That's what I'm saying.

I am coming down from a bleepworthy tirade given after my being too angry and silent and pent up for too long, and also after trying and hoping for too long, said tirade consisting of my railing about the fact that I (meaning as parents or somebody in a similar role) seem to have to instruct people who are paid, paid — based on their education, based on their experience, based on their seniority, based on their hands-on know-how — to understand what is their job as a special-education professional in the public-school system. (I am not going into much detail, so please do not go into auto-defense mode regarding teachers. You are preaching to the choir if you even think about going down that road.) My problem?: Why the fuck am I babysitting you through your job, day after every day? Why does nobody else think that is odd? I am not asking you to be a parent. In fact, I’m asking you to not only NOT be a parent, but to not be a gramma either, but to be a professional. Put away the fucking Pop Tarts and carpet squares. Do not leave me a message at home after my kid has been supposedly one of your cases for a whole week and leave a disconnected cell phone number and, after I track you down at another number and leave a detailed message, call back a few days later, asking for an e-mail address and saying you don’t know why you are assigned to my kid because you haven’t recieved any paperwork from his middle school, then e-mail us something that sounds like a goddamn message in a bottle from an Amish intern in a Hollywood movie. DO NOT. If you cannot get that shit, that basic information, you do not belong in that job for one more day. There are five phone numbers, including one to a certain household member who works at the same school district YOU do and his cell phone number, on a single sheet of registration form in the main office, and you can’t get to THAT? How the fuck do deal with parents who don’t give a shit about their kids, who steal their R-tal-n, who never brought diapers to their DD-preschool class because they figured the teachers would fucking pay for them so you could buy more fucking drugs? So, I’m a little angry confronted with the fact that I have to coddle some professionally trained person — and I’ve met many extremely knowledgable and helpful and self-reliant people in this field — and tell her that he’s (504)(b), because she can’t fucking call his previous school, I have to do it for her, and she evidently can’t tell, as she should be able to after years of being in this field, the signs of Asperger’s or autism. Fuck you. I’ve met 20-yr.-old WMU students who guessed it right away. So N,.  is basically giving me the "just communicate with her and keep communicating with her" spiel, which brings me to the point of "Why the hell am I training her?! Who are these people? I should not have to be babysitting her. It is her job. She is not a Latin teacher who needs help dealing with one weird kid. She can’t even access paperwork from an actual file in an actual office." So N. brings up the fact that I could "Hey, fine, if you’re so gung-ho about it, go on down and talk to C. Green and the KPS board, bring all this up, that’s great, you have more time than I do. BUT it is all taking away from the kid and from the attention and education the kid gets and the time we spend on all this stuff at home." Which pisses me off, because it should be BOTH, it should be BOTH, I should be able to address both fronts either separately or at the same time — whatever makes it most effective for the institions, for the kid and for the parents, — and it should be EASY for this special-ed professional after all the fucking time and energy that his parents, friends, family, therapists, doctors, ALL of his previous teachers throughout DD preschool and elementary school have put into making him the person he is today — the one whose DD is almost unnoticeable to you, Ms. Professional. We made it easy for you! My correcting/addressing a problem that seems unending should not be a hindrance to my kid’s education and the time I spend with him. The point of argument was this: I could spend my time "going down to city hall and fighting red tape," (and thus ignoring my kid, I guess) or I could gently guide this woman, probably daily, through our needs, wants, personal preferences, family dynamics, dietary preferences and/or restrictions, the kid’s day-to-day habits and emotioanl ups and downs, maybe even consult her vis a vis wardrobe. I could do that for the next 4.85 years. Because that would do the kid, and the world, and all of us, a lot of good. Right? Right? Not right, because, as I said earlier, it should be both. So, anyway, I decide to shut down, leave it alone seemingly, I turn on the TV eventually, and against my better (shutting-down) judgement, I turn on CNN, (no "902190" reruns) in time to hear Obama saying what I’m trying to, what I was trying to, for-the-fucking for-the-love-of-god, say: It is the idea that big government gets in the way of public service. YES, that’s a big "DUH," but this, to me, is an example of two things: 1) If you’re not getting it right but know you’re thisclose to explaining what you really mean, something will happen if you suddenly watch TV or go outside to make you go, "Dude, that’s so weird!", and 2) Some guy running for president wants to run the country involving/in the same way I was just fighting with one person (who did agree with me on all points; it was/is just a matter of effort and time, not of knowledge, thoughtfulness, or experience) for fixing a small but important part of the school my kid attends. Uh. So. I had an argument based on reason, with a reasonable person who did agree with me but seemed to think I should be more quiet and that it was an either/or situation, which I knew it was NOT but I was so pissed off I couldn’t see straight, and I walked in and heard Obama saying everying I was thinking and meaning, but it was about taking care of the United States and its citizens, and vice versa.  "Those ARE old arguments. The fact is we have to have government." (If you go to the link, start at 2:00 for what I’m quoting.) (Oh, I know we don’t have to, it’s called "anarchy," I get it.) He could have just been some senator on TV saying this in 2006, and I could have been walking away from the same fight in a nearly visible cloud of frustration and anger, at the same time. I’m just saying: THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING. You are not … Oh, forget it.