And this week was one helluva semester final! I’m not sure I understand all the nuances involved. Each of us walked away from the lesson with our heads spinning and trying to grasp the lessons each of us struggled with.

It started out on a calm Thursday morning. The hubby was off to work, the kids were corraled and taxied to school, and I came home to veg on the computer a little bit. The phone rang. Anyone who knows me knows I detest the phone. My reasons are many. The least of which is I resent that ring from dictating what I do at any given moment. My rebellious nature has been channeled into NOT picking up the phone when I’m busy, stressed, sick, tired, cranky, flustered with daily activities that is life with teenagers and their many friends who call. And call and call and call. I find myself playing secretary to Riley’s social life.

There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for Riley, Tayler or Robby. But playing secretary to their social lives is a pet peeve. Consequently, I find myself for the most part ignoring that ring more times than not. Much to the chagrin of my teens who feel that I should alert them with messages, and stop what I’m doing all day to answer their calls. This became much easier when Tayler received her own cell phone, and handled her own calls.

Riley, on the other hand, my new teenager who just started Junior High this year, is a different story. Not nearly ready for the responsibility that comes with carrying those life dictators known as cell phones. Thus I find my land line and even MY cell phone ringing for my youngest. Who up until Thursday afternoon usually has his head covered with ear phones as he plays one war game after another, online with other testosterone-ridden teens with the foulest potty mouths known to mankind.  I’m not going to blame what Riley did on his video games; but I can’t help but think that when you swim in shit, you’re going to come out covered in shit!

I’m not quite sure why I picked up that call that rang around 9:00 AM, but I did. Not recognizing the number, but seeing it as a local call, I picked it up. It was none other than Riley and Tayler’s Principal from their school. Again, anyone who has read me from the beginning knows I struggle with the varied escapades of my youngest. From kindergarten on, Riley has a knack for stepping into shit, also known as getting himself into trouble with his peers, teachers and inevitably the Principal of his school.

So when Principal B (Principal A is from elementary school and was someone we saw more than I see my relatives) called and announced who he was, I was calm as I waited to hear what Riley’s latest miss step involved. I admit to being thrown by what my sweet baby has managed to do this time. Which leads me to my latest lesson. Jr. High kids have no business going to school along side their peers of the opposite sex. From Jr. High through H. S. these adults to be should be segregated by their gender.

It seems that Riley had decided to seek revenge on his last “X-girlfriend” after she unceremoniously dumped him, and told him she only went out with him as a joke. She set him up, due to being a best friend with Riley’s previous “X-girlfriend,” whom he had managed to treat shabbily when he dumped her. As I write this, my thought is this is nuts! All this drama and angst that surrounded these kids in changing bodies and raging hormones. All of which could be avoided with the sexes seggregated.

One of Riley’s parting statements to (we’ll call her Delilah, for privacy and my insinuation regarding said little girl.) Delilah was, “I’m going to make your seventh grade year miserable for you.” And that is exactly what my focused offspring did for the last three weeks. I’ve raised my sons to understand and respect that you do not ever hit girls, for any reason. EVER. What I had managed to not get across is there are many forms of abuse and treating girls poorly, that doesn’t include physical violence.

For three weeks, he would get into her face and yell “loser” “freak” and a few reminders that yes he intended to make seventh grade miserable for her. He enlisted the help of a few buddies. Whenever he got wind that she liked another boy, he interfered with mean diatribe, name calling and turning his friends against her. He intercepted notes she would send to other boys (in the one and only class they shared together) and would read and keep them. Then he set out to make sure that boy would have nothing to do with her.

As anyone could predict, Delilah hit her limit with Riley’s harassment. And with Mom and tears went to the Principal. At this point, had this been my daughter who came home in tears over the harassment a 5’10” shaving boy had inflicted on her, I would be headed to school, gunning for bear!

That it was my son who caused this left me shocked, hurt, ashamed and bewildered. As the Principal unfolded this angst filled saga that had been going on for three weeks, I felt sicker and sicker. When I was informed that the on-site police officer would be handed the statements of all the kids involved, to see if he would pursue a criminal investigation, I could have just as easily spontaneously combusted on the spot. This wasn’t a school yard altercation, it was possibly a harassment charge, bordering on stalking.

I am thankful to Delilah’s mother, who had talked with the police officer and felt that pursuing a criminal investigation wasn’t necessary. She hoped that Riley learned from this incident, and just wanted her young daughter left alone. Having met Riley when he went to her daughter’s Birthday party, and knowing that he was well behaved, polite and kind to her daughter, as well as giving her lovely Birthday presents, I like to believe she knew Riley could learn from this without the added stigma of a harassment charge.

By the end of Thursday, I had literally spent hours on the detested phone, three times with the Principal and once with the police officer handling the situation. Although he wasn’t being charged, this was my first time as a parent (and prayerfully the last) having to deal with the police regarding one of my kids. As a parent, I’d have to say this was one of my worst days, as a parent.

On a side note; between the stress of the situation and my nerves being rattled to the core, the pain and exhaustion of Fibro set in as well.

My reasons for telling this story have more to do with Riley and his behavior. As we get ready to head into October, also known as Domestic Violence Awareness Month, I see this as a valuable lesson for parents raising sons, who hopefully will come away from childhood with a healthy and respectful attitude towards women. My main “ah-ha” moment was understanding and instructing my young son that there was far more to respect and kindness towards women than just not hitting them. Trying to teach him the mental and emotional harassment is just (or can be) as damaging as physical violence. Actually this was an opportunity for all three of his parents to wake up and realize we had much more instructing and directing of Riley and the paths he chooses to take, than what has been done.

Part Two: CONSEQUENCES