Nearing the end of that fateful year, the worst year of my life, and I could see the finish line: summer vacation. I wanted it. I needed it. And I knew it was attainable because the child who had been the naughtiest had been granted out of school suspension for a day. He would not be allowed to attend the last day of school. It was finally happening. A day that the rest of my kiddos could enjoy. A day that I could enjoy.
I need to put this out there. I loved this kid then, and I still love him. We had many special moments together. I think we truly bonded. And that’s why his behavior escalated throughout the year. He hated vacations because he hated his homelife and his family. I knew what was going on, but I couldn’t stop it. We were trapped on this twisted Merry-Go-Round.
Anyway, last day of school. Totally bittersweet. I was psyched that my naughty little friend would not be in attendance because he would do or say something to someone and the day would be ruined. I also had a bit of sadness because, well, let’s face it, I liked the kid. No matter how terribly he treated me. And it was pretty darn terrible. (Sidenote: He was smart, so his insults were personal and hit way below the belt.)
My kiddos started trickling in on that last day, some looking forlorn and some looking ecstatic. And then he appeared in the doorway, grinning wickedly. GASP.
“Hi, Miss!”
My mouth hung open. I quickly directed him into the hallway.
“What are you doing here? You were suspended.”
“Nobody told my dad, and he put me on the bus this morning.”
And so, he enjoyed his last day of school. To his credit, he was perfectly well-behaved that day. But, seriously.
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