The Locker Incident

Just when I thought I’d seen and heard it all, the teacher called.

It was the Friday of the first full week of school and Natalie and I were just ordering lunch at the mall food court when my cell phone rang. It’s always disconcerting to have the teacher call but getting that call in the middle of the day is that much more worrisome. Caleb’s teacher politely asked if I had a minute to talk. The timing was certainly not perfect but these phone calls take precedence, so I raised an excuse-me-for-a-moment finger to the woman waiting behind the pizza counter, then walked away to hear the news of the day.

I had given Caleb some lunch money that morning. He set the money on his bathroom counter while he brushed his teeth, then he headed out the door leaving the five-dollar bill behind. I noticed the money later in the morning but for whatever reason, it didn’t occur to me that it was Caleb’s lunch money. He had, after all, always been quite careful with his money so it was easy to assume the cash came from one of the girls’ frequently played-with piggy banks.

Evidently, when lunch time arrived and Caleb couldn’t find his money, he had what his teacher deemed a “total meltdown.” He was so upset at having lost his money that he curled himself in a ball and refused to speak to anyone. Though his teacher repeatedly tried to assure him that he could get lunch on loan, he maintained that he would not eat and could not join the class in the lunch line. The exact details and order of what followed are not clear to me (the teacher and Caleb have slightly different versions), but what I do know is that Caleb felt the need to go somewhere out of public view. He was quietly—no tears—upset but did not want anyone to look at his face for fear they’d read the distress all over his expression.

I suppose I understand that part. People stare. Kids stare harder. His classmates were probably all aware of the situation and gawking at the events as they unfolded. What I don’t understand is the location to which we chose to escape. He somehow managed to contort his lanky legs up behind his ears, squeezed himself into his locker (with a backpack also in it) and closed the door.

We took this picture at Open House. How in the world did he fit himself in there?

Another student alerted the teacher and she went immediately to get him out. The lockers are marked with each student’s number and because it was so early in the year, the teacher didn’t yet know which number belonged to Caleb and therefore didn’t know which locker he was in. They quickly figured it out and opened the door to find what Caleb’s teacher described as “the most scared little mouse anyone had ever seen.” He was eventually coaxed from his confinement, did eat lunch and was soon running to the playground for recess. I think the whole incident, though disturbing, was fairly short-lived and Caleb rebounded from it very quickly.

Over the last six months or so, Caleb has seemed to be more unstable emotionally. This is very typical for a pre-teen with his disabilities, but it has presented us with new challenges that we have not yet faced. He is more easily upset and more difficult to calm. It seems his anxiety has been sent into overdrive. He’s beginning to develop a greater sense of self-awareness but remains painfully unaware of socially acceptable ways of dealing with his unique discomforts and disappointments. When I suggested that, for future reference, he go to a bathroom stall if he needed to be alone, he resisted stating that other students might wonder why he was taking so long. I’m baffled that he would be concerned with what others might think about an extended bathroom visit, but not be cognizant about the appearance of a 10-year-old boy bending himself into a small locker in the middle of the hallway.

We consulted his doctor about some of his recent emotional disturbances even before this locker incident. He advised getting set up with a counselor with the possibility of prescribing anti-anxiety medication if symptoms worsen. We’ve had difficulty finding a therapist that is suited to our situation and also covered by our insurance and open to new patients. I think I did, just today, find a good match but she has a six month waiting list. This is a pivotal year for Caleb as he prepares to transition to middle school and we’re doing our best to give him all the help he needs.

Caleb’s teacher, in her unique, overly dramatic way, remarked to me that her heart hurt so greatly from the image of seeing Caleb crunched into his locker, that she needed a glass of wine upon returning home from school. I admit to wishing that I too could indulge in such an escape from an aching heart. But alas, I believe that strong drinks are not for the belly, so we therefore choose to just stay on our knees a little bit longer. We appreciate all the prayers offered in Caleb’s behalf.

I would be remiss if I did not share the happy ending to this story. As we sat around the dinner table on the Sunday following the locker event, Caleb very matter-of-factly stated, “Well, tomorrow’s a school day.” I was utterly shocked by the slight bit of enthusiasm in his voice and before I could clarify what his tone was implying, he added, “I think I’m starting to feel like school is fun.”

That is when I knew that the locker incident did not cause lasting distress. It was already a distant memory and he was focused on what was good about his new class. And he also now had the tools to know how to appropriately handle similar situations.