Handy Props and Labels Ease Grown-Up's Fear of "The Principal's Office"

By Kelly Sinon

The Power of the Middle School Office extends well into adulthood. I sat in a straight-backed wooden chair against the wall, clutching a folder from the doctor.  Normally, the chairs are tiny, but this time, they were too big; an attempt at disarming parents who might have come to the school with the idea that they would be speaking to equals. My sandaled feet strafed the stained green carpet as I nervously swung my legs back and forth.

                I was there, folder in hand, to meet with school administration regarding my son’s new Autism diagnosis. I wasn’t really sure why I'd brought it. It only held three Xerox’ed papers, explaining the next steps as a new “Autism Family”. I just knew that folders make people look prepared and important. I am neither of these, so the prop was handy.

Being horrible with names, I immediately came up with “names” for the people I was introduced to. I was also keenly aware of the labels I was attaching. The very thing I did not want for my son. A label. And yet, here I was, talking with Green-Eyed Psychologist With Clip Board, Curly Haired Counselor With Messy Desk and Math Teacher With Pleasant Face And Hawaiian Shirt. I am sure these would not pass muster as Native American names, but they worked for me.

                I wondered what “name” they might have attached to me, as I sat down, ready to be the advocate my son needs me to be.

I could not shake the feeling that Green-Eyed Psychologist was studying me, as he jotted things on his clipboard. I made sure I smiled, made eye-contact, answered all questions articulately and hoped he deemed me “normal.” and worthy of motherhood.

Curly Haired Counselor With Messy Desk didn’t say much. She just took notes on the flowing conversation, and chuckled at appropriate times. At least, what I hoped were appropriate.  At the end, I’d seen that she had summarized the entire 45 minutes very well. I was impressed.

Math Teacher With Pleasant Face And Hawaiian Shirt was singing my son’s praises as a “good, polite boy who pays attention.” I beamed. No matter what, all mothers want their boys to be “good boys.”  The news wasn’t all good, as he told me that Kirk will need to re-take some quizzes and tests that were rushed through and failed.

Next step is to have Green-Eyed Psychologist With Clipboard conduct his own independent work-up, as a work-up from an actual hospital with actual PhD’s is too “broad”. Apparently, the district only recognizes the diagnosis from a Middle School  school psychologist. Ironically enough, he cannot start his Independent Work-up without our doctor’s final report.  I blinked. Seriously?  I do understand that they need a benchmark for district standards and criteria to issue special services that Kirk might need.  But it just sounds like circular logic.

                So in the meantime, the world will still turn, Kirk will still be Kirk and for all I know, I will continue to be Crazy Nervous Nearly Empty Folder Toting Mom With Short Legs.

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Kelly Sinon is filling The Folder in an effort actually be more prepared and appear more important. She lives in Gilroy with her family and can be reached at sksinon@aol.com, not to mention the ever-popular Facebook.

*Note: To see the first part of this column, please go to http://gilroypost.blogspot.com/, a blog written by my friend and award-winning journalist, Dennis Taylor, who was kind enough to let me use his blog as a forum, before I had my own. This, part 2, has been promised to Gilroy Post for publishing as well. It is published here, with permission.

When Facebook Attacks...

Facebook gets a lot of press and ironically, on Facebook itself.
My quest to graduate from "Moooommmm" to "Friend Request Accepted"...

By Kelly Sinon

Social networking sites are not new and neither is the virtual parental praise that go with them.

 Last summer brought the inevitable Facebook Failure when Mom thought that she and her teenage daughter had finally made it to that stage in life that Mom had read about in all the parenting magazines, Cautious Friendship. We were ready.

 It happened steadily. Slowly. A buildup of “Friendless” messages to her account and maybe a day or so later, a return “Friendless” message. Friendless because you don’t have to “Friend” someone in order to send them a private message.

Look at me! 40, and I know all the lingo of Facebook. Don’t let my giddiness fool you.  I do know that this does not make me cool. It just makes me a 40 year-old Facebooker  who desperately wants her daughter to “Friend” her.

And then one day it happened. The day parents dream of (don’t tell me you don’t). The Friend Request Acceptance. That’s right. I dug deep, and hit the button on my laptop from my perch on the couch. 

From across the room , manning the desktop, Teenage Daughter wailed, “Mommmm!” as she opened her Facebook page. I smiled at her, pleading.

“Okay, fine,” Teenage Daughter sighed with a click of the mouse.

Alright, so it wasn’t the eager reception I’d hoped for. I was in!

However, I did not know there were certain rules. Rule one: Nothing you post should ever, and I mean ever, illicit a response from any of her Friends. But I was a Noob and I was jealous of all the other mothers who got to publicly flout the law and  proclaim, “I’m so proud of you, LadyBug!!” and even more jealous when the daughters would reply, “Thanks, Mom! Luv U.”

But now, it was my turn. The world was going to know how very much I love my KatieKat.  I moved with the deliberate precision of a very clumsy, paunchy house cat.  Not too fast. I didn’t want to scare her.  A quick “Good morning,” or “See you tonight,” once a week or so, sometimes repeated or misspelled due to a tiny phone keypad and sausage- like fingers.

But then, the unavoidable happened, the end of her senior year. Bringing with it all of the photo ops and events that just scream for “likes” and comments.  It was a disaster in the making and I was oblivious; a lamb to the Facebook slaughter.

Through the Senior Dinner Dance and Senior Prom season, I was good. Not a word. Although, I ooh’ed and ah’ed to myself over all the pictures that she had on her page and her friends had on theirs.

Finally, the big Disneyland trip was coming up. Being me, I never like when a chick is missing from the nest for a night and I knew it wouldn’t be long until she was gone for a lot longer. It was becoming harder to keep quiet.

While at work a few days later, I knew the bus was pulling out of the high school parking lot and heading to Anaheim and Teenage Daughter and all of her friends would be heading into the night for their last hurrah.

 Just one message couldn’t hurt. I pulled out my phone and texted quickly on her Facebook Wall, “Have a great time, Sweetheart! I am so proud of you. I’ll be thinking of you…” and hit send.  No sooner had I hit send, there was a comment to what I wrote. I was excited. She was responding. Wait. No, it wasn’t her. It was one of her friends, “Awww…”

Uh-oh. This wasn’t good. I sat up straighter in my chair. Another response came up. “That’s so cute!” Crap. And then there was silence. Okay, that’s not so bad; just two.

I went back to work for a while, and thought of Teenage Daughter. Five minutes to quitting time, I pulled out my phone again.  Whew, all quiet on the Facebook front.  Her smiling face beaconing me to look at pictures while I waited for the On Trac pick up from the office. I scrolled though and came across some images with friends. I clicked on their site and saw a message from one of them to Teenage Daughter: “Be nice to your Momma. She just loves you.” I smiled. How sweet of her friend to say that. I scrolled lower.

Teenage Daughter: “I forgot to block her from my boyfriend’s phone,”

                Ouch. I touched my nose to make sure I wasn’t bleeding.

Clearly, I wasn’t ready.

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Kelly Sinon is still proud of her Teenage Daughter who attends UC Riverside. She is just a lot quieter about it and the two have since resumed their Cautious Friendship with “Friendless” messages to each other every few days. Kelly can be reached at sksinon@aol.com or feel free to send her a “Friendless” message. She is no longer ashamed.

*** Note: Since the time of this writing, There are no more "Friendless Messages." 40-year old Mom is now 41, and The Daughter has deemed her old enough and responsible enough to be her friend. Mom is still happily cautious.