[ discovering you ] - sequel to camp discovery || a tayvis story.

outtake eight.

JULY 23, 2013

1:15 PM

"Let me put on my principal cap," Alessia said, closing her office door behind the three of them. Travis and Taylor took a sit while Alessia walked around her desk and sat down. "Welcome to Sun Valley Elementary. I'm Mrs. Carter, I'm the principal here." She held out her hand to Taylor. Taylor took her hand and shook it.

"I'm Taylor, nice to meet you," Taylor said with a little giggle.

"So, what brings the two of you into my office today?"

"We would like to register our son for school, but we have a few problems when it comes to documents."

"I'm sure we can work through those issues if you just tell me what's going on,"

"Well, Michael and I just moved here from Tennessee, and we've been going through a list of different legal things. I am currently being adopted, and we are trying to get Travis's name put on Michael's birth certificate. But we were trying to hold off on it until my name was officially changed so we wouldn't have to do it again."

"I think for the time being, you'll have to register him under his current given name. Along with yours. Once you get the documents officially changed, we can change his name and yours in our systems."

"So how would that work with him going here? Since Travis isn't technically listed as his father on his birth certificate."

"I can make an exception for that for now, but for all documentation purposes, use what is currently accurate." Taylor nodded.

"Also. Is there a social worker that he can talk to? At his old school, the trauma-informed social worker was very involved with him and saved his teacher a few times."

"Trauma-informed social worker? Can you tell me a little more about why he went to this specialist?"

Taylor looked over at Travis, her face dropping a little. She turned back to look at Alessia, but her eyes soon fell to her lap. She started to play with her fingers. "Um, we've come from a very difficult past. I was in a very abusive relationship that landed me fighting for my life and in the hospital for nearly a month. Michael was having a very hard time after with everything, and his behavior was really reflective of what was going on." Taylor let out a sigh. "He has destroyed his classroom on numerous occasions; he can get frustrated, and he will either destroy things or shut down. We've been working on it all summer, and he is able to express when he is upset or experiencing a trigger, but sometimes he'll have a flashback, according to his therapist, and he just skips all the techniques he's been taught and goes off the deep end." Explaining what Michael had been going through since the beginning of December was still hard for her, but it was becoming a bit easier. Everyone she was surrounding herself with didn't seem as judgemental as the people back in her hometown of Hendersonville. They appeared extremely sympathetic and willing to help both herself and her son cross the hurdles that they had been facing. 

"I'm going to take my principal cap off for a second here," Alessia said, and Taylor lifted her head slightly to look at her. "When you tell your story, you hold your head up with pride. You survived your darkest moments and raised your son while doing so. Those scars are badges of honor, proof that even when someone was trying to take you out of this world, you fought to be here. You are a strong ass woman, Ms. Girl, and you need to know that."

"I tell her every day that she is amazing and stronger than she gives herself credit for," Travis said, looking at Taylor. 

"Good, she needs to hear it. Keep telling her," Alessia said, looking at Travis. Her eyes went back to Taylor. "I hope he says it enough that you start to believe it. I can see in your eyes you blame yourself for Michael's reaction to what happened to you. You and him are both victims of something terrible. I don't know exactly what happened, but judging by the scars I see on your face, and what you have said, it wasn't pretty. It is not your fault that these things happened. You are a damn good mother to that little boy, I can tell. He is well-spoken, well-mannered, and smart as hell. You did that even while going through hell, Ms. Taylor. You're one hell of a mother and one hell of a woman."

"Thank you for saying that," Taylor whispered, wiping a tear that had escaped from her eye. 

"You're welcome. Now.." Alessa adjusted an invisible hat on her head. "We don't have a trauma social worker, just a regular one, but I'm going to call a couple of people at the district and see if we can get him one to come a few days a week to talk to him, if you feel that would be beneficial to him while he is here."

"I think it will be," Taylor nodded. "At his other school, she would pull him out of class to make sure he was doing ok, that he was focusing, and to talk to him about everything that was going on outside of school. It didn't always start his flashback-induced meltdowns, but I noticed it did keep them from happening so frequently. His IEP states that he gets breaks when he gets frustrated."

"What's his exceptionalism?"

"Emotionally Disturbed."

"Do you have any of his files from his old school?" Alessia asked. Taylor shook her head. 

"They wouldn't give them to me. They told me once I got him into school to have the new school call and they would fax or mail everything over." Alessia rolled her eyes at what Taylor said. 

"I hate when schools do that." She grabbed a piece of paper and started to write some things down. "What's the name of the school he is coming from?"

"Hendersonville Elementary School," Taylor replied. Alessia just nodded her head. 

"I'll give them a call and see if I can get his files over as soon as possible, and then we can get him registered and in our systems. Once we do that, we can talk more about what he needs to succeed here at his new school."

"Thank you so much," Taylor told her. 

"No problem," Alessia said, turning in her office chair to face her computer. Taylor and Travis got up from where they were sitting as she started to type away on her computer.