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#246424 - 08/24/08 07:40 PM Well duh!!!
WalkingSouth Offline
Member
MaleSurvivor

Registered: 08/30/05
Posts: 16264
I've no clue as to the veracity of the following story because I did find it "on the internet", but thought it amusing nonetheless. Here it is:

It all started shortly after my ill-fated Parent-Teacher Conference (as did my public school reputation for being unreasonable). Within a week of this conference, I received a phone call from said 'psychologist' requesting that I present myself in his office to discuss my daughter's 'problem'. When questioned, he indicated that the 'problem' was different than the one the teacher and I discussed (which was not addressing adults by first name), but coyly refused to 'discuss a situation of this magnitude over the phone'.

The following day, at the appointed time, I appeared with offspring in tow. Horrified looks resulted and said offspring was shuttled off to play in the gym. Apparently these discussions are SECRET.

He began by folding his hands on top of his desk and wearing his 'saintly, patient' expression. *This* is a man who has not only READ the psych books but *believes* them.

"Has Lauren appeared depressed or been behaving unusually at home?"

"No, she has not."

"Her behavior hasn't changed?!"

"No it hasn't. Pardon my abruptness, but precisely what are you driving at?"

He is now refusing to meet my eyes and fiddling with a paperclip on the desk. Hmmm. I should have trundled my copy of 'Body Language' along with me. He could have fidgeted and I could have merrily looked up all the underlying psychological causes.

"Well, erm...you see, Lauren is using only black crayon when she's drawing and studies have indicated that when this occurs the child is usually depressed and attempting to deal with repressed emotions."

"Ah."

At this point, I was having considerable difficulty repressing one of my own emotions....namely laughter. What rocks do these nitwits crawl out from under? Realizing that my original response would be a Bad Thing, I quickly pasted my Concerned, But Amused Parental Expression on and continued:

"Have you considered asking Lauren her reasons for using black crayon?"

Shock. Horror. Complete dismay. He actually began stammering. One does not ask the child. It could cause deep-seated emotional problems, stunt their growth, cause them to suffer from low self-esteem and possibly begin hanging about on street corners with gangs of second graders.

I excused myself from his office, ostensibly to collect myself, in actuality to collect my offspring from the gym. I arrived at said gym to find my depressed, repressed, emotionally devastated monster attempting to deal with her deep-seated frustration at not being able to reach the rings. Was she crying, fussing or sulking? Nope. She was trying to negotiate with the custodialdrone for a stepladder. At this point, I decided she was entitled to draw with black crayons the rest of her life, if that's what she wanted.

We meandered back to the office and I ignored the look of distress that was shot at me. I parked my recombinant DNA in a chair with orders to 'Behave like a lady.' (Yeah, I know. So sue me.) The conference resumed, this time I addressed my questions to Lauren.

"Lauren, Mr. Shit-for-Brains indicates that you only use black crayon when you're drawing."

"Yeah."

"Do you like drawing in black?"

"No."

"Then why do you do it?"

I was treated to the expression that is reserved for humouring slightly thick parents and watched as my offspring pasted on her Mom's Old Lady But Harmless Expression:

"They make us line up in alphabetical order when they pass out the crayons. And I'm always last in line...there's nothing left but black!"

I turned to witness what our psychological brainchild is making of all this. He has gone strangely quiet. Fine. This interview is over as far as I'm concerned. Although I confess, I couldn't resist lobbing one more over the fence at him.

"Thank you sooooo much for your concern regarding my daughter's emotional well-being. I suppose your job would be much easier if all depressions could be cured by simply starting the crayon box from the other end of the queue. In the future however, do you think you could at least ask her before you haul me in here?"

He managed to mutter something which I took for assent neither Lauren or myself has heard anything from him since.


_________________________
“Life’s journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting ‘Holy ____…! What a ride!’” ~Hunter S. Thompson

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#246463 - 08/25/08 10:42 AM Re: Well duh!!! [Re: WalkingSouth]
NY Daisy Offline
New Here

Registered: 02/29/08
Posts: 183
amusing story indeed!! being the mom of 4 kids, and them being at the end of the alphabet, I can see this happening.

Thanks for the chuckle. NYDAISY


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#246497 - 08/25/08 02:30 PM Re: Well duh!!! [Re: NY Daisy]
Leosha Offline
Member
MaleSurvivor

Registered: 06/18/03
Posts: 3614
Loc: Right here
I would be proud to be the keeper of the black crayon. And all the psychobabble mumbo jumbo can kiss my....black crayon.

Leosha

_________________________
Avatar photo in memory of my younger brother Makar.

"Human salvation lies in the hands of the creatively maladjusted."~~~Martin Luther King Jr., 1963

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#246515 - 08/25/08 05:37 PM Re: Well duh!!! [Re: Leosha]
mogigo Offline
Member
MaleSurvivor

Registered: 04/24/07
Posts: 1331
Loc: Colorado
On a more serious note, but along the same lines. My daughter was in the hospital a few weeks ago and she has scars on her arms from cutting. The doctor treated me like shit, I could see the look of disgust in his eyes. I felt like such a loser that I wasn't able to stop this coping she has but I've been there the entire time. It's been five years since her Mother abandoned her on my door step and 12 years since a babysitters son sexually abused her. Councelling, introducing her to the youth program of my support group, just being available to her, but I still felt like shit when that Doctor pre-judged me as the cause of my daughters issues. Even though he was wrong it still hurt that someone thought that I was an abuser.

I guess it's the way of things, this means this. Just felt like the same stuff when I disclosed, "naw, that couldn't have happened that way, you're a guy. You're an abuser not a victim".

Crummy

Stay strong
Mike

_________________________
Thriving

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#246516 - 08/25/08 06:00 PM Re: Well duh!!! [Re: mogigo]
dangal Offline
New Here

Registered: 02/09/08
Posts: 222
Loc: seattle area
Ohh mogigo, I'm sorry. That is terrible. It does feel awful when you are judged for someone else's deal.

My oldest child was adopted at birth. His birth mom drank and did drugs. My little boy has a long line of medical issues that he can thank his other mother for. We spend quite a lot of time at the Children's hospital in Seattle, which is a "learning" hospital...aka, residents....One day while waiting to see our urologist, the resident came in and she was, well, nasty towards me, all her questions were short and rude, and as I answered them she got even more horrible. I was sitting there trying to figure out what the Heck her f ing problem was. I was giving her all the answers to everything about what we had done to help our child through his issues, and it was pissing her off. I finally said "you know, I've done all I can for the little guy, I'm not sure, but I feel like there is something you are upset about." She then said, "Well don't you think you should do all you can considering what you did to him?"

Let me tell you what, I went through about 8 emotions in one second. Finally dawning on me that she thought I was the birth mom. Never bothering did she to go through the huge files numbering about 4 that would have told her he was adopted, but only looking back far enough to see what the reasons for all his issues were.

I had to compose myself quickly as my son was right there, I quietly told her that my son was adopted and to get out of my room...noooowwww. I then told the doctor that that girl better not ever work with us again and that EVEN if I WAS the birth mom, that was awful, clearly I'm a good mom. Clearly I'm sitting through yet another sunny day in a hospital doc's office, so my little boy can have a chance and her happy butt can't be respectful for 5 minutes to hear what is going on....

Sorry, you struck a cord.

You have a right to feel Crummy. It's a bad feeling. Being judged for what we DO do is bad enough....

_________________________
~Jen~
Life is to short to blend in

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