My son went through some heavy bullying his sixth grade year (basically, he was hit every day and no one seemed to be able to stop it), so we transferred him to a Christian school. One that shares our beliefs and is the reason I piece together work at three different colleges as an adjunct trying to make ends meet. (Read: IT'S EXPENSIVE, YO).
But he's been fitting in there, making friends, adjusting. His grades are good, and the girls seem to like him too. (Heh, those girls. That's another post.) So he's looking forward to his yearbook, maybe for the very first time, and when it came yesterday, and the kids are excitedly turning to their class page, pointing fingers under gap-toothed smiles and bad hair days frozen forever, my son can't find his picture. Or his name. In fact, except for a random, tiny candid a page back (no name in sight) it's as if he never attended.
It made me angry. How difficult is it to double check a roster? How hard is it to notice you're missing an entire person?
But Jay is quiet, kind, and smart. He sighed and smiled, as if this was inevitable, expected. And that just made it worse, somehow. No one should expect to be forgotten. I guess I can take some comfort in the fact that his yearbook has no more room for signatures-- both inside covers are full. His new friends will not forget him, pic or no.
And I want to bring this full circle, share something I've learned... apply it all to the bigger picture, but being forgotten, or worse yet, having your child forgotten, just makes you annoyed.
So I guess I'll focus on the fact that he's here, with many years ahead of him (and I'll be on the yearbook staff next year-- no seriously), a healthy, happy kid, ours for five more years.