Let’s face it-EVERY SINGLE ONE OF US ARE FUCKING WALKING ZOMBIES…maybe you’re one of the lucky few who have ZERO clue as to wtf I am talking about? MAYBE, you’re someone who has been thinking that (secretly) & until this VERY second just hadn’t yet admitted it so it wouldn’t be “real”? OR you could […]
Let’s face it-EVERY SINGLE ONE OF US ARE FUCKING WALKING ZOMBIES…maybe you’re one of the lucky few who have ZERO clue as to wtf I am talking about? MAYBE, you’re someone who has been thinking that (secretly) & until this VERY second just hadn’t yet admitted it so it wouldn’t be “real”? OR you could be JUST LIKE ME. ODDLY, I feel like I am actually somewhere in that “middle” 🤔😮. We are TIRED AF, we feel like shit regularly, we forget every damn thing we shouldn’t and then some & most likely are (if not FULLY falling for them altogether) finding ourselves pausing long enough to at least skim & scan the overall articles of each & every damn “Get Thin Quick!” “Get More Energy!!” campaign in the hopes that one of them will result in a miracle of some sort.
I don’t care if you’re 400 lbs or 140lbs. It doesn’t matter if it’s losing a ton of weight or that fucking last 5-10 that REFUSES to fucking disappear-it’s all the same as attempting to win a marathon yet the groundwork simply doesn’t exist.
What I am saying is that if we wanted to run a race-we have the recipe in order to do so.
We would train, we would condition, we would know our distance required, we would then be aware of where exactly we’d be running with points being quite blatantly outlined along with damn banners, signs, whistles, escorts, etc. literally guiding us across the finish line.
What the hell happens when you are doing everything in your power to “train” or to strive to achieve the demands of running our day to day “marathon” more commonly referred to as “LIFE” & YET that path we must travel to FINALLY “cross the finish line” simply does NOT exist?
Wait…or maybe it doesn’t right NOW but WHAT IF IT CAN??
If I seriously see one more damn drink, shake, juice, meal, supplement, or fucking “miracle” advertised on social media or on some long ass annoying commercial that interrupts my Law & Order episode when I am ANNOYINGLY awake at 3am FOR NO REASON & trying to just get a little more sleep before the daily grind begins-I AM GOING TO GO ROGUE.
For those who don’t know-I had 1/2 of my thyroid removed 2 years ago due to a pretty massive benign nodule that was impeding upon my throat & neck resulting in simple odd irritations. I would wake up in the middle of a deep sleep just choking & coughing, my neck looked like I was on steroids, etc. Regardless, my thyroid levels have ALWAYS been “normal!” Ok! That’s a relief!! Fast Forward…
Ever since I’ve had Violet (Summer 2015), I have just been “off“. My anxiety has steadily gotten worse & worse (I’ve adjusted meds accordingly but went over a decade on the same med & dosage until I got pregnant with Graham(I took ZERO meds aside from prenatal with him & felt ZERO need for any!! Thank you, hormones!) but SLAMMED into a brick wall of sheer HELL that DEFINED anxiety at exactly 2 months postpartum. Once I restarted my Lexapro at that point, I had to increase (from my pre-pregnancy dosage) very shortly after & probably 2 more times until I was pregnant with Violet. I took Zoloft with Violet. EXACTLY 2 months following her birth-HELLO ANXIETY. Even despite being on my Zoloft all along-I was crippled by my anxiety. NOT depression. 100% ANXIETY. My Doctor realized it was time for some stronger shit & just put me back on my pre-pregnancy dose of Lexapro but we found that, again, I was in need of a raise fairly soon after restarting the med. Since Violet, I’ve had to adjust my dosage 2 times. She’s 3. As you can gather, it’s getting increasingly closer together that I am in need of an increase. My anxiety is more rapidly beginning to suffocate my entire being.
Clearly, having TWO vs one child is more difficult. I get all of the various variables attributing themselves into the perfect equation to add to my issues BUT this is different. This isn’t even relevant to my kids. It’s just ME.
I had a tubal on the table following my CS with Violet (Graham’s vaginal birth is another topic for a different blog 😳) because I knew she was the icing on this family’s cake. DONE. Again, she is 3. I would say that over the last 3 years, my period has done nothing but get heavier & heavier & longer & longer & closer together EVERY SINGLE TIME! It’s AWFUL! I am lucky enough to get my “cramps” in my lower back so I walk like I have a stick up my ass & essentially do but it’s not up my ass but rather my vagina while I am trying to keep the worlds largest, most absorbent tampon shoved inside of me to attempt to simply remain accident free for at least an hour at a time.
The hair loss shit. Ok, I am not going to lie-I won in the hair genetic department (thanks, Dad) because I have a FUCK ton of it & it’s not anything like I am balding BUT I lose CLUMPS & HANDFULS MULTIPLE times each DAY. You should see the shower walls when I wash my hair. GOOD LORD. I really haven’t a clue as to how I still have this much hair!
Allow me to recap this fun stuff:
-I am just fucking running on empty 360/365 days/year.
-I haven’t woken up feeling refreshed or remotely rested in probably 4 years. I have to essentially “talk myself into” my daily activities & have lessened the standards of my daily accomplishments little by little!
-I can’t remember the last time I stayed asleep throughout the whole night. In fact, this has suddenly kicked my ass quite abruptly by going from the “normal” tossing & turning & noticing the clock maybe 3 or so times throughout the night to FULL BLOWN WIDE EYED & AWAKE ALL NIGHT 👀😳. I am talking about in the last month or two. Fun. Here’s the deal-I have NEVER EVER EVER had an issue sleeping. It’s SERIOUSLY one of my TOP 3 MOST FAVORITE things to do in the world! Ask ANYONE who knows me at all!
-Yes, I have been damn fortunate with weight. I have. I was a ballerina my whole life & that seemed to shape my body pretty damn well long after I retired my slippers & into even motherhood without working out or watching every morsel of food I touched. I CANNOT shake this pesky 5-8 lbs I don’t particularly care for on my torso & thighs (i genuinely do nothing to help it but I have not changed anything else about myself either?!). Wait-I don’t even give a shit about the lbs. I care about toning vs losing actual weight. I just don’t enjoy the requirements to obtain that result. BUT I HAVE NEVER HAD AN ISSUE BEFORE THIS!
-Wigs worth of hair being lost.
“Katie, good news! All of your hormone test results look perfectly normal!”
Dude, shit just got real today. I am NOT just losing my mind. I HAD A DOCTOR HEAR ME!
The test results are FASCINATING. All he did was tweak the specific type of test from my previous blood panels. Oh! And ADDED one little test. Something I had NEVER heard uttered from ANY other MD’s mouth. Even from my Endocrinologist “Specialist“.
>>>>IF YOU CAN RELATE IN ANY MANNER TO ANY OF THE ABOVE…PLEASE READ MY NEXT ENTRY. PLEASE. NOT FOR MY BENEFIT. FOR YOURS. <<<<
Dude, today was HARD. HARD. HARD.
WAY harder than most of my “normal” days where I am somewhat capable of at least getting through the daily grind (NEVER conquering or doing so without yelling, wanting to lose my mind, etc.) but rather something I can at least feel “OK” about when I place my head on my pillow at night.
I am going to get REALLY personal.
I have been taking Lexapro (my salvation) for around 10 years now. With the exception of taking ZERO, NADA, ZILCH while pregnant with Graham & then taking Zoloft with Violet-it has been my life line. Without it-I don’t think people understand the magnitude of my disability. And YES-this shit is a FULL disability. There is no difference between myself or one in a wheelchair when my brain begins betraying me & today was one of those days.
I am trying to determine whether or not todays battle was caused by a change in manufacturers of my medication or perhaps a need for a dosage alteration or a more overwhelming amount of stressors having occurred over these last few months OR the really fun one could be the potential that it’s D. All of the above! LUCKY ME!!
This happened to me about 6-8 months ago. Same exact thing. Definitely triggered by the fucking change in my medication manufacturer. It just “looked” different. Go ahead, argue it’s the placebo affect. Then, jump inside of my brain & in my body.
Allow for me to introduce the hell I experienced today that I literally could NOT STOP. I felt like a crack head just shaking internally. Only pacing calmed that inner fucking rat race of a battle within me where my body & mind are going 29384723mph yet accomplishing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. Now, imagine trying to not feel the guilt when you’re a stay at home mom who lives to be the best I can be as a Mama & your 3 yo is simply wanting to play tea party yet you can’t pull your own head out of your anxiety ridden asshole long enough to not look like you need to be committed. Tears streaming from my eyes, teeth chattering & the only way to calm myself was to take my “bandaid” of a 1/2 of a Xanax because I HAVE TO REMAIN RESPONSIBLE & FUNCTIONING BECAUSE I HAVE MY LITTLE BABIES FOR WHICH TO CARE!
I CANNOT EVER LIVE IN THE MOMENT. WHY? WHY CAN I NOT SIMPLY ENJOY THE SIMPLE THINGS?!
I could hardly make it through the damn car line pick up at school without feeling as though my body was actually eating through my skin-cell by cell-layer by layer. I am this physical skeleton just smiling this empty smile to the only little creatures I would rather die than EVER be fake or not give my absolute all. Believe me- I am NOT striving for perfection.
I JUST WANT FOR ONE DAY TO FEEL LIKE THOSE MOMS WHOM DESPITE THEIR DAILY STRUGGLES ARE STILL ABLE TO TAKE WITH THEM MAJOR MOMENTS. MOMNTS I CANNOT ENJOY. EVER.
I am always so busy trying to logistically get from one point to the next just so I can curb any potential of my kids remotely causing me to have a feather ruffle since EVERYTHING secretly makes me feel so overwhelmed that I am NEVER allowing us to. Just fucking LIVE!
I realize that all moms have their headaches & their battles but I can ASSURE you-this isn’t NORMAL. Not to mention, the saddest part is that this is the most “normal” (with the exception of today’s medicinal mishap) I have had the capacity to feel. It’s SO maddening. It’s SO shitty. It’s SO unfair to my little people who deserve SO much more! Yes, I’ve somewhat buried the hatchet with that never being this mom but days like today take me to a different level of grieving.
I FULLY realize we are NOT perfect nor should we strive to be so. I also know that I am just NOT the norm. I don’t function like other people & I know people are full of shit in a lot of their portrayals but I am also very capable of weeding through that bs.
I don’t want my babies wishing I were that mom who took them to the park more (yes, I DESPISE heat & mosquitoes) or stopped for Froyo more or even just took them inside more places vs doing the drive thrus. I mean, they definitely always will wish for those things but I am also genetically disposed to all things convenience! HA!
I am NOT convinced there is any permanent solution. When I finally get on a role with my medicinal cocktail-it’s only a matter of time until my clock strikes midnight & that medicine turns me into a pumpkin.
I HAVE A REAL ILLNESS. IT’S A CHEMICAL IMBALANCE. IT IS TORTURE. I REALIZE MY LIFE COULD BE SO MUCH WORSE BUT YOU ALSO HAVE NO IDEA OF THE TORMENT ANXIETY ENTAILS.
HELP SOMEONE WITH ANXIETY. REACH OUT TO THEM. SHARE YOUR STORY. WHAT HAS WORKED FOR YOU?
Endlessly rearing it’s ugly ass head yet pretending I am fine.
Endlessly making me question my most stable being yet 100% in question.
Endlessly feeling the hamster on that fucking wheel in my core but winning the “Oscar”for my acting to look the opposite.
Endlessly wondering why my stomach just feels so “weird” while knowing it’s because of nothing more than my nerves.
Endlessly wondering why I can’t accomplish jack shit because I am too busy fucking PACING from room to room in order to keep the panic from actually CRIPPLING ME FROM EACH ACTUAL STEP.
WHO AM I KIDDING?
I AM YOUR VICTIM. I surrender.
I FIGHT EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING. I WAS BORN A FIGHTER.
I have NEVER fought my anxiety. I NEVER denied my anxiety. It is too damn much.
I JUST DIDNT KNOW WHAT IT WAS!
I JUST DIDNT KNOW WHAT IT WAS!
I was SO taken aback & SO baffled as to why my entire being changed in an instant. It left me ZERO choice from which to stand. It decided my position on my behalf. I had no say.
It’s worse than not breathing.
It’s worse than failure.
It’s worse than drowning.
It is watching all of the above actually occur with your eyes wide open & with complete understanding yet with sheer paralysis. The inability to physically breathe, move, speak & even blink.
Moments are not moments. Sheer survival takes precedence.
That piece of art, “Scream” (not to sound horribly cliché) tends to come to mind. It’s screaming so loudly no one can actually hear. It must be of dog pitch sound. It’s a desperation most cannot fathom or contrive.
The level of loneliness is unfathomable. It’s so lonely. It’s so sad. It’s not depressive for me because I am GENUINELY NOT a depressed person. I am tormented. Tormented in SUCH a different realm….
My babies can be playing in my beautiful backyard. The grass is crisp green, the sky is crystal clear blue & my kids (7 & 3) can be playing as though Hollywood has cast them for these perfect roles in a Lifetime Movie.
I AM MISSING THESE MOMENTS.
ANXIETY DOES NOT DISCRIMINATE.
LIFE CAN BE PERFECT. PICTURES CAN BE PERFECT. MOMENTS CAN BE PERFECT.
ANXIETY DOES NOT DISCRIMINATE.
ANXIETY IS MY STALKER. I AM ITS PREY. IT ATTACKS MY EXISTENCE. IT RUINS MY EVERY MOMENT OF HAPPINESS. MY SANCTITUDE. MY SMILES. MY BEAUTIFUL MEMORIES. MY PEACE.
IT EATS ME ALIVE.
IT EATS ME ALIVE.
PLEASE. SOMETHING STOP IT. 🙏🏼
Phew! ROUGH CITY lately. Allow me to preface to these I haven’t somehow bitched to in some manner-we are moving. SHOOT ME.
MOVING BLOWS. Actually, allow me to rephrase that-SELLING your house BLOWS.
Again, for anyone who knows me-I LOATHE moving. I’ve moved TWENTY TIMES since I was 18. No, not with my parents. 1000% self inflicted. Sort of. I will spare you the details.
MOVING WITH KIDS IS STRAIGHT UP HELL.
HELL. My poor kids are looking at me like I have 827262 heads & at this point, I may. Don’t get me wrong. We LOVE our home. We LOVE our lives. Simply stated-all things point to this direction.
Crazy enough, it’s essentially me coming full circle. CRAZY! When I was 15, my parents decided to announce we would be moving in 3 months to GA. I grew up in PA. We vacationed in GA my entire life but this was just fucking CRAZY!
The very place we made the most magical memories had instantly become my hell. I was 15! Who wants to move 1000 miles away at 15?!
Yes! I am fully bitching about this & I FULLY realize that people have MUCH bigger problems than this but I remind you to please reacquaint yourself with your 15 yo self & then we can chat. MOVING IS HARD!
As much as I loathed my parents (that’s another story for another time) for ripping me from my friends…nearly TWENTY YEARS LATER, this Mama is finding solace in something I once viewed as hell on earth.
It’s so funny how life can come full circle. I am yearning for something to feel familiar, safe, known, yet challenging, different, exciting & where I can TRUST to raise my little beings.
Pretty crazy how shit changes.
With the exception of our dream home turning into a fucking museum in order to “show” our “home” to a bunch of strangers in the hopes of someone “picking me” is revolting. This is our home. This is where my babies play! This is where we LIVE! We have raised babies, puppies, piglets & goats! We have made more memories here than we can count or possibly recall!This home of ours has been the root of our worst, our best, our ugliest & our most astounding of all experiences.
It’s hard to NOT take it personally. Some stranger waltzing through your home you’ve made a showcase of sheer perfection for their 15 min of attention whom suddenly has the “right”to judge your existence? Nauseating. That couldn’t be less “Me”.
I am who I am. What you see is DEFINITELY what you get! I am not here to get others approval nor do I ever care…
This is SO hard! I am at another persons mercy! I am begging for another souls approval! I MUST win this popularity contest! Ahhhh!
REMIND ME TO NEVER EVER LIST ANOTHER HOME!
I thought this shit ended in high school! Apparently, I was very wrong. When all of this is said and done, I can only pray someone else who “picks us” is as in love with these walls of this home where they make the vast memories (both incredible & not so incredible) as we have over these last 6 years. I like to think “Birds of a Feather will Flock Together!” & maybe that will prove itself in whomever decides to fall as madly in love as we have.
In the meantime-PLEASE say a prayer for me. Keeping a home immaculately perfect with ZERO being off limits (your normal stashing spots/hiding places) is just too much. I hide my dogs, kids, pig in my damn car along with contractors trash bags (THINK BODY BAG SIZE 👀) full of both clean & dirty laundry I simply cannot stash elsewhere. It’s too much. Our closets look like something in a magazine. We are NOT magazine people. I race around 20 seconds before we all huddle into my car & hand pick the damn tumbleweeds of Fletcher’s “non-shedding Goldendoodle” hair floating around each furniture leg, each hallway corner, under every table & for a REALLY fun time-MY ENTIRE CAR! I am LOSING MY DAMN MIND.
Our house will sell in time. I am sure it will. In the meantime, we are in complete limbo with school starting in exactly one month. I suppose the stars will soon align. Until then…
Share your story. Tell your truth. Whether it be the bullied or the bully. We want to hear it. We want to understand it. We want to MOVE FORWARD.
Don’t Raise The Bully. Don’t allow them to be above anyone or anything. Most of all-STOP it before it even can begin. Just be the difference.
“Mom, why doesn’t he get in trouble & if I did what he does, I’d be in SO much trouble?”
How do I explain to my 6 yo that the kid is a legit ASSHOLE? NOT to mention, so is the school at that point.
Allow me to elaborate briefly:
My son is was in Kindergarten in a “highly rated” public school right next to our neighborhood. EVERYONE raved about this school & I just figured I’d end up doing the same. Graham is quite “typical” & really has been a dream in a school setting while saving his terrorism for his time at home with me! When he began Kindergarten, I automatically assumed that would remain the case other than some minor adjustments such as riding the bus, the longer days, etc.
BOY WAS I EVER WRONG!
Ch ch ch ch changes were occurring all around us at the time in which Graham began Kindergarten. Violet was only about 3 months old & I simply figured that Graham was upset at the thought of me essentially spending the entire day at home with her while he’s “missing out” & going to school.
HE WAS NOT ADJUSTING. AT ALL.
He isn’t one to advertise his feelings & therefore it felt like fucking retrieving breadcrumbs from Hansel & Gretel. FOR SEVERAL MONTHS! Religiously, I would go through the list of questions one would ask if trying to solve this problem:
“Do you like your teacher?” ……”Yes, Mom!”
“Do you like school?”…….”Yeah”
SOMETHING was VERY wrong.
After a few conversations with both his teacher & the “higher ups,” I was hearing the SAME thing REPEATEDLY…”It’s a HUGE adjustment & it takes time!”
Then Christmas came.
Graham was VERY “off”. We were all sick as hell, our house had flooded due to a pipe bursting & we were forced to rent a home where we would ultimately spend our Christmas.
Chaos was erupting.
I was (completely my fault) at the mercy of the holidays, the last minute relocation, etc. Shit was rough. The last thing I was thinking about was some little fucking twerp tormenting my son. BUT what I did notice was Graham began REALLY stuttering. I blamed it on exhaustion, us being so incredibly so unsettled, etc. It wasn’t until Jason said to me,
Babe, I got him red sneakers for Christmas because he keeps telling me this kid in school told him that’s what it would take to make him his friend.
To know Jason is to love him. Just like Graham, Jason doesn’t exactly spill his feelings on a regular basis. Needless to say, they had had quite a few conversations regarding this kid due to Graham begging Jason to buy him specific things the kid “required” in order to obtain his prized friendship. Jason was over it. Told Graham regularly that that was ridiculous, he has amazing sneakers & that no real friend would ever “require” him to wear specific items in order to be his friend, blah blah blah.
My solution was to invite this kid to play at our house.
Keep your friends close & your enemies closer.
That’s how I was going to roll.
I invited this kid to our home because I needed to get a load of his action. I did. Full force. The kid was a fucking brat. Appalling. Listen, I was not raised with angels. My brother was a CHALLENGE. I get challenges. This kid was cruel. He preys on the “weak”. Or perhaps just the more kindhearted.
BY NO MEANS is my little man some 1000% innocent soul. I am FULLY willing to look within & quite aware of Graham’s tactics; however, I am also NEVER going to allow some kid to treat my kid like dirt. Period. He was bigger than Graham (nearly one year older), the 2nd of 4 boys & CLEARLY not raised with a father figure in sight on a regular basis. I summed him up in seconds upon him wrestling my son to the ground. Truth be told-I actually called in our Winston (Graham’s BFF/equally fiercely protective Goldendoodle AND Graham is the oldest with only a baby sister in our home) to put this kid in his place because NOTHING was fair about him. NOTHING.
Graham was VERY submissive to him. My Graham. My little bull. My little old man. You MUST know that Graham is a fierce little being in his own right but ONLY when necessary. He hasn’t a clue of his own strength. The child is abnormally strong. #truth.
THIS WAS VERY DIFFERENT.
I was BEYOND lucky that his bus stop was literally in our driveway. That being said-at 2:53 pm EVERY school day-I simply opened my front door & listened for the bus. I was HORRIFIED by what I saw.
His face was battered, bruised & bleeding & I was taken aback.
What happened, honey?
What happened, honey?
“I TRIPPED & KICKED MYSELF IN THE FACE, MOM! I AM FINE!”
A ND S. C. E. N. E.
A ND S. C. E. N. E.
Wait a damn second-HOW CAN ONE KICK THEMSELVES IN THE FACE?
This story continues & gets rather interesting.
Upon much coaxing, I was FINALLY able to unveil the play by play version from Graham:
A kid kicked him in the face. On purpose. WHILE HE WAS KNOCKED DOWN ON THE GROUND. Sucker kicked, if you will.
Following this confessional, Graham FINALLY was able to spill it. EVERYTHING. It was DISTURBING. It was HUMILIATING. It was SHAMEFUL of me as a parent to somehow not have been privy to even suspecting. It was WRETCHED.
I, IMMEDIATELY email the teacher asking WTF was happening. She IMMEDIATELY responds with her cell number & asking for me to please call her. I gathered my composure. It was NOT easy.
>>REMEMBER, I AM FIERCELY PROTECTIVE, BY NATURE.
Katie, I saw Graham fall & asked him if he was ok or needed to see the nurse & he didn’t even hear me ask him so I figured he was completely fine!”
HIS FACE IS BLEEDING & LOOKS LIKE HE HAS BEEN BEATEN TO A PULP & YOU THINK A FIVE YEAR OLD SHOULD JUDGE WHETHER OR NOT HE SHOULD BE SEEN BY A NURSE?
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU??
Following the sheer shock of the situation & when I was “able” to “compose” my thoughts, I was oddly calm. ESPECIALLY for me. Oddly. Eerily.
That’s when shit gets brutal.
She tells me her version of the story to which I am INSTANTLY skeptical. She isn’t the most attentive appearing individual. I ask her more about the particular incident. She was fucking clueless. She was lying through her teeth & was clearly not there. It was as though she was reading a script & that script was via assistants. None of whom I had ever even met nor known their damn names yet they were the souls responsible for protecting my son unbeknownst to me.
Katie, boys will be boys! You have to roll with the punches! These things are going to happen!
MY KID WAS KICKED IN THE FUCKING FACE.
I get it’s public school & all but according to even the principals-“All teachers are required to remain outside during recess to supervise their particular grade. ” Bull.
I IMMEDIATELY demanded a meeting with the principal. Shit was USELESS. Did ZERO.
Should I notify the parents that their kid is an ass or would you like to have the honors?
Jason & I met with the principal & he played the part. Oh so shocked & dumbfounded. Made Graham the “Student of the Week”. Graham was a full grade behind academically. Graham was YEARS behind emotionally & his self esteem was nonexistent. This past year was a complete WASH. If anything, Graham had gone backwards. This was NOT going to just disappear.
They. Did. Nothing. Zero. Nothing.
I BEGGED. I PLEADED. I THREATENED PULLING GRAHAM & YOU NAME IT. ZERO.
I pulled him. February 2017.
It took ONE kid. ONE kid to wreck EVERYTHING I have worked so hard to achieve. ONE SINGLE ASSHOLE.
THIS HAPPENED TO MY SON.
SHAME ON YOU PUBLIC SCHOOLS. SHAME ON YOU FOR NOT PROTECTING MY CHILD & FOR PROTECTING THE FUCKING BULLY. SHAME ON YOU FOR NOT FIXING THIS SHIT & BEING MORE WORRIED ABOUT BACKLASH FOR THE BULLY OVER THE VICTIM BEING BULLIED.
SHAME. ON. YOU.
Graham is NOT the first & sadly, he will not be the last. I am disgusted to report that since Graham’s departure from this particular school, I have heard about several other children experiencing similar situations & with this same particular teacher. WHY?