Unexcused Absences

My therapist and I are working on the premise that the things that trigger us are rooted in childhood in some way.

My mom passed away earlier this month, and my children attended the funeral. She died on Wednesday evening, and we had her funeral on Monday. They missed school from Friday through Tuesday.

We’re in four different schools—two high schools, a middle school, and an elementary school.

One high school and the middle school excused all three days without question.

The elementary school did not appear to have processed the absence note, and the assistant principal called to inquire why they had missed three days of school. I wasn’t expecting the passion I felt to ensure that all three days were considered excused. After a brief check with the principal, all three days were excused.

The other high school sent a note that they were only able to mark one day as excused, with the other days considered unexcused.

Little 8th-grade Kraft came back. My dad died on a Friday morning, and we buried him on Monday. I didn’t go to school on Friday until returning to the classroom on Wednesday.

The school only considered the day of his funeral as an excused absence. Until that point and, if my memory is correct, throughout my K-12 career, the day of my dad’s death and the day after his funeral were the only unexcused absences in my file.

Before the days of parent portals, I didn’t realize it until I saw the bold count of unexcused absences on my report card; something I didn’t know was even reported on report cards back then. It struck me as cruel. School was a place of escape from the difficulties of home, the place where I excelled. I was accustomed to always being near the top of the pack in school—hell, I skipped 2nd grade after the school saw my standardized test results from my first-grade year. It felt especially cruel that the place I created my façade and had every reason to be given the benefit of the doubt wouldn’t give it to me when it truly felt absolutely just.

There were a lot of things in my childhood that told me that expressing feelings or showing “weakness” wasn’t helpful. Not just this event, of course, but it added to the pile.

I’m not sure if we tried to fight it; I probably acted like I didn’t care because I needed walls around me back then. “Did it actually matter anyway?” But it hurt, and it stayed with me.

Today, I can speak up for the little 8th-grade boy who couldn’t back then. Partly due to that experience, we’ve never emphasized “perfect attendance” as a goal or something to strive for, so the girls may not care very much. It matters to me, in some small way.

With today’s technology, it was trivial to look up the Austin ISD board policy, which states that the principal has the authority to excuse an absence. There is no district policy limiting excused absences due to a death in the family.

It isn’t material for my daughter. Changing it from unexcused to “other” would mean it doesn’t count against her for the rule that you must be present for 90% of classes to earn credit, and it doesn’t count against her being considered “truant”. These absences won’t impact her. I’m not pretending that I’m doing this for her.

I’m doing this for the little 12-year-old boy in 1997, whose world was turned upside down, unexpectedly losing his dad, who saw “unexcused” and thought that “this is cruel, but if I wasn’t supposed to skip school, maybe I shouldn’t need time to experience these feelings, maybe it’s better to act like I’m fine.”