Page 79 of Chubs

“So, as I was saying, he’s de-scented and friendly. He’s not as much of a threat as those weird kids in room 4 are. Now those kids are whacked,” Craig says after giving me a grin.

“School is not the place for a skunk. Period. End of story,” the principal states in a firm tone.

“I disagree with you on that. Blind kids have seeing-eye dogs, and they’re allowed in school,” Craig argues while stroking a sleeping Bart.

“You’re not blind!” the principal insists. “And that isn’t a dog! It’s a skunk which is an inappropriate pet, something your parents should have thought of when you wanted one.”

“According to who? Do you make the rules and laws as to what’s an appropriate or inappropriate pet? I don’t think so. You’re just scared of him, so you’re being a bit of a dick about this,” Craig answers calmly.

“Language! And a skunk is never allowed in school, regardless of your parents’ lack of common sense!”

“Careful, Principal Jones. Be very careful what you say about my parents’. Before you talk yourself into an ass-kicking by my dad, let me say this, and then we’ll leave. Schools are putting kitty litters into bathrooms for kids who think they’re cats, and yet you’re concerned about me bringing my emotional support animal to school? Where I need emotional support the most? School is very traumatizing for a child like me, and you’re probably going to give me PTSD with your handling of this situation,” Craig advises. “I won’t bring Bart to school again, but I will find ways to deal with this trauma you’ve caused him and I. Not sure you’re going to like me getting creative, though. What is it my teacher always says? Oh, yeah. Actions have consequences. You’d do well to remember that.”

“I’ve caused you trauma? Really? You set your skunk on the cafeteria table, and it started a stampede!” Principal Jones says in dismay.

“He had to eat too. What, now you want to starve animals along with traumatizing young children? You’re a sick man that might want to spend some time with the school counselor. Let’s go, Lucy. I can’t reason with a madman,” Craig says as he stands, picks up his backpack, and cuddles Bart close as if shielding him from the crazy man in the room.

“Tessie and the other kids are in the hallway. Please, wait there for me,” I instruct Craig and ignore the wink he gives me as he walks out the door.

“What’s his punishment?” I ask the principal as soon as the door closes.

“I’ll have to think about it. I’ve never had something like this happen before. I don’t know if we even have a policy covering it,” he states wearily as he takes a seat behind his desk.

“Craig is too smart for his own good, and it causes problems when he’s bored. He needs a purpose, like helping the kids that are struggling. Something that keeps his mind busy and lets him feel useful. Punishment isn’t the answer. Not with him. His classes are too simple for him, and he’s not being challenged. He absolutely loves learning, but he has no patience when he feels he’s being talked down to. His teacher needs to adapt to his style of learning and find ways to engage his thinking side instead of his reaction side,” I advise in a soft voice.

“Are you a teacher? An educator? If not, then maybe you shouldn’t hand out advice on a subject you know nothing about. Mr. Craig will learn to adapt to our way of teaching or not. That will be his choice, I guess,” Principal Jones states in a hard, cold voice. “I’m sure his dad being a biker has something to do with his behavior.”

“Craig was being homeschooled prior to this and was doing great. He’s way ahead of his classmates, and he looked forward to his lessons each day. Before you make any further comments about bikers, know that the person who fed Craig his knowledge is a biker. The problem here is that you’re trying to fit a square peg in a round hole,” I reply with a bite to my tone.

“And I’ll repeat, you have no training to give out advice. He’ll learn our way, or he won’t. Some kids fall through the cracks, and that may end up being his path in life,” Principal Jones says dismissively.

“I’ll say goodbye then and wish you luck with your decision. You’re going to need it,” I respond, then walk out.

“Let’s go,” I tell my group as I walk past.

“It’s my fault. With everything going on, I forgot to do a pat-down this morning,” Pippa says with a moan.

“Things happen, Pips. Craig saw an opening and took it. Can I say something that’s probably not my concern?”

At her nod, I speak my mind.

“I don’t think that particular school is a good fit for Craig. The principal’s attitude wasn’t one of wanting to see each kid succeed but just the easy ones. I’m not trying to throw shade at the teachers. I know they have a difficult job, and most do the best they can. But if the principal had that type of attitude with me about Craig, who’s to say he’s not that way with kids with challenges, or are from poor families, or any number of things that make them stand out or not be the best student? I didn’t like that he was ready to give up on Craig the first time he’s had an issue with him,” I explain.

“I don’t like that either. You can’t just give up on a kid that age because he acted out once. Craig’s teacher has said all along that he’s good in class, especially with the other kids, but he gets bored easily. She suggested he be moved up a few more classes, but the principal wouldn’t sign off on it,” Pippa responds.

“What are you going to do?” I ask.

“For now, Craig will have to continue going there. When Pooh and I get a chance to discuss options, maybe we can find a better fit for Craig.”

“What’s his punishment?” I question.

“Three-day suspension from school, and he’s grounded from riding his bike for a week. He knew he wasn’t supposed to take Bart, so he forfeited his bike riding for it. Did he really call Bart his emotional support animal?” Pippa asks with a small laugh.

“Yeah, he schooled the principal on mental health issues and how he might be causing him PTSD. Your kid’s a savage,” I answer with my own grin.

“I’ve been told that before. You know, I go to bed each night and worry that I don’t know how to be his mom. That I’m going to mess it up so bad that I’m going to ruin his life. Being a mom, yes, I can figure that out like every other parent does, but his mom? No. He’s such a sweet and caring little boy, and then something happens, and out comes his ornery side. I want him to succeed in life, but am I making mistakes now that will stop that from happening? I honestly don’t know. Pooh says I worry too much and that all we need to do is set a good example and love him,” Pippa admits quietly.

“You two are the exact parents he needed when he got you. He’s just Craig. He needs the same things all kids need. He just makes you work harder at it. Pooh’s right, though, and you both do those things already,” I reply sincerely.

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