I.Got.Nothing.

This is a phrase I recently used in an e-mail to a teacher: "I.got.nothing." It was following a class where I had witnessed my sweet child behave in an undesirable, and yes, embarrassing way for which I had no explanation.

This child of mine is complex; one minute obedient and helpful, and in the next breath throwing a tantrum that takes us back five years. Okay, slight exaggeration, there's usually time to take more than one breath in between, it's just that we both seem to forget to breathe.

My message to this teacher was to apologize, first that the incident occurred - although this teacher previously has found it necessary to contend with my student, in this instance we were all blindsided and the behavior was more pronounced; and secondly that my presence did nothing to alleviate the situation, and so not only was the teacher caught by surprise, but the most help I could offer was to watch the downward spiral of my kid.

In addition to the obvious frustration of living in that moment, is all the history we have built in this class with this teacher. Just being in the class is a generous favor that the teacher has extended to us; this is an exception based upon our commitment to this process, and so we have had conversations centered around what our response should be: one of gratefulness, thankfulness, and taking advantage of this special opportunity. We want this to be a positive experience so that other students may be included in the future.

The underlying issue seems to be a simple lag in the maturing process. Where other children her age are able to make and keep friends, my girl has adopted a superior attitude with other kids which 'allows' her to direct and boss others; not a great first impression. Her motivation seems to be one of wanting to nurture and care for others; she loves babies and small children, but also likes that she is bigger, stronger, and smarter than they. So when someone she perceives as a friend does or doesn't do what he or she is 'supposed to' do, then my daughter goes into the immature tantrum and tears mode which only serves to drive the wedge between her and her friends deeper, as not many seven-year-olds know what to do when a peer exhibits that behavior.

So when some sort of correction occurs, it is met with a still-in-the-process-of-maturing attitude that says, "I know how to do it myself!" The way this attitude looked that day was: stomping feet, swinging arms, refusal to do the requested task - actually, a refusal to move in any directed way at all, under-the-breath mumbling while the teacher was talking, looking around to be sure that the other students had all their attention on her, glaring at me until I spoke to her, then the glare was replaced by tears. And all this with several other moms looking helplessly and sympathetically on, and the teacher - with eyebrows raised in question - seeking for any shred of a way out of the hole into which he felt us all sinking.

By that point, it was time for class to be over - whew! My girl and I walked to her next stop in school without saying a word; she knew better and so did I. Once I was alone with my thoughts about that situation, I replayed it to try to see what had been missed while in the thick of it. I couldn't name a trigger that had started the behavior, didn't understand the motivation behind it, and certainly wasn't sure how to reverse or even halt the negative behaviors. No matter how I turned and tilted it, what perspective I took, or how much I analyzed, it didn't make sense: I got nothing.

But even in the midst of it seeming and feeling as if I've got nothing, it becomes clear to me that I've got quite a lot: a sweet daughter who loves people and wants to please her teachers, the support and empathy of fellow moms, a teacher who wants to find ways to help my child to grow, and a family at home who will welcome us at the end of each day no matter how much nothing we have.