At Least She’s Polite

My daughter’s teachers are amazing. I cannot sing their praises enough. And my daughter LOVES them, even though there are days when the Autism-induced frustration comes flying out of her mouth in a Tourette’s Syndrome style of four-lettered words.

Her math teacher, Ms Scott, is kind of new. She started last year. She and Randa hit it off. Ms Scott mentioned that Randa never said anything bad to her like she had to all of the other teachers. Perhaps Randa was allowing the new to wear off.

Last semester I was talking with several of Randa’s teachers while the kids were at lunch. One laughed as she recalled the day that Randa said hello to her and then called her “stupid bitch” while throwing a finger at her. The teacher had said, “Randa! What did you say?” And Randa immediately dropped the middle finger and gave her a thumbs up instead and said, “Stupid fish?”

Another teacher told of a fond memory where Randa plopped down next to her at a table and said, “Ms Miller, why do you have to be such a son of a bitch?” To which Ms Miller replied, “That’s just how I roll.”

There were a few other stories and we all laughed, my laugh more of a nervous reaction to my concern that I’m never going to get put in for that Mother of the Year Award due to the stellar example I’ve set for my AU kid. Ms Scott admitted that she’d finally been admitted to the Randa-Cussed-Me-Out Club.

She’d told Randa to get her work and sit down at her table when Randa looked at her and said, “Shut the fuck up, Ms Scott.” Ms Scott calmly told Randa, “I think you can find a nicer way to say that, Randa.” Randa didn’t bat an eye.

“Shut the fuck up, please.”

We died laughing.

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