A Call From the Teacher

 Wow, what a day. I write happily about a sweet moment with my 3 yr old daughter singing a song about adoption and then, two hours later, I'm fielding a call from the other daughter's Kindergarten teacher asking what's gone wrong with her.

First, I've said almost nothing to the school about the girls' adoption. I gave the basic facts as a little extra security to make sure if anyone from the birth family ever tried to pick them up then someone would be a bit more suspicious. But, overall I wanted to protect her privacy so I've said little about her struggles. 

The Kindergarten teacher is not a very organized, communicative teacher. She looks flustered most of the time. She's not my favorite person. I don't tell her much beyond the basics. 

This week she stopped me in the hallway and asked if we could talk. She called me today and was worried about Jane's report card (some skills had regressed). The first thing she asked was: did Jane see any birth family over Christmas because she has not been the same since she came back from the break. 

Oh. My. God. For a full month Jane has been: spacey, baby-talking, unable to complete work on time, unable to do any complex new work without crying, regressing in math skills when tested. In short, she's having some kind of PTSD flashbacks all the time and can't concentrate or cope at school.

Wow. 

a) I can't believe it took the teacher a month to notify me about this. b) I can't believe even this rather clueless and not very skillful teacher noticed a problem. c) I can't believe one Zoom call with birth grandma could still be derailing my child a full month later.

So.....

Also, last night I got a call from aunt who is very stressed because grandma is ranting and raving that I'm lying about everything. Grandma claims she never shared any pictures of the girls, for example. Grandma also claims she has never sent me harassing emails. I forwarded those to the aunt and also sent her screenshots where it shows that Grandma shared whole albums of the girls with a slew of men (Why only men? Her bio dad, two different step dads, the girls' other grandpa and the girls' half brother. Five men...no women. Not the other aunts or female cousins or the other grandma. Why?? And the albums were pics of the girls dressed up, i.e. for a dance recital. When I see what she does when she thinks I'm not looking, this woman skeeves me out more and more.) 

I sent the aunt an email and described everything the teacher described. I think it'll help give proof to our claim now that we have another person confirming Jane was keenly distressed by that Zoom visit. 

One final thought. I keep mulling over why the Zoom call was so disturbing. So powerful. A year ago when the pandemic first started I tried to do a few Zoom calls and Jane never liked them. She doesn't want to look at the screen. She keeps looking away. But she loves cartoons and has no problem watching a show on my laptop. Something about the real person...

Another thing. The very first week the girls came here I noticed they hated to have their pictures taken. They'd get this angry look as soon as they noticed my phone and glare at the camera or, if I really wanted to take the picture, then Jane especially would do this artificial pose....and I hate to even say the word...a sexy/pouty face. It was shocking and revolting. It was not a smile. It was not a look any normal 3 yr old would do. Pouty lips and hooded eyes looking seductively at the camera. That was taught. I took one pic to send to her social worker and then never allowed her to make that face again. I had to teach her how to smile. I had to stand her in front of a mirror and name things she liked (Ice cream! Teddy bears!) to get her to smile so she could see it and remember what it felt like to be simply and genuinely happy. (And, incidentally, she stopped hating to have her picture taken after I stopped her making that face.)

So, if she hates live people/voices on a screen. If she knew how to make sexy faces when a camera was pointed at her...dear god, did she witness...or participate...in some kind of online porn? I have to fight down waves of nausea as I write this. 

The smell of cigarette smoke from the box of toys. The sight/sound of a person from her past on a screen. Those things brought back some horrendous and powerful memories. 

Today I began searching for a therapist again. Did an exhaustive search for those in our area who specialize in foster/adoption. Sent out 4 queries. I hope someone can help us. Soon.