Parents send their children to school, thinking they are in being taken care of, but that’s not always the case. These parents share the most ridiculous situation that happened at their child’s school. Content has been edited for clarity purposes.
“Both my husband and I have food allergies, as does my eldest child, ‘Kiddo.’ Prior to Kiddo starting preschool, I set up a meeting with the director and his teacher (‘Myrna’) to discuss his allergies in detail, and I also turned over various instructions and medications we hoped he would not need. Fortunately, none of his allergens are life-threatening, just miserable.
The director added my child and his allergens (along with three or four other kids and their allergens) to a set of posters affixed to the fridge, two cabinets, and the pantry door, all in large print and bright colors. They referred to these collectively as ‘The List.’ They assured me they have had kids with various allergies over the years, and ‘The List’ system had worked quite well for them. I was satisfied with their precautions, and I left the meeting feeling confident.
That feeling ended a few weeks later, when I was at work and got a phone call from Myrna.
‘Your child is sick, probably the stomach flu,’ she reported. ‘You need to come pick him up right away.’
I asked what symptoms he was having, and she replied, ‘He says he feels sick, his stomach hurts, he’s very tired, his eyes are red, and he has a rash.’
I was instantly suspicious. ‘That sounds like what happens when he’s having an allergic reaction. Could you give him his medication and see if that helps?’
Myrna became indignant. ‘No way is this Kiddo’s allergies. I would never let him eat anything that’s on The List. He’s sick. You need to come get him.’
So I left work and headed to the preschool. One look at Kiddo, and it was obvious he was having an allergic reaction. I gave Kiddo his medicine while Myrna—who was standing beside me—again protested that Kiddo was simply sick.
As Kiddo was putting on his shoes and bookbag, I went into the food area to investigate. Right there, out in the open, were several cantaloupe rinds and a melon baller.
I walked back to the pick-up area and asked Myrna, ‘Did you feed Kiddo cantaloupe?’
To which Myrna replied, ‘Yes, of course! It was today’s snack.’
I took a few deep breaths to remind myself there were children everywhere, and I should not indulge in my encyclopedic knowledge of the sort of colorful metaphors that once caused my aunt to ask when I had become a sailor and why did no one tell her I’d been out to sea.
When I felt prepared to go on without the sort of language that would make Andrew Dice Clay blush, I told Myrna: ‘Kiddo. Is. Allergic. To. Cantaloupe.’
Myrna went into the kitchen, yanked ‘The List’ off of the fridge door, and slammed it down in front of me. She then demanded I show her where cantaloupe could be found on ‘The List.’
That’s when I pointed to the line that clearly read, ‘No melons.’
Myrna’s face fell. The look of indignation was gone, replaced by utter confusion. She looked at ‘The List,’ then back at me two or three times before saying, ‘Cantaloupe’s a melon?!?‘”
“The Zero Tolerance Policy
“We had horses that were kept on 80 acres of leased property 15 miles from where we lived. One night the fence went down and I got a call that our horses were loose, so off to the pasture we went, including my 13-year-old son.
It was 11:30 at night in the middle of a torrential rain storm and it had taken us 4 hours to find the downed portion of the fence, get the horses back in and fix the fence. It was pitch black except for the lightning flashes and it took us forever to find the loose horses because they couldn’t hear us over the thunder and rain. We got home at midnight and everyone fell into their respective beds, exhausted.
At 6 am, my son grabbed the same jeans he’d worn the day before when he got dressed for school because they were handy and he was running late. He didn’t realize, until he was at school and in the first period, that the multi-tool he’d been using at the pasture was in his jeans pocket – a pair of fold-up pliers with other mini tools in the handle, including a tiny pocket knife. As soon as he realized this, he went to his teacher and told him he accidentally brought a multi-tool to school because he hadn’t realized it was in his pocket when he got dressed. He handed it over to his teacher.
I got a call that my son had been arrested for bringing a weapon to school. I immediately drove to the school and was confronted by cops, the principal, the school psychologist, and my hysterical 13-year-old who was scared and upset. I demanded to speak to my son alone and I took him into one of their offices.
He told me what had happened and I calmed him down. We went out to speak to everyone and I was shocked by the complete lack of common sense from the school and police. I explained to them exactly what happened: that my son did not mean to bring the TOOL to school and that the second he realized he had it, he turned it over to the teacher so he wouldn’t get in trouble. Instead, the teacher dragged him to the principal and the principal called the cops! According to them, the PLIERS weren’t the problem; it was the 1.5″ blade in the handle. Their zero-tolerance policy made these adults lose their damn minds.
A 4- month fight with the police, courts, and school board resulted in my son being on PROBATION for a year with a curfew AND expulsion from school for a year. He had to go to the ‘bad kids’ school in the area as it was the only school that would take him, so he got to go to school with kids who had been arrested for assault & battery, drugs, and all manner of behavior problems, and illegal behavior.
I was able to keep him out of Juvenile Detention, but it was a fight. All because the kid did the RIGHT THING and took the TOOL he accidentally had in his possession to the teacher the second he realized he had it with him. He didn’t even know the thing had a blade in the handle as he’d only ever used the multi-tool for the pliers.”
The Water Bottle Situation
“At the time of this story, my daughter was 13 or 14 years old. She was active in community theatre. One day she had a mild sore throat but was scheduled to be in a production that evening. She asked me if she could take a bottle of water to school, which seemed reasonable to me.
Mid-morning I got a call from the school. ‘Mr. Adolph, are you aware your daughter brought a bottle of water to school?’
‘Oh yeah, she had a sore throat. I told her it was okay.’ I didn’t understand the problem.
‘Mr. Adolph, our students are not allowed to bring water to school to drink between classes. You need to come in immediately and remove her water bottle. You may bring a NEW, UNOPENED bottle and leave it with the school nurse.’
So, being a dutiful father, I brought a new, unopened water bottle to school and had an enlightening conversation with the school nurse.
Me: ‘Ma’am, I don’t understand. Why can’t my daughter sip from a water bottle between classes?’
School Nurse: ‘How do you know it’s water? It could be alcohol!’
Me: ‘Ma’am, this is a middle school.’
Her: ‘Sir, vodka looks just like water.’
I suppose she’s correct; my mind just hadn’t gone there with my thirteen-year-old daughter.
Me: ‘Okay, what would you like me to do?’
Her: ‘Dump out the water bottle your daughter was using, and I’ll give her this fresh, unopened water bottle you just brought.’ (that was identical to the first water bottle!)
Me: ‘Okay, ma’am, but I have a question. Are kids allowed to bring their own lunch to school?’
Her: ‘Of course.’
Me: ‘And may they bring a drink with their lunch?’
Me: ‘Specifically, may they bring a water bottle with their lunch?’
Her: ‘Yes, they can.’
Me: ‘So you’re saying that if students sip from a water bottle between classes it’s probably alcohol. BUT, if students bring that SAME water bottle to lunch, it’s most likely to be water in the bottle?'”
Where’s The Bus?
“My kid’s school called about his absences, threatening to report it as truancy. We live in a suburb, and he went to a special ed school in the city due to his diagnosis. So if his bus didn’t show up, or he missed it, we couldn’t get him there in a reasonable time. So we would make sure he was ready and outside waiting for his bus about 15 minutes before it was scheduled to pick him up.
We live on the border between two school districts, so many buses would be driving through our neighborhood, not just for my kid, but also for the elementary and high school students.
One day, we were able to stay with him for his pick-up instead of rushing off to work, and low and behold, no bus.
So we called the school, saying, ‘Hey, he’s going to be late, his bus never showed up.’
They had us call the bus depot and report it. It was winter, it had snowed, and 2-hour delays would confuse the bus system.
Lo and behold, the bus dispatch said, ‘The bus driver says they were there and the kid wasn’t outside.’
We asked, ‘How? Because we were standing outside with him 15 minutes before he was scheduled to be picked up. My kid has missed the bus quite a bit lately, was the bus time changed or something?’
The bus dispatch looked at the GPS records and went, ‘Huh, that’s weird. There’s no delay today and you are scheduled to be picked up by that time. Y’all get picked up at the intersection a few blocks away at the Catholic school, right?’
I said, ‘No, he gets picked up at our corner.’
They replied, ‘Hold on.’
At this point, we thought they meant to put us on hold but mishit the button.
We could hear their conversation.
The bus dispatch said, ‘This is dispatch calling bus #. Bus #?’
They tried calling the aide’s cell phone, but it went straight to voicemail. They called the driver’s cell and then called the aide again. Finally an answer.
Bus Dispatch: ‘Hey, Aide. I got a call from a parent that their kid was skipped by you. Did you stop at their intersection?
You did? At what time?
And he wasn’t there?
So, can you explain why your radio is off and the GPS is showing that y’all have been idling at the Catholic school for the last 30 minutes and that you were at the actual bus stop for less than a minute 20 minutes before your scheduled pick up there?
So, y’all need to get to that bus stop now and get the kid to school. And when you are done, you will come straight to me and you will both turn in your keys. Because I am looking at your GPS record right now, and this isn’t the first time this has happened.
You’re being suspended pending an investigation. Yeah. Be there in 5 minutes.’
They hung up and then returned my call, ‘Ma’am? The bus will be there in about 5 minutes, if not sooner. We are so sorry about this.’
So, we took the kid outside again.
When the bus pulled up, our kid ran on board, and the bus driver decided to rip into me saying bs like, ‘It’s not like he’s ever going to get a job, so I don’t see the big deal if he misses some school. He honestly doesn’t need to go.’
I laughed at them, opened the front door, and took the phone out, ‘Hey, Bus dispatch? Yeah, my kid is on the bus right now. Bus driver is saying he does not need school, and that’s why he hasn’t been picking my kid up.’
Bus Dispatch: ‘Ma’am, a new bus will be there shortly. I am SO sorry about this.’
Over the bus radio, ‘Driver #, this is dispatch. Please have the student get off the bus and return to the depot immediately.’
Needless to say, driver and aide were both fired.”
“Your Daughter Is A Compulsive Liar”
“My daughter’s 6th-grade teacher sent a note home explaining, ‘Your daughter is a compulsive liar who expects people to believe that she is Korean when she is obviously not.’
In class, the teacher was talking about where the kids were born. When my daughter said she was born in South Korea, her teacher told her not to lie. My daughter got upset and said she wasn’t a liar and that her mom was in the Army and she was born in South Korea.
The teacher then told her, ‘Sit down and shut up. We all can tell you’re not Korean.’
The next day I went into the school office and asked to speak to the teacher. The principal, upon seeing the note, decided to sit in on the conversation.
The teacher said she was glad I came in and hoped that after this my daughter would learn not to lie! She explained the classroom discussion and stuck to her guns how my daughter was obviously not Korean and therefore a liar!
After 30 minutes we established how my daughter did not claim to be Korean, only that she had been born there. While the principal looked on slack-jawed, I explained how her father and I were both soldiers in the US Army, stationed in Korea, when she was born… and that where you were born does not change the color of your skin.
As I was leaving the last thing I heard was the principal incredulously asking her: ‘You seriously didn’t know Americans could be born overseas?'”
No Excuses For Bad Behavior
“When my stepdaughter was in 5th grade, she came home several days in a row complaining of being bullied by ‘Melissa.’ It wasn’t verbal abuse, but some pushing incidents. Now, in my experience, once a kid feels free to physically shove others, it seldom stops there.
This had actually started the year before, but it was getting worse.
My wife spoke to the administration, and was told there was nothing they could do, due to that family’s ‘situation’, which they were not at liberty to discuss! So, shut up and go away, we’re not gonna do anything?
The next day, I walked into the school and demanded to talk to the Principal. At first, I got an Assistant Principal, so I started there.
When the Assistant Principal repeated the drivel about all the parents having to tolerate the abuse of their children due to the offender’s unnamed ‘situation.’
I said ‘NO! You can’t talk about it, but I can. Melissa told my daughter what the problem is in their family – her dad has AIDS. Well, I’ve got Parkinson’s, so I face an ugly, premature death, too. My daughter knows about it, but we don’t wallow in it, we don’t weigh down her life with it, and we don’t come in here every school year and tell you that you have to tolerate any uncivilized behavior on her part – the entire class does not have to suffer because of MY problem!’
Well! Within 30 seconds, the Principal and two other Assistant Principals were in the room, and I was assured that the problem would be addressed – they would require a meeting with Melissa’s parents before the end of the week.
The problem never happened again, and Melissa and my daughter eventually became friends.”
Since When Was Being Left-Handed Wrong?
“I was learning to write and I was doing it with my left hand as I am to this day left-handed. Although I can now write with my right hand almost as well as my left but back then no. The teacher would yank the pencil out of my left hand and smack my hand with hers because I needed to write with the correct hand which to her was the right one.
As soon as she would walk off, I’d switch back to my left cause I just couldn’t do it with my right hand.
One day while I was at home, my mom stopped by to check on me and I was crying.
She asked, ‘What is wrong?’
I said, ‘I can’t make my right hand write the words.’
My mom probed and figured out I was a lefty after a few questions.
She then asked, ‘Why don’t you use my left hand?’
I told her what my teacher had been doing and my mom was absolutely livid.
The next day, she went down to the school herself. They pulled the teacher from class and she and my mom stood out in the hall. Our whole class could hear the shouting.
I don’t remember exactly what my mom said to that teacher but she walked back into our classroom and was white as a sheet like she’d had the fear of God put into her or something. My mom requested I come see her.
She told me, ‘If that teacher ever smacks you again or does anything bad, let me know.’
That teacher was never anything but extremely respectful and gentle with me after that. My mom is awesome nobody messes with her kids. I love her so much.”
Discipline Gone Wrong
“When my middle child (daughter) was in first grade, the teacher made the whole class stay after school one day because they’d been talking too much or some such nonsense. Anyway, about 20 minutes later, she finally released the kids. My daughter typically rode the bus to her daycare provider’s house, but sometimes she would ride ‘our bus’ (a different one) home with our older daughter and my next-door neighbor would watch over her.
Well, all the buses had left the school already, but my daughter, being a brand new first grader, thought the bus would come back for a second round of kids or something. So she sat down and waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally, about 45 minutes later, a 6th grader saw her sitting there and told her the bus wasn’t coming back, so they took her inside the school to find someone. Well, my daughter’s teacher was nowhere to be found, and the 6th grader’s teacher was nowhere to be found either, and no one was in the office.
Finally, they knocked on the door to the teachers’ lounge and found someone in there. Luckily I had written my phone number and the daycare provider’s phone number on my daughter’s agenda, so they called me, but I was in a meeting, so they called the daycare provider. She couldn’t go get my daughter though, because she didn’t have a vehicle available. So she texted ’emergency’ to me, and I called her as soon as I saw the text, maybe 5 or 10 minutes later.
She told me my daughter was still at school but didn’t know why. So I had to leave work to go get her.
The next day I met with the principal and teacher and told her about the danger she put my child in and the predicament she put us in. I asked her to figure out a better way to discipline the kids than keeping them after school and not bothering to notify anyone.
I’m grateful that the 6th grader was kind and responsible, and not mean. And that my daughter had the sense to stay at the school and not wander off trying to walk home (several miles away, and she’d have had to cross a few busy streets).”