her mother is not always available to greet her daughter directly from the bus. Although I like so-and-so (at least I did) there has always been something about her that’s given me pause. But considering I couldn’t quite put my finger on what bothered me about her, I never said anything. Certainly, I didn’t say anything to Hannah, as I don’t think it’s ever okay for an adult to badmouth one child to another, especially not when the children are classmates. What’s more, I like so-and-so’s mother.

The girls had been downstairs watching Nancy Drew while I finished up a bit of work. After the movie was over, they came upstairs and began getting ready to go outdoors to play. That’s when I noticed a chunk of denim missing from the knee of Hannah’s jeans.

What happened to your jeans, Hannah?

She got that blank stare on her face and refused to speak.

Hannah, did you cut your jeans?

For a brief second, I noticed the girls exchange a look.

Hannah, it looks like your jeans were cut. Did you cut your jeans?

I didn’t do it, mom. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

And again, the girls exchanged another look.

Hannah, it hurts my feelings when you lie to me. Even though I may be disappointed in the truth, I’m even more disappointed when you lie to me.

I didn’t do it, mom. I promise.

So I let them go. But I knew . . .

While the girls were outside, I went downstairs to search for the scissors and the missing piece of denim. And sure enough, there they were, right where the girls had been watching television.

After Hannah’s friend went home, I showed Hannah the evidence. She began crying, but all she said was, I lost my mind. All I could think of was, what the hell sort of answer is that? Hannah’s punishement for lying was to lose TV privileges for an entire week.

Fast forward to the next evening at dinner. My husband was working late, so it was just the kids and me. Hannah was picking at her dinner, looking sullen.

What’s wrong?

And that’s when the dam broke and a tide of pent-up emotion came rushing forth with enough force to practically knock me out of my chair. I told so-and-so we can’t be friends anymore? she quivered.

What happened? I was fully expecting some ridiculous answer.

She’s just so mean mom! She’s a rotten, horrible person! Strong words for an eight-year-old girl.

Hannah is loyal to a fault, so I knew it had to be serious for her to be so emotional. And serious it is. Apparently, so-and-so has been playing Hannah and other friend, with whom Hannah has been good friends since Kindergarten, against each other. So-and-so has been spreading lies and rumors, confiding in Hannah that other friend has been saying mean and nasty things behind her back, and vice versa. The taunting happens almost exclusively on the playground and even got so bad last week that Hannah and other friend went crying hysterically to the supervising teacher. So-and-so got a stern talking to, according to Hannah. I wondered, however, where was my phone call from the teacher? Where was my note sent home that informed me of what had transpired so that I could talk to Hannah? 

I took the opportunity to broach the subject about the previous day’s lying incident. Are you ready to tell me about your jeans?

She began crying. So-and-so made me do it.

What? How did so-and-so make you cut your jeans?

So-and-so told me, “You better cut your jeans, or else.”

Hannah, what did she mean by that?

I don’t know, mom. I was afraid that she wouldn’t be my friend anymore if I didn’t do it. And I didn’t want to tell you yesterday, because I didn’t want to get her in trouble.

See? Loyal to a fault. Obviously, we need to help Hannah better distinguish between knowing right from wrong and asking an adult for help if she feels unsure or uncomfortable.

Hannah spent the better part of an hour venting, crying, and raging. And me? Well, I was livid. Holy crap was I mad.

So I emailed so-and-so’s mother. It was a polite email, full of detailed incidents (including a word-for-word account of the letter so-and-so mailed to Hannah in which she said that they could not be friends at school and, by the way, my dad thinks other friend is a brat). I couldn’t trust my temper over the phone, and email gave me the opportunity to get out all my thoughts in a non-judgemental and non-hostile way.

I also quickly emailed other friend’s mother wondering if other friend had confided anything in her.

The next morning, there was a friendly reply from so-and-so’s mother saying so-and-so has no right to bully the girls and that she will have a talk with her about it. As of yet, I don’t know the details of what she and so-and-so talked about.

But then I had a LONG talk with other friend’s mother, and it’s become apparent that her daughter is receiving the brunt of the bullying. When I told other friend’s mother about the jean incident and got to the part where so-and-so said or else, other friend’s mom gasped and said that her daughter told her of an incident on the playground not too long ago in which so-and-so wanted other friend to do something naughty or else.

Or else, what? asked other friend.

Or else this (miming slitting a throat)

WTF? These girls are eight years old! My head feels woozy as I write this. I am on the verge of both crying and retching into the toilet. All of this makes me so sick.

Other friend’s mother was going to call so-and-so’s mother last night, and I am wondering what happened.

All I know is, both Hannah and other friend have been seriously traumatized by this girl. And I feel awful that it’s taken until now for all of this to come out into the open. We have instilled in our girls the value of friendship, to treat others the way you want to be treated, to be nice no matter what. And then a bully comes along and takes advantage of their sweet disposition, plays them against each other, lies to them, threatens them . . .

So not only do we have to contend with the Special Education Department and AIS (Academic Intervention Specialists) dragging their heels for six months on Jacob’s evaluations, we now have to deal with a school bully. The only good thing to come out of all this is so-and-so is going back to homeschooling next year. This is the first year she’s been in public school. When I asked her mother why she said, I can’t take all the drama. Kids are so mean to each other.

Hannah said, As far as I’m concerned, so-and-so is the one causing all the drama.

We’ve never had problems like this before, and it’s all-of-a-sudden gotten worse. Hannah told me, I’m so glad so-and-so will be home next year. I don’t want her in my school anymore causing problems.

At this point, I don’t know how angry I should be with the teacher and/or principal. I’m not sure they knew the extent of what was going on. But you better believe they’ll hear it from me.

PS - My husband and I are looking into what our legal rights are concerning the AIS evaluations. That will be a post for another day, though.

Possibly related posts: (automatically generated)