Anxiety about the Unkown

When I was about 10, my parents and I watched “Iceman,” a movie about a neanderthal man found in ice and resuscitated. The question I had for my mom at the end was if it was ever possible for us to return to that state of being – unfamiliar with the technology of the day, and possessing only the most meager of skills. She answered that it was possible in the event of a nuclear war (this was in the mid-80s). Unbeknownst to her, I began to panic about the possibility of nuclear war, and the media coverage of the cold war only fed my frenzy to the point that I was afraid when I heard planes flying overhead, thinking it was the Russians about to drop the bomb.

My dad finally talked me off that ledge (he really would have been a fantastic teacher or counselor) one night, explaining to me that my fears were not founded in logic, and that I was safe.

I went about my life, and I was fine.

But every once in awhile, I get gripped by a current worry, and it turns into an irrational fixation. The internet is a wonderful tool and the most fantastic invention of our time, but during these moments, it is my worst enemy. Rather than trusting my own intuition, experience, and intelligence, I go searching for an answer from strangers who don’t know me or my situation. The answer must be out there, I tell myself.

how I worryAnd so, with my child’s future seemingly in the balance, and a boy who looked at me with panic in his eyes last night, asking “Do I have to quit band?” this is where I am today. In front of the computer, searching for answers, for someone to tell me the right thing to do. Do I choose one of the pre-existing paths for The Boy to follow through high school, possibly denying him access to college or, on the other hand, subjecting him to years of struggle and stress in general ed classes with little support? Do I try to blaze a new trail and fight for a hybrid that is legally his right (with little hope of succeeding)? Do I fight for ┬áhim to be in marching band when I’m not sure whether his love for it is more obsession or genuine interest? Do I just pull him out and homeschool (somehow)?

For my sake, I’m putting it out of my mind for a bit, waiting to hear when the meeting with the director of special ed will occur, and asking for the IEP to be postponed at least a week. Coping through distraction and delay. :/

 

Orientation

high schoolFor most, high school orientation is an exciting time. I watched the 8th graders sit quietly and listen to the high school administration and teachers speak in the auditorium, and afterwards wander the halls, almost running at times they were so excited to see their friends and figure out how the building was laid out. During the presentation they were told what classes they would have to take as a freshman, and that they may not got the electives they want because they build the schedule from seniors down. They were told about foreign language, core classes, Career and Technical Ed classes, and counseling services.

Not once did they mention IEPs or 504s.

Few teachers were there, and only two out of the three counselors for the entire 900-student population were there. It was not a night designed to speak to teachers, or counselors, even though they made themselves available in the hallway after the presentation.

I spoke to the band director who had been a no-show for a meeting the previous day during my lunch period (drove 20 minutes to the school, waited 20 minutes while he was in a meeting with the principal, drove 20 minutes back to work). He took the wind out of my sails by saying The Boy may be able to participate in band second semester if they add a second, more remedial band like they hope to, but that was pretty much our only option at this point. This Boy who adores band, probably has perfect pitch, and wants to be a band director…

I attempted to speak to the counselor in the hallway to find out just how all of this scheduling would happen with us, but another parent cut right in front of me, and by that time I was frustrated, tired, and hungry so we walked away, and I allowed The Boy one more stop in our wandering tour before leaving.

A registration form came home two days ago, and since, again, I had thought this would be handled by the IEP, I emailed The Boy’s special ed teacher, the one who coordinates his program and the IEP meetings. She responded that she is on indefinite medical leave and had no idea, maybe I should email Mrs. X…

I asked The Boy how long his teacher had been gone. “Since last week,” he said.

As a result of all of this, I am disappointed, anxious, angry, and frustrated. And my attempt to meet with the director of special education was met with a promise of a phone call. I’m afraid if she does follow through with the phone call today, she may get an earful.

Special Education should not be an afterthought, an attempt to comply with the law. Special Education should not be something separate that isn’t talked about. Special Education should not be a reason to exclude kids.

And I should not have to pull teeth to find out information about my child’s educational experiences and program in the coming year.

This is unacceptable.

Preparing for High School: Update

high schoolI had heard a lot of things about special ed in our high school, the different tracks, what they can take, where they can go with the different diplomas… I wanted to meet with people who could tell me definitively. And I got some answers.

In essence, we will have to choose a track by this spring, which will determine whether or not The Boy ever goes to a four-year college. That’s a tough decision for any parent of a fourteen year old, I think. And I think if they made general ed parents do this, there might be a bit of “education reform” down here.

There is an “occupational” track, designed for kids who are cognitively impaired, and have IQs in the 50s-70s. They are taught in special ed classrooms (segregated from the rest of the gen ed population), and the coursework focuses on work experience, heavily. If we choose this path, he cannot use his diploma to ever go to a four-year college. He may also not be able to take band, depending on when the core classes are scheduled.

Then there is the “future ready” track which is the general ed curriculum. They have a special ed teacher available to be in some of the 9th and 10th grade core classrooms. There is an elective study hall that special ed kids can take to get homework help. And that’s it.

We could start him in the “future ready” and move him to the “occupational,” but we couldn’t do the opposite. It almost feels like they set them up for failure in the gen ed track with little support, and then when they fail, funnel all of the special ed kids into the “occupational” track.

Everyday, special ed kids are denied taking electives in schools across this country, simply because of their disability. But because most parents don’t care about electives, and don’t fight for their kid’s right to equal access to the curriculum, nothing is done. But this is a smaller issue.

This setup, this all-or-nothing choice we have to make… this is something else entirely. I have a friend whose son is more academically age-appropriate than mine, and he is in the “future ready” track at this high school. His teachers don’t know how to modify his assignments, and he has to stay after everyday to get help from his teachers, on top of the “study hall” he gives up an elective for, so that he can have a special ed teacher help him do his homework. Is this really all they can do? Is this really all there is?

Yep, this southern state sure has opened my eyes to the reasons people homeschool.

UPDATE: I just shared an email exchange with The Boy’s former program teacher who said that the part about never, ever being able to go to a four-year college was absolutely untrue. Good news. But makes me wonder what other information the “transition coordinator” screwed up…