Friday, June 13, 2014

The Law of Taming the Red-Hot Dragon

The tiny sound of fire alarm battles valiantly against the red-hot dragon breathing smoke and fury for the control of my hand which now hovers over the receiver.

I visualize about two dozen other parents of the 5th grade students at this very moment receiving the same letter, the red-hot dragons breathing down their necks while the voices of their children are wailing in the background.

Through the fog and smoke I somehow manage to remember that every time in the past I allowed the red-hot dragon to win and its noise and heat to drown the quiet, persistent sound of fire alarm, things didn’t turn out that great.

But there is a magnetic field drawing my hand towards the receiver. I tell my legs to move away but they refuse. I order my legs to move away but they feel like they are made of lead. Nevertheless, I somehow manage to move them a millimeter away from the phone. The millimeter feels like a mile.

I consider suggesting that the school adds an anger management class to the core curriculum… for students AND for parents.  But, that is not going to help me this very moment.

I drag my feet for about  347 miles in the opposite direction from the phone and collapse in a heap on the floor.  I still feel the burning heat but the fog clouding my thinking isn’t as thick.

I spend a restless, sleepless night in prayer to the Almighty God alternating between reciting Psalms of unmitigated fury and meditating what I wish I could do to the person who signed the two letters and her supervisor.  By the time the dawn cracks on the horizon, I am so exhausted I fall into fitful sleep. 

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