Little Red Schoolhouse

The good news is that yesterday I went to visit a possible school for Sophie to attend in the fall. The school is an all special needs kid institution-like place, the only one in the city that I haven't visited (and after visiting said schools, I generally open my car door, sit down and rest my head on the steering wheel while sobbing either quietly -- the early years -- or dramatically -- the current years). So, in anticipation, I wore a bullet-proof vest to protect my heart, a leaden hat to keep my wayward thoughts inside, and wings of foil to escape or foil) despair. My good friend Suzy C. again took pity on me and came along for the ride.

Guess what happened?

The school was GREAT! There were lots of trees and grass everywhere; the halls were open and wide and very clean. The teachers were calm and the young people seemed happy. There were no closed doors that when opened revealed rooms of young men spinning about or banging their heads against walls. There were no large posters from the 1970s anti-smoking campaigns of half-cancerous faced women with ash coming out of their mouths (I'm not kidding -- I saw it once at a middle school!). Instead there were happy posters on the walls and kids grouped in circles, working together. One large boy, or young man, sat at a computer playing guitar Hero and dancing in his seat. The teacher told us he was being rewarded for excellent behavior. Another young girl was dressed in traditional Mexican garb for the celebration later that day of Cinco de Mayo. She kept grabbing my hand and smiling at me.

I smiled back.

The woman who gave us the tour was a normal person.

Suzy C. and I marveled at everything.

I think I found a school for Sophie, and it has so completely surprised me that I might become an evangelical Christian.

Just kidding. (But I am grateful, feeling as if I've been touched, a bit, by grace).