Mammone
This word has been floating around in my head for the past week. It's the Italian word that describes the result of years of unrestrained doting of a mother on a son... the kind of doting and adoration that frightens eligible young ladies away, feeds the stereotype of the monstrous mother-in-law, and makes the mother's home nearly impossible to leave. The kind of doting that will have a man living with his mom until he is 45. Essentially, the word means 'mamma's boy.'
Ever since a month ago when he was first tentatively placed in my class, J's mom has been a constant thorn in my side. Aside from being blinded by mother's love that her child can do or say no wrong, she is also ailed with the notion that no one can care for her 'baby' as well as she can. To make matters worse, her child actually has a medical condition, which allows her to make endless excuses for him and to create dozens of fictional other handicaps for him that she as a lone crusader must fight in order to get him the special things he needs.
The list of special requirements is seemingly endless. J has to take medication at 9 every morning so he must have his breakfast. Fair enough. However, mother and son arrive at school 20-30 minutes after breakfast is served, she manages to have breakfast given to J anyways (in spite of the school policy that breakfast ends at 8:00).. This sets off a whole chain of events. J eats late, so he misses the first 1/2 hour of school, he is unable to finish his morning journal, so he completes it on the bench during recess (as per our classroom policy). As a result, J starts to tantrum and complains of a headache. A headache is supposed to be the unquestioned 'sign' that he might be getting a seizure. We must send him to the office, where he calls his mom and gets immediately picked up.
For a while, she was actually bringing him to class to help him get settled. She would stand in the back of the class and yell at him to do things. He constantly turned around, yelling "mommy, look...." or coming to her with minor scrapes for her to tend to. She would pull out her phone and make some calls, occasionally putting the call on speaker phone, for the benefit of all my other easily-distracted students to hear. She questioned all of my policies in front of the class, asked loudly why I hadn't called on him right then, wondered (again loudly) why I had asked her son to tuck in his shirt, but not another student. I was under her mama bird microscope and she was getting satisfaction from picking at me and fulfilling what in her view must be her motherly role- the unequivocal protection of her 8-year-old 'baby.'
Things reached a breaking point one day when after coming in 20 minutes late, heckling me from the back of the classroom, loudly disrupting and speaking on her cell phone, it was time for my students to bring their morning journals to the front of the class and read their entry to the other students. Due to all of the to-do that morning, J had not finished his journal and knew that he would have to complete it at recess. Thus began and ugly display of huffing and crying. Without missing a beat, Mama Bird swooped down, petting him, and questioning my policy of having kids complete their work at recess. I felt myself getting warm and angry. I looked at the mother and said, "This, is too much right now," designating the whole situations with my hands. "Why don't you just do your job and teach the class. Just teach the class," she said in a chilling voice. It was more than I could handle and all I could do to stay polite. I turned got on the phone and asked to speak to the principal. The principal asked me to ask the mom to come talk to her. After I did so, the mom stayed and glared at me for several minutes before leaving the room.
As a result of that morning's clash, a meeting was called with me, the mother, and the principal. In the meeting, the mom explained how hard she worked to be an advocate for her son and was concerned for all of his health issues. I tried to plead my case in telling her that she should allow her son to be more independent, that he needed time to establish himself in the new classroom and accustom himself to me as his teacher and to his new environment.
She didn't like the fact that I didn't let kids sharpen their pencils during class and wanted to make sure that I provided 'razor sharp' pencils for her son. "He only works if his pencils are razor-sharp. It's his thing," she insisted, "When he's at home, he does not do his homework unless his pencils are razor-sharp. He sits and keeps sharpening his pencils."
Listening to her made me want to slap some sense into her. I felt like yelling, "He only says that because you let him get away with it, you idiot! It's not a condition!! He also avoids doing his homework that way!! Why are you so blind??" Instead I told her that the pencils in my class were of a 'normal' sharpness and that he didn't seem to have a problem with that and completed his work in spite of their butter knife point.
After about 40 minutes, the meeting ended. My principal (who had mostly sat there quietly) ended up convincing the mother to not come into the classroom, but promised her that I would think of ways to "include" her in my classroom (something that I had previously told my principal I had no intention of doing). She also convinced her to bring him to school in time for breakfast. For several weeks, Mama Bird kept her distance.
Then, one morning, after breakfast, as all of the students funneled out of the cafeteria for the morning meeting, I asked J to throw away the remnants of his breakfast and go outside with the other students. He likes to waste time and looked at me smiling, unwilling to throw his breakfast away, standing over the trashcan with his tray in his hand. After asking him for the third time to throw it away, I took it from his hands and placed it in the trash. He began to walk outside, but was intercepted by Mama Bird, who pulled him over to comb his hair before she sent him on his way. She had seen me throw his breakfast away and she was not about to let that go.
As I took my class back in from the yard, she accosted me and began to have a "talk" with me in front of the whole class. She said that J and her were speaking last night and that he told her that I don't "appreciate him" in my class. I told her I was surprised and that I treated him no differently from the other students in my class. She insisted that I did and I told her that perhaps we could schedule a meeting to discuss it further. I reminded her that his IEP meeting was coming up and that if she wasn't satisfied with his current placement, we could explore other options. Again in her icy voice, she said, "Just do what I told you to do."
I felt a rage boil up inside of me and responded, "No, I will not." She insisted, "Yes, you will." To which I replied, "No. I. Will. Not." It may seem pretty childish to have responded that way, but there's only so much degradation I'm willing to take and I will only humble myself so much. There was no way I was going to let this mother order me to do her bidding (what she was bidding was in fact unclear), as if I was her maid, in front of my entire class. She pulled her son out of the line and stormed off, proceeding to badmouth me to anybody who would listen.
The thing that kills me about the whole situation is that her child is actually making improvements in my class. For two years, he has been frustrated in the general education classrooms and was starting to act out on a regular basis. He was constantly getting sent to the office and as a second grader, still didn't know how to read or write. In my class, he works all day (when she doesn't make an appearance), is making friends with the other kids, and seems to be generally happy to be in school. It seems almost as if she actually liked it better when he was failing and had to constantly fight and intervene for him- that it was a situation where she felt needed and important. Now that he is beginning to succeed and that I don't require her help with him in class, she possibly feels threatened that her role is being redefined.
As she explained when she was venting in the school's Parent Room, "Nobody can take care of my baby like I can." (The Parent Room is next to the room where my classroom para works in the morning. Since there are no doors and no complete walls anywhere, I got a detailed update of the events.) Two mothers who work at our school and who both have sons tried to reason with her, explaining to her that they had to learn to 'step back' and let the teacher take over once it was time for their boys to go to school. One mom explained that if she continued to do everything for J, he would be 45, jobless, and still living at home. Mama Bird, stood firm on her position. In trying to explain how well she takes care of J, she told all of the other moms that she even blow dries his socks and underwear before he puts them on so that they're warm. And that, pretty much sums it up right there. I couldn't make up things this crazy.
So, she's right, I will never do anything that is as disgustingly spoiling as blow drying his socks and undies. But, I will teach him to read and write. If only she'll let me.
Ever since a month ago when he was first tentatively placed in my class, J's mom has been a constant thorn in my side. Aside from being blinded by mother's love that her child can do or say no wrong, she is also ailed with the notion that no one can care for her 'baby' as well as she can. To make matters worse, her child actually has a medical condition, which allows her to make endless excuses for him and to create dozens of fictional other handicaps for him that she as a lone crusader must fight in order to get him the special things he needs.
The list of special requirements is seemingly endless. J has to take medication at 9 every morning so he must have his breakfast. Fair enough. However, mother and son arrive at school 20-30 minutes after breakfast is served, she manages to have breakfast given to J anyways (in spite of the school policy that breakfast ends at 8:00).. This sets off a whole chain of events. J eats late, so he misses the first 1/2 hour of school, he is unable to finish his morning journal, so he completes it on the bench during recess (as per our classroom policy). As a result, J starts to tantrum and complains of a headache. A headache is supposed to be the unquestioned 'sign' that he might be getting a seizure. We must send him to the office, where he calls his mom and gets immediately picked up.
For a while, she was actually bringing him to class to help him get settled. She would stand in the back of the class and yell at him to do things. He constantly turned around, yelling "mommy, look...." or coming to her with minor scrapes for her to tend to. She would pull out her phone and make some calls, occasionally putting the call on speaker phone, for the benefit of all my other easily-distracted students to hear. She questioned all of my policies in front of the class, asked loudly why I hadn't called on him right then, wondered (again loudly) why I had asked her son to tuck in his shirt, but not another student. I was under her mama bird microscope and she was getting satisfaction from picking at me and fulfilling what in her view must be her motherly role- the unequivocal protection of her 8-year-old 'baby.'
Things reached a breaking point one day when after coming in 20 minutes late, heckling me from the back of the classroom, loudly disrupting and speaking on her cell phone, it was time for my students to bring their morning journals to the front of the class and read their entry to the other students. Due to all of the to-do that morning, J had not finished his journal and knew that he would have to complete it at recess. Thus began and ugly display of huffing and crying. Without missing a beat, Mama Bird swooped down, petting him, and questioning my policy of having kids complete their work at recess. I felt myself getting warm and angry. I looked at the mother and said, "This, is too much right now," designating the whole situations with my hands. "Why don't you just do your job and teach the class. Just teach the class," she said in a chilling voice. It was more than I could handle and all I could do to stay polite. I turned got on the phone and asked to speak to the principal. The principal asked me to ask the mom to come talk to her. After I did so, the mom stayed and glared at me for several minutes before leaving the room.
As a result of that morning's clash, a meeting was called with me, the mother, and the principal. In the meeting, the mom explained how hard she worked to be an advocate for her son and was concerned for all of his health issues. I tried to plead my case in telling her that she should allow her son to be more independent, that he needed time to establish himself in the new classroom and accustom himself to me as his teacher and to his new environment.
She didn't like the fact that I didn't let kids sharpen their pencils during class and wanted to make sure that I provided 'razor sharp' pencils for her son. "He only works if his pencils are razor-sharp. It's his thing," she insisted, "When he's at home, he does not do his homework unless his pencils are razor-sharp. He sits and keeps sharpening his pencils."
Listening to her made me want to slap some sense into her. I felt like yelling, "He only says that because you let him get away with it, you idiot! It's not a condition!! He also avoids doing his homework that way!! Why are you so blind??" Instead I told her that the pencils in my class were of a 'normal' sharpness and that he didn't seem to have a problem with that and completed his work in spite of their butter knife point.
After about 40 minutes, the meeting ended. My principal (who had mostly sat there quietly) ended up convincing the mother to not come into the classroom, but promised her that I would think of ways to "include" her in my classroom (something that I had previously told my principal I had no intention of doing). She also convinced her to bring him to school in time for breakfast. For several weeks, Mama Bird kept her distance.
Then, one morning, after breakfast, as all of the students funneled out of the cafeteria for the morning meeting, I asked J to throw away the remnants of his breakfast and go outside with the other students. He likes to waste time and looked at me smiling, unwilling to throw his breakfast away, standing over the trashcan with his tray in his hand. After asking him for the third time to throw it away, I took it from his hands and placed it in the trash. He began to walk outside, but was intercepted by Mama Bird, who pulled him over to comb his hair before she sent him on his way. She had seen me throw his breakfast away and she was not about to let that go.
As I took my class back in from the yard, she accosted me and began to have a "talk" with me in front of the whole class. She said that J and her were speaking last night and that he told her that I don't "appreciate him" in my class. I told her I was surprised and that I treated him no differently from the other students in my class. She insisted that I did and I told her that perhaps we could schedule a meeting to discuss it further. I reminded her that his IEP meeting was coming up and that if she wasn't satisfied with his current placement, we could explore other options. Again in her icy voice, she said, "Just do what I told you to do."
I felt a rage boil up inside of me and responded, "No, I will not." She insisted, "Yes, you will." To which I replied, "No. I. Will. Not." It may seem pretty childish to have responded that way, but there's only so much degradation I'm willing to take and I will only humble myself so much. There was no way I was going to let this mother order me to do her bidding (what she was bidding was in fact unclear), as if I was her maid, in front of my entire class. She pulled her son out of the line and stormed off, proceeding to badmouth me to anybody who would listen.
The thing that kills me about the whole situation is that her child is actually making improvements in my class. For two years, he has been frustrated in the general education classrooms and was starting to act out on a regular basis. He was constantly getting sent to the office and as a second grader, still didn't know how to read or write. In my class, he works all day (when she doesn't make an appearance), is making friends with the other kids, and seems to be generally happy to be in school. It seems almost as if she actually liked it better when he was failing and had to constantly fight and intervene for him- that it was a situation where she felt needed and important. Now that he is beginning to succeed and that I don't require her help with him in class, she possibly feels threatened that her role is being redefined.
As she explained when she was venting in the school's Parent Room, "Nobody can take care of my baby like I can." (The Parent Room is next to the room where my classroom para works in the morning. Since there are no doors and no complete walls anywhere, I got a detailed update of the events.) Two mothers who work at our school and who both have sons tried to reason with her, explaining to her that they had to learn to 'step back' and let the teacher take over once it was time for their boys to go to school. One mom explained that if she continued to do everything for J, he would be 45, jobless, and still living at home. Mama Bird, stood firm on her position. In trying to explain how well she takes care of J, she told all of the other moms that she even blow dries his socks and underwear before he puts them on so that they're warm. And that, pretty much sums it up right there. I couldn't make up things this crazy.
So, she's right, I will never do anything that is as disgustingly spoiling as blow drying his socks and undies. But, I will teach him to read and write. If only she'll let me.
posted by Ms. V @ 5:45 PM
4 comments
