I Can’t Fix This

“He must have neglected to turn it in.”

This is what The Boy’s language arts special education teacher told me when I let her know I had sent in the reading log for last week. She also said she doesn’t like to go into his backpack because it would be invading his privacy.

While I understand the sentiment, it smacks of ineptitude. That would be like a physical therapist ignoring your issue with your elbow because they didn’t want to ask you to expose it.

She went on to say that he is not completing work in class, which is an IEP goal, because he is spending too much time drawing. His TA (yes, his TA) came up with an incentive program for this, but the teacher claims that because the TA isn’t in her room for her classes, The Boy does not want to participate. And it’s hard because she’s got all the other kids in there.

Well, I’m sorry. Darn it, life is hard, and sometimes you just have to do your job. You can hope and wish and pray that your student with autism will suddenly find his missing executive functioning skills under a desk in the corner, but most people work on them instead. Because that’s what they get paid to do, and that’s what they’re in it for.

Could I call another IEP meeting? Sure. Would it do any good? I think you can cure this as much as you can cure autism itself. I think this is a response email, possibly cc’d to the TA who is the only freaking one at the school with a clue, and maybe we can muddle through the rest of 8th grade.

I hate that my son’s education has come to this. But there are only so many times you can bang your head against a wall. This particular issue is the teacher’s and not The Boy’s. And it’s not my job to fix it.

BANG HEAD HERE

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Who’s Afraid of the Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing?

Recently, I have written a few posts venting about my job. I decided to take that risk because I felt it was important to write about what happens when a person like me who cares for a person like The Boy has a work-life balance that is out of wack.  It is extremely overwhelming, and when work intrudes on home life, it can be incredibly defeating.  You need the job to care for your loved ones, but the job is actually preventing you from giving your best to your loved ones.

Today, my boss revealed to me that someone in our office made him aware of this little blog, and he has read some of it.

Luckily for me, I think it gave him some perspective he didn’t have before in regards to my need for more balance, and it was the jumping off point for a refreshing conversation between the two of us.

But now I’m left to wonder… Who wanted to get at me so bad that they would report what I say here to my employer?

This happened to a close friend of mine who had a crazy person create a big crapstorm about her handling of the finances of a nonprofit, contacting the state level people of the nonprofit (who assured her that the finances were just fine), and then even going so far as to contact my friend’s employer, anonymously of course, to insinuate that they had better check out my friend because she was mishandling money.

When you start messing with people’s livelihoods, you have a problem.

And so now, I am wondering about this little blog of mine.  I’m wondering if I still even feel comfortable enough to write here.  I’m not going to get stuck in the cycle of asking myself whether I should have or shouldn’t have posted.  This blog has never been just for you, or just for me.  It has been for all of us. But now that I know someone is reading who felt like it was necessary to take that step, use what’s written here for their own personal gain (whatever that was), and quite possibly in the end, could have hurt me and my family…

I don’t feel “safe” here right now.  And I have to think about that.

Let me know what you think.

Being “On Call”

I’ve seen reports from studies that indicate that those of us who parent a child on the spectrum often suffer from similar symptoms as those with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and does anyone really wonder why?  We are in a constant state of alert, listening and watching for any signs of anxiety and stress that are in a state of escalation.  As some of my fellow bloggers have written, we know our kiddos littlest sounds and know every bit of that language.

We were at the convenience store the other day, and we stop so often that the woman behind the counter, who really means well and tries to understand, takes it as a personal accomplishment if she can get The Boy to say hello. He happened to begin stimming and galloping toward the door, and she said, “Oh no! What’s wrong!” I calmly explained that that was his “happy noise,” and we finished our purchase and left. I realized that most people wouldn’t know that.  Most people also wouldn’t know that the “errr” that has bit of an edge to it and comes quickly after a question is asked is a sign of irritation and disagreement that could escalate, or that pounding either on the floor or any hard surface often is a precursor to pacing, at the very least, and a meltdown in the worst of times.

Listening, watching, and being “on call” for these little noises and behaviors 24 hours a day, 7 days a week can be exhausting, and why I so appreciate our weekly date night.  For one night, I can stop listening and just relax.

on callIt’s also another reason my current job just isn’t working for me.  Even though I don’t get paid much, I am expected to answer texts, emails and phone calls even when I am not at work.  Do I have to?  No, but the expectation is there (and believe me, I’d be in the dog house at work for quite awhile if I just ignored it), which means I can’t even have a weekend where I’m not jumping at every notification from my phone.

A big reason I left teaching was because it took too much from me, and I didn’t have enough left for The Boy when I got home. Now, it seems I have jumped right from the frying pan into the fire. I’d love to only have The Boy to be concerned with, and not other people’s ridiculous concerns about lunchmeat and plastic leis.  The Boys crises I have come to expect, know, and understand.  Anyone else’s seem assinine in comparison, and it’s that that is getting old.

Here We Go Again

Last week, I posted about feeling very overwhelmed, and I thank you for your patience.

Most of the reason for feeling so overwhelmed is that my job just sucks.  It does every summer. It is our peak season, and things get hectic, and my boss does not handle stress well, yet simultaneously craves it. My job duties change daily, and sometimes are diametrically opposed to what I was told to do the day before. Everything is an emergency, his schedule is incredibly erratic, and he gives no one the power to make decisions on their own.  A project that is time-sensitive may sit on your desk for days because you can’t get him to talk to you for five minutes to make a decision, and then when it doesn’t get done, the blame is placed squarely on your shoulders.  And somehow, there is always time for blame.

I got a dressing down this past week about lunchmeat, people.  LUNCHMEAT.

I’m to the point where I cry before I go to work (ok, only when it’s that time of the month… usually), and that is a very real sign that something needs to change.  Meaning I need to find a new job.

Yet, it took me five months to find this one, and I’m not exactly a shlub…

So, I look. I do the job search dance. I count the minutes and hours down during my work day. I take solace during the times when the boss is not in the office. I dream of walking into his office to give him notice, and have even toyed with the idea of simply walking out and not going back. And I hope for something better.

I really hate to wish the summer away, but this is really just too much for too little in return.

When I go, I'm taking my red stapler.  Because it's mine...

When I go, I’m taking my red stapler. Because it’s mine…

Still Looking

I usually post every weekday, but there was no post yesterday.  I was in the middle of launching an etsy shop as well as attending an orientation for substitute teaching in a neighboring county.  You see, I am still in need of a job.

Not a part-time, minimum wage job which doesn’t even pay for the gas to get there and back.

Not even a job that comes close to the salary and benefits I had as a teacher.

I need a job at which I can use some of the skills that I have, and have enough left in my paycheck to pay my bills.  And one that isn’t 52 miles away (like the one for which I was offered an interview this week that I had to turn down).

Timken Roller Bearing Co., calendar, September...

Unfortunately, I haven’t found that job yet.  And to be honest, it is wearing on me.  It is unspeakably frustrating to have skills for hundreds of jobs, and not even get an email or phone call.  So I have broken down, and enlisted in the “sub corps,” so called because the kids tend to treat you as sub-human.  But I can’t make that kind of money in one day anywhere else, apparently.  And my family has to eat.

Now I just have to see if I can get the health form filled out, which could be a challenge for a girl with no doctor and no health care… *sigh*