More from the jr high...

We had our first 7th grader meltdown of the year in my class today.  Its kind of like a badge of honor.  However, I don't know that I can rightfully claim it because it wasn't my fault.  Let's call this kid Bob (which happens to be my default name for all things associated with school).
Bob got lost before 3rd period and I happened to be in the hall when he first started to cry.  With his chin quivering, I showed him the way to his class on his little school map on his planner.  I think he made it to that class. 
Next period, Bob shows up and walks into my classroom again.  I was at the door once more and thought "Hmm- that's odd.  I have 8th graders right now."  Sure enough, here comes Bob bolting out of  my room in tears because he had realized he was in the wrong room.  I stopped him again and helped him find his way. 
FINALLY, it was 5th period and time for Bob to be in my room.  He comes into class, takes his seat and promptly bursts into tears.  I thought "I'll let him work through this one.  He's in the right spot.  He'll be ok and just needs a minute to pull it together."  I make some general announcements through the sniffles and inform everyone of the seating chart.  I thought maybe moving to a new seat would give him time to take a deep breath and compose himself....
Nope.  Sits down in his new seat and puts his head in his hands and continues to cry.  Ok- I can work with this.  He's calmed down to no tears at this point- just some red eyes and sniffles. So I keep moving on.  Bad choice... Bob continues to cry until its now quite noticeable and I could be known as "The Heartless Teacher who Let Bob Cry."  So I tell Bob "hey cute kid, let's you and I step out into the hall and take a minute, ok?"  I'm smiling as I direct him towards the door.  He leaves and I turned around and said to the other kids "Just remember- this could be you tomorrow!"
I get outside my room to see Bob hiding his face in the corner, sobbing to the point of not getting his breath.  The Ugly Cry.  So my first job was to get him breathing again.  Once that was managed by taking three great big breaths together, I asked him what was so awful to have him this upset?!  His reply?  "I HATE MY LOCKER!  I HATE ALL OF THIS!  I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE!"  Ok- so I take it you're not transition well from elementary school? *sigh*
I found some girls who went to find the nicest SBO I could think of, and Sara took time out of her lunch to walk him to his locker and help him learn how to work it.  He returned to class a little more composed.  I thought we were good....
Nope.  He stopped at my desk after class and his chin started to quiver again.  "Bob- I thought you fixed your locker, bud?" 
"We did, but I'm not sure I can open it again and I can't get to my assignments!"  *sigh*
I reassured him the best I could that all of us would help him out tomorrow and not to be concerned.  I'm not sure that helped much, but it got him through lunch.  I called his dad after school and let him know Bob was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day and wanted to move to Australia.  Dad's response?  "Ok. Thanks." ?!
Yep- no wonder.  Poor kid.