I always pick her up at parent pickup. She is not the kind of child who wanders off, explores, or ever talks to strangers (it's a big enough challenge to get her to talk to non-strangers outside family members). Feeling a nervous flutter in my stomach, I walked at a brisk clip to the school office. I tried to wait patiently for one of the ladies behind the counter to acknowledge me, but I'm sure my face betrayed my complete lack of patience.
This is where it get unbelievable. All three women in the office, checked their lists and made confirming phone calls and then reported that Hannah had indeed been taken to parent pick up. "Then where is my child?" Again, with feigned patience. I asked to talk to her teacher. Her regular teacher was out. When they called to talk to the substitute teacher, she insisted that she had taken Hannah to parent pickup. "Does she even know who Hannah is?" I questioned silently, but did not voice.
They then called the bus drivers, who were out on their routes by this time, to see if she had somehow gotten on a bus. The only thing I could even think of was that she had mistakenly gone home with her best friend (who takes the bus). The bus driver reported that she was not on the bus. The teachers who were directing children onto the buses reported that no children who do not ordinarily take the bus were put onto buses that day. The office ladies checked their records, and Hannah was not given a bus pass. That didn't surprise me, given that I hadn't sent a note giving permission for her to do anything other than come to parent pick up.
By this time, the nervous flutter had become somewhat panicked, as you can probably imagine. I recapped the situation for them. "Your records show you took my child to the parent pick up area. She's not there. She's missing. Am I missing anything?"
To make a long story not all that short, the thought came to me that I should call the mom of Hannah's best friend, who by this time would be headed to the bus stop to pick up her own daughter. She promised to call me as soon as the bus arrived at the stop. Low and behold, Hannah was on that bus. I was, needless to say, relieved. Hannah's friend had convinced her that Hannah was supposed to come home on the bus with her for a playdate. All's well that ends well, but where (I ask you) are the school's internal controls?
And the sad, but typical, end to this story is that Hannah's substitute teacher (who was back for another few days) chided Hannah sternly the next day. I suspect because I made it clear to the school office ladies that the teacher and administrators should do a better job of following their own procedures. No parent should have to wonder (without any answer) where her child could be.
Here's a picture of Hannah (safe and sound) with her 100-bead shirt. You can see my post about that project here
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