This morning was my first chance this school year to volunteer in Sophie’s classroom. I scurried around, dropping the girls at school then grabbing Starbucks for Miss Y (and Ms X, of course), and I’d just skidded to a stop at the school office and grabbed the volunteer book to sign in when I saw the school nurse.

She had something to tell me.

Sophie failed both her vision and hearing tests. Super. I had a feeling it was coming (even though, to be honest, I don’t see issues with either Sophie’s hearing or sight, and I look for signs constantly) and made a note on my hand to schedule more tests.

That was on my mind when I entered Miss Y’s classroom to begin my morning job overseeing the creation of pumpkin paintings for the hallway bulletin board — but I was quickly distracted by the goings-ons in the classroom.

I can’t offer much in detail because I don’t want to violate any privacy rules, but let’s just say that it’s not fair to ask any one person — even the amazing Miss Y — to run that classroom. As others have murmured already this year, Sophie is the least of her concerns — at least, she was this morning, particularly since the special ed teacher has begun her inclusion work in the classroom, meaning she wound up helping not just Sophie but a few other kids as well.

There are several Tough Kids with a capital T in that room, and a few others I’d stick a lowercase t on. At least one of those kids (not counting Sophie) should have a full time aide — no doubt about it.

Miss Y kept a smile on her face, ringing her yoga chimes to get the kids’ attention and never losing her cool. I smiled, but inside I was seathing. No wonder no one lasts long as a teacher. If I was this woman, I’d run screaming from the classroom.

At least it was a distraction from thinking about the appointments I’ll need to make this afternoon. And I got, oh, about a dozen hugs from Sophie — who was very happy to have me in her room.

I was glad to be there, too. And even happier when it was time to leave.