When I was a sophmore in high school, there had been a mistake made when they enrolled me in classes and they put me in a sophmore-level class that I had taken my freshman year. Same teacher and everything. Mom called the school when I told her that my class schedule had me going to the same class that I had taken and passed the year before and was told that I couldn't have possibly taken the class my freshman year, because they didn't assign the class to *anyone* at a freshman level. Lo and behold, when the first day of the new school year rolled around, I *had* been in that class the year before and the teacher recognized me. It was only then that the office said that they must have been mistaken and that they would get me in a different class right away. Unfortunately, since the school year had already started, they only had openings in the remedial history class, but at least it was a class that I would be able to get credit for.
Near the end of the first half of the school year, that history class decided that we were going to be watching several rated R war movies (including We Were Soldiers and Saving Private Ryan) and we were supposed to complete worksheets and essays on the movies. Now, I get nightmares really easily and can't handle movies that are violent in nature, so I'd never been able to watch this kind of movie = and didn't want to. The first day of the Movie Marathon Week, I went home in TEARS because the movie had been so violent and grusome. Mom called the teacher and explained that these movies were bad for my mental health and trauma-inducing for me. The teacher wouldn't be moved on their stance though and told Mom that I would either watch the movies and do the work required, or I would fail the class. I was a good student and had never failed anything before, so I wasn't willing to just "fail the class." So, to help mitigate the trauma and the strong emotions that these movies invoked in me, Mom came to my history class every day while we were watching these movies and she would talk me through what we had watched that day after I got home from school. It helped. A lot. I still had nightmares, but she was always there to comfort me.
At the same time that I was in this history class, I was also placed into a general English literature class where they were reading Lord of the Flies (mostly aloud in class). After the first day, I was struggling to cope with the reading material. Mom was quite familiar with the book and so she talked to my teacher. Instead of forcing me to participate in the reading of this particular book (which would be making up most of the mid-term), my English Lit teacher provided me with another book to read and a mid-term that was about this other book instead. I don't remember the name of the book, but I do remember that it was not a terrifying read like Lord of the Flies and I was very grateful to my teacher for allowing me to read something that was less scary.
I am grateful that my mother cared about my mental well-being that she took the time to talk to these teachers and advocate for me - even if it meant that she had to work odd hours the entire week that we were watching those movies in that history class so that she could spend the time with me in the classroom to make sure that I felt comfort and safety and security. I will remember that week fondly and, even though I am not able to watch those movies, I will think about them fondly and remember the love and affection that Mom showed me by being there for me.
Mom, I love you. I miss you so much and I wish that you were still around so that your grandchildren could make memories with you and learn about you straight from the source. They would have loved their Nama as much as I did and do.
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