Inclusion Starts with “Hello!”

Thursday night, The Boy and I ventured to one of the marching band rehearsals from which he has been excused, due to logistics and conflicts with summer day camp. We wanted to just stop in and possibly say hi, meet some people, help with the transition. I made arrangements to leave work early so I could pick him up and get him there before it was over. We arrived and discovered the brass section in the band room. I told The Boy we would wait until they were on break to enter, so as not to disturb them. After waiting for a good bit with no break, he wanted to find the woodwind section to see how many of his friends from last year were in attendance.

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He loves it so much..

We found them in the library and were welcomed in by the band director. We sat and listened for a bit, and decided to head back to see if the brass were on break. They were, so we walked in, and The Boy’s middle school director was at the front of the room. I can’t quite describe the look he gave us when we walked in, but it was not pleasant. He didn’t say anything – not, “Hello,” not “Hey,” – nothing. No welcome, and no introduction for The Boy to this room full of kids who didn’t know who he was, save for a few. The Boy, oblivious, walked over to one of his friends and gave her a hug as she sat, and then I suggested we leave again, as our presence certainly did not seem to be welcome. We went back to the library and the woodwinds were being released back to the band room for a full rehearsal. The high school band director greeted The Boy again, and The Boy talked his ear off the whole way back to the band room. We listened for a bit to the full band play, and suggested again that we leave before everyone was released, and The Boy agreed.

He may be oblivious, but I am not.

While thankful the high school band director at least had the sense to appear welcoming, I’m sad that none of the high school students had the wherewithal to introduce themselves to The Boy. I’m disappointed that not one of the three drum majors, students in high levels of leadership, recognized their duty to welcome a member, albeit a non-traditional one. I’m livid that a professional educator who taught my son for two years cannot even greet him, and would go out of his way to make him feel unwelcome.

And right now I’m at a loss. I knew this wasn’t a terribly inclusive group to begin with, based on The Boy’s friend’s experience last year, who is also on the spectrum, and lacked a single friend in the group even at the end of the season. I knew I wouldn’t gain any friends by forcing our way into the group, even with the weight of the law and human decency behind us. But I have not been so uncomfortable, and made to feel so incredibly unwelcome since I encountered mean girls in my own middle school experience. It was that palpable. Do I try to educate and advocate? Do I engage outside help either from school administration, the autism society, or the state band directors association?

Or do I give up?

Is this really worth it?

I don’t know. All I know is that this shouldn’t be.

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When Work Sucks

I love my job.  I love being busy, I love having some responsibility (and a title).  I love being a leader in the office.

But there are aspects of my job that are really just too much, sometimes.  I have quite a background in educational leadership and administration which actually isn’t a far cry from business management.  Simply put, a good leader is a good leader, and good management practices are good management practices.  And it is still easy for me to identify examples of bad leadership and management practices, too.

I work in a culture of blame, and I hate that.  Good leaders use mistakes to help guide people to better work, and to help create better procedures.  Poor leaders point fingers and end up making good workers wonder why they work so hard, or even quit.  Two people walked off the job this Sunday.  Two, of an office staff of six.

Today, I busted my behind, trained two new employees, handled a million phone calls, and even booked some private charters.  I went home feeling pretty good about the productive day I had.  And about an hour after I got off work, I got a phone call from my boss, asking me about something at work which he clearly felt was a mistake I had made.  I had not made a mistake, but in his mind, he had to blame someone, so it was me.  And instead of feeling good about being productive and working hard today, I end up with a sick feeling in my stomach this evening about his perception of my fault, even though none existed.

More and more, every single day is stressful, and that means I have less to give when I get home at night, which is absolutely no good.

Jobs are hard to find.  In five months of searching last year, I got very few calls for interviews, and only one real offer.  Do I consider leaving?  Yes I do.  Definitely on evenings like tonight.

How do I deal with it?  My boys.  I spend time with my family and they make me laugh.  It may sound clichè, but they remind me why I am really on this planet.  It’s not for other people’s kids, and it’s most certainly not to take reservations for boat trips.  It is to love and spend time with my guys.  Yes I need a job to pay the bills, but my job is the small stuff as compared to The Boy and The Man.  Remembering that is how I deal with the rest.