Page 14 of Echoes of Obsession
“You mean to tell me that you want to hinder my daughter’s education because you don’t have time to eat a snack?” I ask, my blood boiling.
“Her education won’t be hindered,” he rushes to say. “Our special needs teacher is wonderful. She will be able to give Zoe the attention she needs to get through the lessons.”
“I’m sure she is,” I grit. “That’s not the point. My daughter does not need to be in a special needs class. What she needs is accommodation, not segregation. She needs an inclusive learning environment where her needs are met without compromising her academic potential. If you’re unable to provide the necessary support, I’ll explore other options, but moving her to a special needs classroom is not one of them.”
“It’s out of my hands,” he says. “There are no other options. She started today. If you’ll follow me, I will introduce you to her teacher.”
“What do you mean she started today?” I seethe, my anger simmering beneath the surface.
“You’ve made this decision without even consulting me? Without giving me a chance to discuss it with my daughter? This is unacceptable.”
“I understand your frustration, Ms. Clarke,” the teacher responds, maintaining a calm demeanor. “But please believe me when I say this decision was not made lightly. We want what’s best for Zoe, and sometimes that means making difficult choices. Our special needs program is designed to supportstudents like her in reaching their full potential. I’m here to help facilitate a smooth transition for Zoe and address any concerns you may have along the way.”
I’m stunned silent as he knocks on a door. My vision is a haze of red, and I don’t even notice when the door opens.
“Ms. Clarke, this is Ms. Burton, our special needs teacher.”
I have never in my life wanted to throat-punch someone as strongly as I do right now.
“Snow?” someone says. “I mean, Amara? What are you doing here?”
When willpower doesn’t seem to work when it comes to murdering someone, I look away from the man and towards the new teacher.
“Oh,” I say. “Uhm. Maddy, right? Your kids go here, too?”
I know that was a stupid question, considering it’s the only school in Harborbrook.
“Actually, I’m a teacher,” she smiles. “I teach the special needs class.”
“Oh,” I repeat. “That’s pretty cool. But my daughter doesn’t need to be in a special needs class.”
“Zoe’s mom?” she smiles. “She’s so lovely. Such a sweet girl.”
“Thanks.”
“Come on in and have a seat, Amara. Thank you, Mr. Brown.”
I look around and groan.
“I know,” Maddy laughs. “These chairs are not meant for big ladies like us. But they’ll hold. I sit in them every day.”
Taking her word for it, I pull out a tiny chair and have a seat.
“I’m conflicted,” I admit, petting Sky as he settles at my feet.
“I understand,” she says. “And to be frank, I agree with you. Zoe does not need to be in a special needs class. Especially one that caters to all elementary grades. I am equipped to teach her the lessons from her grade, but she won’t be challenged in here.”
“I don’t know what to do,” I sigh. “I could pull her out and see about enrolling her into a private school, but I just don’t think I’ll be able to afford that.”
“I argued with the board about moving her here,” she admits. “I was dead set against it because, as you know, she doesn’t need the extra help that I’m trained to give. What she needs is an interpreter.”
“Mr. Brown says that it’s not an option,” I tell her.
“No, because our school is too busy shoving that budget into the football team’s needs,” she seethes. “I used to love working here, but this past year, we’ve had new members in control, and apparently, their priorities revolve around sports and not education. I swear, if it weren’t for these kids, I wouldn’t come back next year.”
“That bad?”
“And then some. But that’s neither here nor there. Let’s figure this thing out about Zoe.”