After Tuesday’s funeral all I could think about was how lucky I was to have not one, or two but FOUR healthy boys. So you can imagine my surprise on Wednesday morning when I was led into a room at Ben’s school with a team of therapists wanted to discuss Ben’s behavior.

The school councilor, a speech therapist, a social worker, the head of the Montessori school program, an occupational therapist, the school therapist, another woman who I’m not sure what she did, a trainee, and Ben’s teacher.

After the strike and all the talk about underfunded schools I couldn’t help thinking that someone was paying seven people to sit and talk about this with me. It must really be bad.

What could be so horrible that it needed this level of attention?

In fairness to his teacher, she did described a few things I agreed were unacceptable behavior. Ben had bit each teacher once. He was having trouble with personal space. He needed to learn to keep his hands to himself.

Apart from those two items, I heard her describe a lot of things that seemed like normal, if naughty, three year old behavior.

He was having trouble staying in line when they moved from classroom to specials like Spanish. He threw his toys. He put things in his mouth. He didn’t move from one activity to the next easily.

Finally there were a few things I thought were hard to deal with, but in no way indicative of bad behavior. In fact, just her bringing them up made me wonder if she could separate them or if she had already formed such a prejudice towards Ben that there was no way he would ever be treated fairly in this class.

When she told him how to work with the beads in her class, pulling them down one at a time, he would do it her way. When she left he would pull down three or more. She would come back. He would listen, and start pulling down one at a time. Then she would leave and he would go back to the way he wanted to do it. She actually brought this up as a complaint. My friend and former CPS Montessori teacher, Pam explained that the beauty of a Montessori classroom is that kids work at their own pace. If it takes her a month to explain how it works she should do it patiently and with a positive attitude.

He pooped on the floor before he got to the potty. He was potty trained 2 months ago, I gently reminded her. Did she remember the talk I had to her about it at the meet and greet? I asked. She had reassured me at the time that they had a newbie last year and it would all be fine. However, for some reason she felt this was not a normal accident. She thought Ben was pooping on the the floor in defiance. Really? A three year old who can’t figure out how you want him to work with beads has the brains to think of such a creative way to defy you?

I may not understand Montessori, but I do understand potty training. I then asked how I could help at home. At home he can run to the toilet when he wants and he is normally half naked. At school he is dressed, the bathroom is another room away and he needs to ask permission and wait for a teacher to take him. Would it be better to put his clothes back on so that he had more lag time in between thinking he had to go and going? I received a blank stare in response.

I was also upset at the poor communication I was getting from her. Most of these complaints were first aired at this meeting. Was is really necessary to assemble such a large team before even giving us a chance to sort them out together?

Do I see behaviors like this at home? Yes he wants to do his own thing on his own time, who doesn’t? Yes he occasionally has potty accidents. Sometimes he puts things in his mouth, sometimes he throws things, not in anger but because he’s a boy and that’s what they do. In fact, I didn’t think any of these things were cause for alarm. When they happen I tell him to stop and he normally does. He can listen and he can behave. He is not the animal she betrayed him as to these therapists.

Still based on her analysis, they wanted to study him further, do tests on him. They asked me to fill out questionnaires about him. Then come back to the table with a plan.

My friend Jennie said, “Free help! Take it!”

My friend Jenn said, “Sounds like the teacher and he have a personality conflict. Maybe he can be switched to another room?”

As I mentioned before, my friend Pam, a former Montessori CPA teacher, talked to me for ages, describing what she thought was reasonable and what was not. It was very helpful. She explained schools have a 6 week period they call ‘normalization’. It’s when new kids learn how to fit in and comply with all the new rules and changes in their lives . Ben has been in school less than 3 weeks. It seemed premature. She asked if I had seen a list of classroom rules? No. I hadn’t. Perhaps knowing them would help keep consistency at home and at school. Would it be possible to observe Ben in the classroom setting? Could I be given a tour of the classroom with explanation as to better understand what they do all day?

Today he was good natured and helpful. Here he is helping to pluck and wash the grapes for dinner.

I was worried what she did to our happy sweet, rambunctious little Ben all day. At the meeting she talked about how she restrained him and how the other teacher accidentally kicked him and broke three toe nails. She never reported this to me at the time it happened. I was worried for Ben’s well being. I was scared to send him back. So I kept him home.

Yesterday I witnessed something that no parent should go through. The burial of their son.

On Saturday morning, Ollie Cedric Tan lost his battle with leukemia. He was three years old.

Ollie was the son of my good friends Greg and Margie. He was a younger brother to Zackary, age 7 and Adrianna, age 5.

When Ollie was in the womb they found out he had an extra chromosome, Monosomy 7. They knew that adults sometimes found out they had this extra chromosome when they tried to get pregnant and couldn’t. They were hopeful that would be his only symptom.

Two years ago Greg and Margie invited us to stay with them in the house they rented in the Hamptons. We met Ollie for the first time. He was small for his age. At the time they were worried that his speech was delayed, another possible side effect of the extra chromosome. Margie told me how he didn’t grow for ages, how he had terrible rashes his first year of life.

It wasn’t until another vacation, this time in the Cayman Islands with our friends Andrew and Karen, that we learned that Ollie was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia. It was rare. It was aggressive. And the survival rate was not great.

Margie started a blog so all her friends and family could hear what was happening with Ollie. I read it faithfully. I read it, helplessly, as they had to face each painful decision.

They started him on chemo and looked for a bone marrow transplant match. Three months later, in October of that year I was in New York to visit Greg and my friend Tom, who was in town from Japan. Greg explained to me the process. Four rounds of chemo, each round 100 times more powerful than the last. Then a bone marrow transplant. I asked him what would happen if the transplant didn’t take? He told me each successive transplant had a much lower success rate. So after the first one, they would see.

I didn’t see Margie that weekend. Ollie had a fever in the hospital and he didn’t want her to leave.

The first transplant did not take. They decided to do a second one. I’m not even sure if the second one was covered by insurance. All I know is these determined parents did everything in their power to save him.

In the end it did not help. No amount of love or money could save him. He passed away Saturday morning.

I booked a flight out and was there for the funeral. Greg was waiting at the entrance of the chapel. He greeted me and thanked me for coming. I didn’t have any words for him. Just a hug. I knew anything I could say would have no effect on the grief he was feeling at that moment.

I sidled up next to Andrew, Tiffany and Randall Wong in the pew. I was already teary seeing the impossibly small white casket come down the aisle, but the sight of Greg behind it effected me so badly that my face was twitching with sadness.

In the end Greg made a speech about Ollie. Measuring his life not in length but richness. He spoke of his love of dinosaurs and his thoughtfulness to others. His speech was eloquent, and even had a bit of humor to it. He was so composed up there at the pulpit. I always admired him for his dedicated work ethic, his humor and his loyalty, but I was never more proud to call him a friend until I watched him talk of Ollie that day. Behind me I heard a chorus of sniffles.

“He will keep Margie safe. He will protect her and be her rock through this.” I thought.

After the speech he held Zackary and Adrianna up to the microphone so they could each say “good bye” and “I love you” to Ollie. It was the only bright hope I had in the entire day. To see them up there, smiling their wishes to the crowd. I hoped that their innocence would protect them against this cruel twist of fate. That they would not walk away from this with the scars that will no doubt live inside Margie and Greg’s hearts forever.

After the service some of the friends and family went back to Greg and Margie’s. It was the first contact I had with Margie. I half expected her to be drugged and out of it. But behind the puffy skin around her eyes I saw clear, alert eyes. Later I sat next to her while she put on videos of Ollie dancing, eating his favorite Costco chicken, playing the piano and rolling over as an infant. She laughed about his silly dance moves. I secretly wondered who the rock in the relationship actually was? Certainly she bore the worst of it, she was by Ollie’s side all the time, day and night and she somehow managed not to neglect her other kids either. It was an impossible situation but she never gave up, she never shut down. When it got tough, she rose up. I realized I was lucky to call this amazing woman a friend as well.

Rest in peace, Ollie. Rest in peace.

How sweet is my sitter, Anjelica?

Last week she spent her hard earned money on my kids! She found a perfect gift to combine Ben’s love of eating crayons along with his love of chocolate. Chocolate crayons! (Jack got them too.)