From the School Front...

The first time I saw the little fellow was last year. I was on my way to pick up my nephews from the library at their school when I heard the screaming. One could not miss the commotion.

In the cleared hallway, you could see a tiny figure kicking and screaming in front of the library room doors. Three teachers were squatted around him. No one touching him, they were each trying, individually to talk to him, as no one is allowed to bring him up into their arms and hug him. It seems he did not want to leave the library and took a fit about it. That day, the school officials had to call the police who ended up carrying the child to the office.

I had been volunteering at my nephews school that year working in the office and encountered that little boy in the office quite often. He was never still. Ever. And, he is just as cute as a button and smart. He continued the rest of the year with these encounters of fits, and I would often see the counselor carrying him down the hall, kicking and screaming, as what seemed to become his usual pattern. And, I learned, there is a certain way in which the counselor is supposed to carry him. If he cannot get the child in that position, and the child is still carrying on, then the police will be called into the school to handle the situation (your tax dollars at work).

Then he began to break that pattern and so began running off school grounds. This little tiny fellow running away, with adults running after him, as he headed off toward the wooded areas that surrounded the school. And, think now, teachers cannot leave their charges, so help would have to be gathered quickly to accomplish this task.

This year, I volunteer in one of the kindergarten classrooms. As I was walking to the library yesterday with a bunch of papers to bound into booklets, I heard screaming. I stopped and looked around and at first didn't see anything, but knew that definitely was screaming coming from somewhere.

I paused at the library door. The hallways were empty. The screaming was now turning a corner. And I saw Mr. R, the main counselor, walking slowing towards the office with kicking legs and arms extending out in front of him. It was that little boy.

I enquired later as to what had happened.

What happened was the usual. His grandmother is called to the school to pick him up and take him home. She is 80 and walks with a cane. When she came in yesterday, the little fellow decided he did not want to go home and would not leave the office he was waiting in.

Grandma turned to the reception at the desk and said, "What the child needs is a good swat on the backside." The little fellow was finally talked into leaving the office and went home with his grandmother.

He is six years old.