After having a terrible first half of the school year last year, my Bear switched schools and had a fabulous team of people willing to help him. A teacher who understood him and was helping to get him ready for the next year: not for the next grade, but for him to return to kindergarten in the fall, but this time, used to the routines, a plan in place, ready to for a great year.
His teacher was just what he needed. She saw beyond his diagnosis and beyond some of his rougher moments to truly love my child. I didn’t have any anxiety about this school year because I knew he would be headed right back into last year’s teacher’s classroom.
But then the classroom assignment letter came.
And he was not in her class.
A quick scan of the letter showed that this wasn’t just an error that could be cleared up by a phone call to the school: his teacher from last year was not listed as a teacher in the school any more.
Cue panic attack. After never having a panic attack in my life until the great disappearing act two weeks ago, they come on very easily now.
A teacher who hadn’t had him last year. Who doesn’t know him.
This is what we were trying to avoid. That learning curve at the beginning of the school year where a new teacher would have to figure out how to best work with Bear.
The fear that this teacher won’t be the right fit for him.
I know that this is something that usually happens every year. But it wasn’t supposed to happen this year. This was supposed to be our one easy year.
We went in to meet his new teacher and I feel better after talking to her… even better knowing that when his old teacher knew she would be taking a totally different type of position somewhere else, she made the suggestion that Bear be placed with the teacher he was assigned to.
But still- it’s a worry where before there was none.
To top it off, his special needs teacher isn’t returning, either.
The two people who had worked the closest with him: gone.
So suddenly, a smooth transition into the new year isn’t guaranteed.
His first day is Wednesday and I can’t help it: I’m worried.
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