Doing the dance of joy,

and singing the Doxology.

It might be sacrilegious, but it's what I've been doing since last Friday.

See, that horrible situation I was in with the parent? You know, with the psychotic kid?

Well, something happened, and they withdrew him from school on Friday.

We don't really know what happened. All I know now is that the child will hopefully get the help he needs, and I personally will not have to deal with his crazy mother or his "educational therapist."

The last conversation I had with her, the therapist, had to do with my student's missing work. I sent an email to her last Monday, a holiday mind you, stating that I needed to check the student's work, and that I hadn't received his response to literature essay that had been due 5 weeks earlier. I had given him three extra weeks, but still, nothing.

I got a call from her Tuesday morning:
"Hello Ms. Teacher, I was just calling to make sure psychotic student has completed all his work."
"Oh, hello ridiculous excuse for a tutor. Didn't you receive my email yesterday?"

"Yes, but I think he's finished everything."
"Okay, but I'll need to see it so I can enter it in my grade book. Did he finish that essay?"
"What essay is that?"

You get the picture. I needn't go on.

Because as much as I feel for the boy, I can't even come up with words to express my happiness and relief for not having to deal with his other adults anymore.

Now if I can just get caught up on grading.


Cheers.