What's a Swamp Mother to Do?

I hardly know what to say about N’s school so far. I haven’t written much about it, except that we did not send him back to our regular school district this year, and that my coping with his entrance into high school has sent me in search of chocolate and purses. This education thing is hard. And the cumulative effect of all the years of being on guard and in defense posture may have made me a little wacky . . . and very wary. (You may think I meant “weary”. That, too.)

Seeing as our district made it somewhat clear back in the spring that they were going to assign him to a certain high school, I began to search out other options. I only did that after I spent several days at this school trying to figure out how it could possibly work for N. To say that the facility is woefully inadequate would be putting it mildly. The basement is mostly reserved for the students with special needs, and it is routinely called “The Swamp”. I spent time in the swamp, I sent N to “shadow” in the swamp, and I interviewed others who had swamp experience. I even have depressing quotes from a former swamp teacher who asked me not to repeat them. What is a “would be” swamp mother to do, except go rogue?

We left the district. Where we are now provides no special services. But they are more than kind and are accommodating in every way. The whole thing was the idea of my Neighbor Friend. (She is her own form of a super hero . . .) And she approached this very unusual school with the idea. And they said yes! Actually, not only yes, but, How can we help make this work and work well? Wow! We can scarcely believe it. The swamp mother thinks she likes life outside the swamp.

Better, Not Bitter

As I re-read my last post, I thought, “Hmm, I sound sorta bitter about my dealings with the ol’ school district and their people.” To tell the truth, I think that often I am. Really, things could be so much better, but it doesn’t seem that there are many administrators who really get it. We have had some phenomenal teachers who have been open-minded, kind, and very creative with regard to inclusion, and my son has had some good years, despite the Special Ed Administration. Maybe these people are overworked and are burned out on meetings and lack of funding.

I have heard it said, “Let tough circumstances make you better, not bitter.” So I have to ask, How am I better because of my dealings with our school district administrators? Here are several ways. I have learned to be prepared. As in, be prepared for anything crazy that these people might suggest. I have had it suggested to me that my son be dropped off at a different point at the school so that he might think he was being taken to a different school. (Yes, they really did say that.) They have turned me into the master of asking, “What? Are you serious?”. Being prepared with that question has helped me in all matter of circumstance.

I have also learned to be persistent. This is another trait that can have lots of value in other situations. The old “squeaky wheel gets the grease” and “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again” have been put to the test and rewarded more times than I can count in my school meeting dealings. Life demands persistence, and I am grateful to have developed a tendency toward it.

Another way I have become better is through learning to become creative. If something I requested for my son got vetoed, I learned to swap it for something else just as good, but couched in different terms. This is an art I still need to develop, for it often requires quick thinking and good negotiating skills.

I have also become more aware of humor in situations. The neighbor friend that I have referenced has referred to some school meeting situations as, “Straight out of a Saturday Night Live skit”, which has been so true!

So, all of that was not for nothing, and it has made me wiser and more bold for the sake of my son. But there is more I want from the experience. I desperately want my experience to count for something for other people. I don’t want the battles fought to be for nothing, so that the “powers that be” can go about doing the same thing they did before us, keeping status quo. I want it to count as forward progress for students with special needs in the public school system. What can I do to make lasting change and promote willingness to try new things for the cause of inclusion? At times, it burns in me to make more things better than just me.

Like a Good Neighbor . . . .

This girl is THERE! We have lived in our current home for 12 years, but I knew her before she moved into the neighborhood. Thankfully, in a small city like ours, those of us who have children with special needs tend to find each other FAST. This friend is a transplant from another state whose daughter is a little more than 4 years older than my son. She is one of the spunkiest advocates I have ever met. I was drawn like a magnet to this lady's energy and was amazed at her ability to take life on with such humor and determination. I can’t remember exactly where we met, because it seems like I’ve always known her. It was probably through coming and going at therapy when my son was a toddler.

I can’t say enough about what all she has taught me through the years. I truly cannot imagine where we would be without her relentless spirit that pushes me to “just try it; what’s the worst thing that could happen?”. Her innovative approach to life and parenting and her “out of the box”, outrageous thinking make me smile each time we talk. Once, in desperation and after many unprofitable discussions, (knowing she was right), she threatened a certain school district with chaining herself to the flagpole if they did not try something different for her daughter. Whoa!! And they knew she meant it! She is a kind –hearted, quick thinker who won’t take no for an answer. And she taught me a little about the latter. I needed it because, these days, school meetings can require more perseverance than a training Olympian. Without her coaching, I know that my child would not have had half the opportunities he has had, and I would still be a wimp. (Make that—more of a wimp.)

Happily, she has lived in my same neighborhood for about the last 10 years and our children SO enjoy one another’s company. It was this very woman who encouraged me to put N. (my son) on the swim team. The boy who was more–afraid-of-water-than-anyone-in-the-world –ever-has-been, yes. It mattered not to her that he wouldn’t go in over his knees at the pool without putting the death grip on one of his parent’s throats. He screamed until all eyes were upon us, then the guilty parent would return him to the shore. This went on for 9 long years. And it seemed to be getting worse, not better. I just wanted him to be safe if he ever fell in, and my friend said, “Just put him on the swim team.” Uh, . . . okay . . . .? That’s how she thinks.

Soon after this bodacious suggestion, he made a miraculous attempt to catch a ball in deeper water. He realized he still had all limbs intact, etc., so the self-inflicted, deep water ban was over. Yay! AND, he was put on the swim team. The rest seems so unbelievable—that he loves the water, works out, and has competed in Special Olympics and a few other meets! This sport has been great for him. We are amazed at his muscle tone, strength, and self confidence. Thanks to the Best Neighbor Anyone Could Ask For.

Who would have thought it?? . . . . SHE would.