I look forward to this time of year so much. I did when I was a little girl and I still do today. Of course the reasons differ from when I was a girl and now…then again…in some ways they don’t differ much at all.
I just love this time of year. I’m nerdy that way.
Thankfully my family circus puts up with that. I like to pretend it is one of the more endearing things about me for them. OF COURSE they love me for my excitement over the first day of school.
Seriously, don’t burst that bubble for me.
Jodie did already this morning.
After breakfast this morning she announces, “If you have to take a first day of school picture, you better do it now.”
“Now?”
“Yeah.”
Representing the class of 2014, my golden haired, darling daughter, Jodie Grace. She really does love this…no, really, she does. I can’t believe this child of mine is a JUNIOR in HIGH SCHOOL now! I also can not believe how much she resembles my very own Mommy Dearest at around the same age. My mom was a gorgeous young woman, just like this girl.
Daniel was a little more cooperative.
To a certain extent.
And then he too was ready to just get to school…THE SAME SCHOOL THAT HE ATTENDED LAST YEAR. Yes, I’m all shouty because how wonderful is that? The kid gets to stay at the same elementary school that he attended last year. We get to the school and the same crossing guard who greeted him every morning last year was there to greet him this year. We walk on the campus and he points out the markers on the black top on the playground that direct you to the classrooms…I never noticed them before. He surveys the numbers and realizes that his classroom this year is on the BIG KIDS side of the campus. That’s because you are a big kid, I reassure him. Fourth grade is totally big kid stuff. My son is totally big kid stuff too. Here’s the part where I should get all emotional and teary because, yes, my baby boy, my little man is growing up. He is a one of the big kids. But no. Not today. Today I am celebrating my two youngest children are back in school.
I’m saving the emotions and tears for next week, next Tuesday when Hazel starts preschool. Seriously, how can that possibly be so?
Late Friday afternoon we were informed via form letter that our son will be forced to start school at a different school than the one he attended this past year…which was a different school from the one he attended in the 2010-2011 school year…which was different from the one he attended in the 2009-2010 school year. For those keeping score that means that Daniel will have attended four different schools in four consecutive school years and yet he remains within the boundaries of his neighborhood school, the school he attended in 2009 and the school three of his sisters attended.
So fantastically, fucking awesome, isn’t it?
I warned people last Friday F-bombs would be dropping.
Our family is so frustrated.
At his last IEP we discussed at length concerns his teachers and our family has had about his socialization skills and the fact he has no friends.
Can you imagine how heart-breaking it is to know that your child has no friends…doesn’t have a best friend? No one to have sleep overs with, to share birthday party invites with, to plan play dates with?
Can you imagine how HARD it is for a child to make and keep friends when they are shuffled every year to a different school?
As a child, from kindergarten through fifth grade I attended eight different schools…EIGHT. No, I was not a military brat. My family just moved a lot for reasons I never clearly understood. I was too busy trying to make a friend to play with on the school playground. A friend who could offer a little bit of respite from my adult responsibilities of caring for my younger siblings and mentally ill mother. And usually right around the time when I would have a friend whom I could play with at school and around my neighborhood, we would move away to another community, another school district, another school.
I can imagine how hard it is for Daniel at the start of every school year. Standing there on the playground, holding tightly onto his mom’s hand that first day of school, he sees boys and girls running all over the place sharing stories of their summertime adventures they enjoyed with their friends and family. They are rushing to hug teachers from the previous school year or the yard duty mom or the cafeteria lady. The principal is walking around the campus waving, calling out to his or her students asking how their summer vacation was and the kids rush up to hug him or her. That first day back to school can be so stressful for students as they anticipate what the new teacher will be like and what the next grade will be like. Thank goodness there is so much familiarity for the boys and girls to have at their school. It is an environment where they can feel safe and comfortable as they begin a new adventure in a new classroom with a new teacher in a new grade. For six years of my elementary school experience I did not have this; and now my child, Daniel, doesn’t get to experience any of this…not since first grade.
It sucks. It absolutely, positively sucks.
Yeah, I’m crying.
Everyone at the IEP meeting a couple of months ago agreed that he deserved and should have stability in having a home school…even if it was not our neighborhood school. They all concurred that socialization and making friends was an important part of his education experience. And so the school district’s office of special education, in their infinite wisdom, grace and mercy declared from on high that Daniel would be starting the 2012-2013 school year at a new school across town. Requests and agreements made during IEP meetings be damned.
To the school district officials who made this decision all I can say is, “Dudes, you have no clue what you have unleashed.
Hell.
Hath.
No.
Fury…
Fortunately, Team Daniel is a big team, is a strong team, is a team including people who are savvy in special education law and writing and implementing IEPs. They are people who have come along side not judging us but supporting us, encouraging us, reassuring us that we didn’t fuck up trusting that our concerns would be considered and addressed. We have demanded another IEP meeting for as soon as possible and have an advocate in place who will be attending this meeting with us…a very tenacious advocate who can and will fight for Daniel.
I have no clue what the outcome will eventually be. I do know a fury has been unleashed and we are prepared to fight for our son to have that which virtually every other child in his school district is afforded: a school environment where he can feel comfortable and safe so that he can indeed realize the wish the director of the school district’s special education department has for students like Daniel to have a “happy and successful school year”.
But ultimately all I want is someone my son can call his friend…his best friend…something that I always wanted as a child.
A few years ago, our family circus found ourselves at our kids’ high school football game because that is what we have done in support of our daughter, Abby, while she would cheer for her high school. It was always guaranteed to be a fun Friday night because the cheer squad was awesome, the band was great, the Wolf Pack was spirited and our high school team was pretty good…they still are pretty good. Seated behind us, at this particular game, was a group of high school aged boys engaged in conversation that included calling one another stupid retards, the visiting team’s uniforms retarded, a particular teacher was most definitely a retard…and on and on.
At one point, Daniel turned to me and pointedly asked me, “Am I a retard?“
I replied asking him what did he think that word meant. Thinking for a minute, he answered that people he knew used it to talk about stupid people and sometimes people called him that at school so he was wondering if he was a retard.
“No, son. No you are not. You are a very bright, hard-working, amazing kid. Anyone and everyone who knows you would agree. No, you are not stupid.“
Daniel sat there for a moment pondering what I just told him. He hugged me and then asked if he could go and hang out with Abby’s boyfriend.
“Of course, Daniel.“
Yes, my heart broke just a little during our conversation. How could it not? I looked down at Daniel hanging out with Jon and smiled and waved. Must maintain a happy, strong face I told myself. How else could I support my child against such attacks, even if they are indirect? It was then that my thoughts were broken by the boy directly behind me laughing over his friend tripping and spilling food everywhere. “Dude! You are such a fucking retard!“
I whipped my head around and looked the kid square in the eye and asked him, “Is he (the friend) really mentally retarded?“
“What? No!“
“Do you see that little boy down there?“
“The one standing next to Jon?“
“Yeah. Do you know Jon? So do I. He’s a good friend of my family. He happens to be friends with that little boy. That little boy who just so happens to be developmentally disabled…a retard as you put it…that little boy is my son.“
“I wasn’t talking about your kid…“
“No? Then what did you mean by that word when you called your friend that?“
The kid started to say something, then stopped, then started again, then stopped, then he muttered his apologies saying that he didn’t really mean it and had no idea that it would hurt someone like my child.
“Perhaps next time you say it you will realize and you will get it.“
After our exchange, the boys got up and slunk off to the snack bar. Later on during the game I spied that kid hanging out with Jon and even talking to Daniel. I won’t pretend that my conversation with him made too much of a difference because, after all he was just a smart-alecky kid; but I’d like to think that watching the game and interacting with Daniel made him appreciate all the more just how awesome and even normal a kid like Daniel is. I can only hope that that kid would get it.
Anyone who has read this Adventures in Juggling of mine for any length of time knows that I do not like the usage of the word “retard”. Anyone who knows me even more closely perhaps gets why…I am the mother of a child living with cognitive and developmental disabilities. But, truth be told, I have never cared for the use of the word “retard”. In my opinion, there are more better ways to articulate when one finds a situation, a thing or even a person to be frustrating, stupid, foolish, dense, futile, idiotic, inane, ludicrous, clumsy, pointless, irrelevant, simple, slow, sluggish, thick, trivial, ignorant, vacuous….and on …and on. I am so much smarter than to resort to the use of one word when describing anything or anyone I find to match any of the above words. At least that is how I see it. Add to that belief is the fact that through the years, long before I became Daniel’s mother, I saw how a word like that used so casually could hurt someone. I have known many families with children living with physical, developmental, cognitive disabilities. I saw how people’s words and attitudes hurt. I got it…or at least I thought I did. Then through that short conversation with my child I realized all the more just how hurtful it really was. Whether people use that word to my son’s face or not it hurts…pure and simple, it hurts.
I get it.
Do you?
Everywhere around me, I am surrounded by people who use that word with seemingly no thought at all…at the mall, at the football games, at the dance studio, at school, at the tae-kwon-do studio at the coffee shop, in polite conversation with me…everywhere. No, I don’t believe that most of them would ever intend to hurt my child…yet they do…every time they use that word.
He hears you.
He understands you.
Today is Spread The Word To End The Word Day, part of an ongoingcampaign against the r-word created by The Special Olympics. Close to 250,000 people have signed a pledge against the word “retard.” Today I call everyone out who uses that word who reads this blog…who knows Daniel, whether personally or through this blog.
