Life with Peanut Allergy
Copyright 2009 by S. Thomas Kaza
1
Their eyes wandered as I made my plea
Asking the school to somehow see
My son needs a place peanut free
To guarantee his safety and life
I told them the dangers he must face
Even if nuts are found in trace
I asked them to please provide the space
To ease my worry and strife
In the end they would only agree
To have one lunch table nut free
We signed the papers to proceed
And I got up to leave with my wife
As we left, the principal approached us.
“I hope you see now we are quite serious.
If something happens, there’s no need to worry
We’ll get your son to the hospital in a hurry”
“In that case,” I said,
“He might already be dead.”
2
I stood nearby and heard their ire
About my wife who had dared to inquire
If the popcorn they sold to any buyer
Was popped in peanut oil
One of them jokingly said to the other
“We should have slipped that stupid mother
A peanut in her popcorn butter
That would have made her blood boil”
They cackled and laughed without a care
While other children waited there
Listening to the thoughtless pair
Using my wife as their foil
Oh, the lessons learned that night
From PTA mothers who took such delight
In mocking a mother who was only meaning
To advocate her child’s health and well-being
Which by a recent edition
Is part of the PTA mission
3
The teacher was firm, her position steadfast
The problem was not the snacks used in class
And the solution was for my son to ask
If the food had nuts in it or not
“When he learns to ask”, she strongly persisted
“He will do for himself unassisted
What you and your wife have always insisted
And ensure the safety you’ve sought”
“But what if the people he asks are unsure?
Or what if the list of ingredients obscure?
Don’t you think the answer would be poor?
And risk the safety we’ve got?”
But the teacher would not think otherwise
In the end I was forced to ‘compromise’
I agreed to push my son to ask
She agreed to let us buy the snacks for the class
What a sham!
What a shameless scam!
What I learned…..
They might know how to fill out the state government form.
They might know how to run a PTA school event.
They may even know how to teach children to count with candy.
But they don’t know that stinking, sinking feeling as you rush your child to the hospital.
They don’t know how it feels to hold your screaming child in your arms
Trying to comfort them as their faces bloats out two sizes like a boxer beaten to a pulp
All the while thinking that this might be the last time you hold your child- alive
Yes, I will face their bored faces, their mocking grins, their snide remarks
I will fight them over each and every word and sentence on the forms they hide behind.
I will ask them over and over and over at every school event, every restaurant, every family picnic, until they hate to see me and don’t bother to invite me anymore
They may say they are tired of hearing me, but I will never tire of hearing my son say “Dad”.
And yes, I will consider any teacher, regardless of how many kids she has taught to count with candy, to be worthless if she can’t teach my child without it
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