Wherein I Cry

It's been a rough week. I won't lie. I won't exaggerate. I won't even sugar coat it. It sucked. And the suckiness {if that's a word} is still going strong. Granted, I've had much rougher weeks, but it's been awhile so I'd forgotten to bring my A-Game.

Last week we had a meeting with some school district uppities. {They had the results of a test B had taken in 2nd grade.} While they looked us over like spoiled meat, we cringed, knowing they were thinking we'd stolen our oldest kid from some smart people, because how could he have come from us? They talked, we nodded; a little shell shocked to do much else. Among their suggestions on how to educate this rare oddity was to grade skip him.

We didn't know what to do. We didn't know what to say. This was new territory and we weren't Lewis and Clark. They at least had a compass and Sacajawea. We didn't have either and they really wouldn't have been helpful in this situation anyway.

So we talked to people. Most times, the response was positive. We met with a group of people who have their own rare oddities and they had awesome advice also. But when it really came down to it, the decision was ours. So, we did it. We decided as parents that we could not in good conscience not do whatever we could to help him progress. This wasn't a decision we took lightly. {I look a little zombie-like and I think if you tried to hold a conversation with me I might unwillingly nod off.}

And after it was decided, I cried. I knew it was right, but here I was sending my just barely baptized eight year old to the wolves. And then, all the negatives wouldn't leave me alone.

He'll be in a grade with kids 2 years older than him.
He won't have any friends.
They won't like him.
They'll pick on him because they know he's supposed to be in third grade.
They won't let him play with them.
He'll be alone.

Everything I read and everyone I talked to said he'd be fine. Heck, even the test he took said he'd be fine. But in my heart, I was scared. No child should ever have to feel alone and I certainly didn't want mine to feel that way.

When I walked him to class this morning and heard a few kids ask why he was there, my heart ached. When I left him and he looked a little smaller than them, my heart cracked. But, when I checked on him during recess and saw him standing alone, my heart broke.

As I stood by the lunchroom door crying silently, I questioned my once strong decision.

Was I wrong?
Was this the right thing to do?
Would he be ok?
Would he ever make friends?
Would he be alone for the rest of 4th grade?

The test said he'd be ok. Everyone I talked to said he'd be ok. Even my head said he'd be ok, but I couldn't reconcile that with my broken heart.

And still, I cry. Because I wonder.