Recently, and believe me it is still stinging my eyes, one of my kids was labeled to be sent home this week. Your question is "What happened?" This is my story, and granted this situation is not a dire as most but I am still mad as a hornet.
I brought the kids to school, all is well until a phone call at 2:30 in the afternoon stating one of my small children has had an BM episode which soiled his clothes. Why pretty it up? He had a diarrhea episode. You know those mystical moments where a child's body for it's own reason has expunged what ever it did not want. Usually only one and then he moves onto bigger and better things. Kids, you never know what to expect and least of all try to mom diagnose why it has happened. Mostly I have ideas or theories but no solid proof.
So back to the phone call......
Please come and pick up your child.
I say I can not, and the other caretakers are unavailable. What is the problem?
Well he has had a diarrhea episode and you need to pick him up.
Does he have a fever?
Has he been eating?
Is he playing?
Is his demeanor changed from his normal personality?
Is he drinking?
Has he had another episode of diarrhea?
So why is he asked to go home? I was told if the diarrhea continued after one episode the child would have to go home. What happened?
It is our policy to sent kids home if they have diarrhea, because they are sick.
That is where the absolutism has arrived with both feet on my throat. I ask various questions in regard to past policy, explaining I do understand the kids must be protected from illness, however if he is not exhibiting any signs of illness in the past two hours, he is booted after the first "infringement"? Unbending and relentless are they to have me take my kid home. Not only did I receive one phone call, I received a second phone call from an even less informed manager. Same questions, and she thought I was supposed to be there to pick him up. I said have you even walked over to see him? She says no. Have you spoke to the other manager? No. Clearly no communication is taking place other than me quickly becoming irate. Don't placate me, I want honest answers. Even those answers I do not like I will accept if you are not trying to placate me with bull crap. I don't believe I am that unreasonable.
The next phase of this absolutism is the first manager trying to snow ball me into believing that she is not diagnosing my child as sick but when she smelt the odor from the diarrhea it smelt as though he was sick. I said you can't have it both ways, you tell me in the same breath you are not qualified to diagnose but you say it smelled of a sick child. At this point the kids probably should not sneeze for fear of going home. What happened to judgment? What happened to reviewing each situation for what it is? What happened to service?
As a parent of multiple children my workload ( I am not saying any other mom's workload is less, just different and just as important) is tripled, the necessity of having regular attendance at my job is important. I have no room for trivial or frivolous phone calls from caretakers who do not have the sense to look at the whole child and make a educated decision. Kids are not absolute in deed nor in health therefore policies in service industries should have a bit of wiggle room within reason. Look at each situation and evaluate, use the gifts that God gave you, well maybe I should say not everyone took the phone call that day when the sense was handed out, and learn about my kid. I do not bring sick children to school intentionally. I admit sometimes I miss the mark, but my point is every situation is different.
I am working up the courage to sit down with the director to voice my concerns as a parent and someone who pays a lot of money for service. I expect excellent service, not people who shuffle my children to others because they are bothered by the little surprises kids often leave for caretakers.
Anyway, this does not even come close to the whole story. Just frustrated and mad.
How can you let this little face go home?
This is him writing his novel.