I Recently Attended A Meeting At My Eldest's Middle School. He (his Chosen Pronoun) Is Autistic And Trans,

I recently attended a meeting at my eldest's middle school. He (his chosen pronoun) is autistic and trans, although he hasn't transitioned. Still, he has vibes. He's also fairly aggressive with his peers. He's trying to be funny most of the time and this usually doesn't go well. In recent months there have been several kids who've ganged up on him, especially at lunch. They ruin his food, throw rocks at him, and call him gay slurs. He's miserable.

Reader, I went into that meeting with the intention of having a Cooperative Attitude. I tend to go mama bear pretty fast with school admin and I was Not Going to Do That this time.

Until the principal sat there and earnestly informed me that he was not being bullied. If he defends himself, it's a conflict, not a bullying situation.

Mind you he's one kid, with no one sticking up for him, against groups of attackers.

The only reason I didn't go full nuclear is because my husband was there and he interrupted before I blew my top. We needed a document from the school for his residency paperwork otherwise he's usually the first to blow.

One of the teachers present had the wisdom to assert that it *was* bullying and that allowed me to deescalate.

And I had to point out the power differential to this principal between an autistic kid and a fucking *group* accosting him daily and she finally admitted it was a problem.

I'm still feeling shabby, ngl.

I hate Bullies.

This is brilliant. I'm an in home caregiver to people who are vulnerable and have often wondered how on earth I could ever go on strike without doing harm. My profession desperately needs unionized changes. It's like the company owners bank on the fact that we'd never abandon our clients. But we don't have to! We just have to figure out how to give more and better service without allowing the company to profit.

Yeah quiet quitting is great and all but have you tried chaotic working?

Like. I remember back in my grocery store cashier days I did so much crazy shit.

When WIC (Women, infants, and children voucher program to help low income mothers/families with children) people were in my line I would pretty much know who they were. Before the cards they had to tell us upfront they were WIC and show us their vouchers for what they were allowed to get (it was awful some times. Like. 2 gallons of milk. $4 worth of vegetables etc etc). They’d always have items hanging back, waiting to see what the total was and if they would have to take it off the belt.

I began to place the fruits/vegetables a certain way on the register scale so that like 1/2lbs of grapes read as like .28lbs or something. Then act shocked when I said that they still had X amount of lbs left. They got all their fruit and vegetables.

I think it started to kinda? Catch on to the women? Because I would have the same moms in my line month after month. And even after they switched to the cards (they worked like food stamp cards?) I’d still do the same thing. They were able to get more produce for whatever shitty max amount Indiana gave them.

Anyways. Be chaotic. It’s more fun that way.

Whenever I see an Ivan Aivazovski painting the sea monster in me goes absolutely feral