It's more than hard

My children have completed 10 days of school.  In those 10 days of school, I have received the following:
5 discipline reports
3 calls home from the guidance counselor
2 bus reports
1 meeting with the guidance counselor

During the phone call today with the guidance counselor, she mentioned that we'd probably be getting another 2 bus reports as the bus driver had to walk Sam and Tom into school today for fighting with each other on the bus.

I often get asked what it is like to have children that have special needs.  "Hard" is the answer I usually give.  "Hard" doesn't really describe it though.  

I was a fairly well behaved child in school, pretty much the classic overachiever type.  I always did my homework, minded my manners, and played well with others.  Upon occasion, I would get into a little bit of trouble.  In my entire elementary school career, I had two detentions, one for talking during class and one for not minding a teacher's directions during recess.
Before having children, I always imagined that my children would turn out similar to me.  I imagined that their teachers would say the sorts of things that my teachers used to say about me.  I never once imagined what I have to deal with on a daily basis.

Back to school night is always a nightmare for me.  It never fails that when the teacher says "please find your child's desk," I will be sitting in my child's desk, right up next to the teacher.  There's always a mom or two who make jokes about how they hope they aren't the ones who have the naughty kid up front.  Then I have to sheepishly take my seat up front.  There is a big stigma and a negative perception that goes along with being the parent of the child that can't behave during class.  
It's more than just hard to be the parent of the child who stabbed another boy with a pencil on the third day of school.  It's not easy to have to talk with the teacher whom your child screamed at and called a stupid idiot the two days ago in front of the entire class. 

It's very easy to judge the parents of children like mine.  How we must not be loving them enough or maybe we are loving them too much.  How we must not discipline them enough or maybe we are so strict that the only time the kids can have fun is at school.  How we certainly don't seem to care because we haven't medicated our child to make him conform.  When classmates tell their parents about a boy throwing a fit during class and knocking over his desk, those parents tell the kids to stay away from that boy.

Well, that boy is my son.  And he is a beautiful and loving boy, but it's hard for him to show it sometimes.