Michael’s currently enrolled in a private, in-home kindergarten. We decided against sending him to public school this year, and the decision was not made lightly.

We felt he wasn’t ready for public school yet. More accurately, it could be said that public school isn’t ready for Michael yet.

But whichever way you slice it, we’re looking for some signs that his maturity level is at the right point for the rigors of a public education system. Thus far, we haven’t seen them. His teachers assured us before this school year began that they’d have him prepared to enter first grade when the year was up. His mom and I aren’t so sure about that. But we figure if he doesn’t get into first grade next year, we may put him in public kindergarten.

To be fair, he has matured quite a bit. His use of words has greatly improved, he has a lot more control over his behavior, and he is quite a bit more focused than he was last year.

But we’re still not there yet.

Case in point: today, when I picked him up, I saw that placed in Michael’s cubby was “the book.”

In his school, all the kids that have exhibited chronic behavior issues have a little black notebook with their name on it, in which the teachers can write down notes about behavior problems that occurred during the day. The parents can read about these problems that evening, and work with the teachers to problem solve. This way they have one place for all of the teachers to communicate with the parents and each other regarding a particular child, rather than calling the parents at home or at work.

And by “all the kids” I mean the one kid who has behavior issues. And by “the parents” I mean my wife and me.

Because there is only one book, and it’s got Michael’s name on it.

His chapters have included such favorites as hiding in the play structure and refusing to come in for lunch, swiping things from other kids while they’re playing with them, hiding in the bathroom and not coming out when called, climbing on the back of the couch after being repeatedly told that this is not okay, hiding in the book reading clubhouse and refusing to line up for the next activity, etc.

In today’s chapter, I learned how Michael scratched another little kid because he wanted to see the book she had. And he brained still another with a toy because she called him a “bad boy.” He failed to see the irony in his action when I pointed it out.

But on the positive note, the last paragraph on the page said that they’d given him some better techniques to use when frustrated, and that he employed them during what would have been a third incident.

So, there’s that. And I should be proud of that, I think.

I reminded him that despite his success in the end, the bad behavior still warranted loss of TV privileges for the evening. He understood this. When we got home, we discussed Michael’s behavior issues with his mom, and she reinforced his need to make better choices when he’s frustrated or angry.

So naturally it follows that when I left briefly to go retrieve dinner, that I came home and was asked this question by my wife: “Did you tell Michael it was okay for him to watch TV tonight?”

“No. He knows he lost his privilege,” I said.

“You lied to me, Michael,” his mom said to him.

“So that means you lose tomorrow’s TV privilege too,” I added. His mom nodded her head in agreement.

After a brief pause, Michael looked down and said “I’m sorry I lied.”

I believe he is.

I just hope maybe he’s sorry enough to remember to make better choices for the rest of the school year.

I’d be happy to know there won’t be any more chapters in that book.