There Always Has to be One

It seems that every year, there is one teacher who just doesn’t get it.

I am overwhelmed by the amount of homework in The Boy’s science class this year, and it is supposedly being modified for him. This teacher refuses to give us study guides, insisting they are only made available for tests and not for quizzes.  However the quizzes cover an entire chapter and 40 slides from the PowerPoint they use in class.  What is assigned isn’t being communicated correctly in the planner, or conflicts with what is sent home via email.

I’ve been trying to communicate all of this to The Boy’s special education teacher, and she is doing her best, but she can’t control the general ed teacher and I don’t expect her to.  It’s just frustrating that yet again, I find myself providing the modifications for my son, and it’s just not my job.

modifications

This same teacher tried to “explain” to me in an email that he “grades on effort” because he knows that some students “struggle” more than others. Wrong thing to say to me. It offends me as a special needs mom, and it offends me as a former teacher.  There is nothing right with that statement.  I just have to figure out how much fight I have in me right now, and then I’ll figure out what to do next…

ESY Is Different Down Here

ESY, or Extended School Year, has been a mainstay of The Boy’s summer experience since he was six years old.  I have written about some of his experiences in the past, and he always looked forward to it when we lived up north.  Last year, he struggled with adapting to a summer day camp which did not include computers, and was not like school very much at all, although he ended up enjoying the experience and meeting some new (and long-lasting) friends.

Before we moved here, I asked some parents with whom I had connected in advance, through the autism society’s local chapter whether or not they knew anything about the local ESY program.  They had no idea what I was talking about…

“Uh-oh”, I thought.

When we went through the IEP process this year, the assistant director for special education for the school district was involved (because I was trying to get The Boy into his current program, and being the warrior mom that I need to be to get things done from time to time), and she indicated then that ESY for this summer would be a long-shot.  We would have to prove he needed it with data. “I’ve got six years of data backing me up,” I thought.

And this year’s IEP rolled around and his special ed teacher for language arts and math basically explained that even if he did qualify, which she clearly didn’t believe he did, it was very different from what we had experienced up north.  Down here, it was basically one-on-one tutoring with an aide for a few hours a week.

“Oh crap,” I thought.

I immediately began to devise activities with which I could supplement his summer camp – was there a computer camp or cartooning lessons I could find somewhere (and could I even afford it)?

The Boy’s program teacher called about two weeks later to let me know that they had determined that The Boy would qualify for ESY this year, because he had had it for so many years, and that they would continue to collect data next school year to determine whether or not he would qualify for the following year.

“Yay… kind of,” I thought.

Now we need to determine where this “ESY” experience will occur, and how often and for how long.  Luckily he will have his program teacher, which helps with the continuity.  But it remains to be seen how effective this brand of summer enrichment will be toward maintaining the structure and routine that most kids on the spectrum need through the summer months.

sandy boy

Autism and Progress

The Boy earned all A’s this quarter, and I was so proud.  I was over the moon, though, when I read his program teacher’s comment that he has made great strides with his social communication over the past two quarters (ever since he has started at his current school).

progress

You see, report cards don’t tell you much about neuro-typical kids, let alone those on the spectrum.  Traditional report cards, anyway.  They don’t tell you about improvement and progress, they are simply a snapshot made up of a bunch of other snapshots about whether or not your kid knows what the female reproductive part of the flower is, or what an Egyptian dynasty is.  Those snapshots do not tell you whether or not your child is making friends, able to initiate a conversation, or independently pack his own backpack.  Report cards most definitely don’t tell you those things.

And in an autism household, where we take every day as it comes, and don’t think too long or hard about where The Boy will be and what he will be doing in 10 years, because there is no way to predict, and therefore little practical use in worrying/dreaming about it, I really don’t care if he knows what an acute angle is, or what the word “illuminate” means.  I’m very glad he has access to the 6th grade curriculum (and would be fighting the system tooth and nail if he didn’t), but I know how little of it he will actually use in his day-to-day life (because no one really uses any of it in their day-to-day lives, neurotypical nor on-the-spectrum).  I am much more interested in that IEP progress report that tells me how he’s doing in terms of counting change, and flexibility with his schedule.  That set of stapled sheets that is a report on the defined goals that the people who know him best have set for him for the year is way more important to me.  Because the more he succeeds at making progress toward those goals, the more I can plan for his future.  Because those skills, the being-able-to-make-a-joke-that-cracks-up-the-entire-band-class-including-the-teacher skills?  Those are the ones he’s gonna need when he’s done with school.  And those are the ones I care about.

A Peek Into Their World

Lawson's_JournalYesterday, we had an informal parent meeting with the teacher of The Boy’s program and the county autism specialist to check in, and give some feedback about the program so they can satisfy their grant requirements.  Everyone was very pleased, and remarked at what a haven they have created for our boys, and how thankful we were for the program’s existence.  The teacher then told us we could look at our kids’ binders where they keep their journal writing related to their social skills class.  The Boy hasn’t done much of this because he is the only 6th grader in the program, and therefore doesn’t have much of a social skills class, but the other parents were like little children on Christmas, “Can we really look in their binders??”  I watched as they read the entries, pointing out certain phrases to their spouses, all the while reading like they wanted to get to the end of the book before lights out.  For parents who don’t often get verbal communication from our kiddos, this opportunity was an incredibly valuable peek into their world.

I’m so thankful for special education teachers who know what their doing, programs that provide what our kiddos need, and opportunities to connect with our boys, even indirectly.

Reprieve

Our meeting scheduled for today will not be happening.

IEP documentationI was feeling very overwhelmed, and distrustful — just what was the district doing by inviting 10 district personnel?  What is their goal, here?  Were they trying to intimidate me?  Through some calls to friends and local resources, I was directed to call the state department of ed, because they actually have a department that acts as a watchdog for parents and students, and ensures that school districts are following the proper procedures.  Come to find out, our district people had not followed the proper procedures, so I was allowed to request that the meeting be rescheduled.  And I did.

It may only be delaying the inevitable, but one of the things that they were supposed to do (and didn’t) was to provide me with a list of people who have been invited, as well as an agenda, of sorts — a statement of their intention for the meeting.  The delay will also allow me to marshal my own troops, which I didn’t really have time to do for the originally scheduled meeting.

I can’t tell you the relief I felt when I spoke with the incredibly supportive lady from the state.  I was really struggling to hold myself together that morning.  I was beginning to feel helpless and hopeless.  Fighting the system is extremely difficult, and I was feeling so alone.  But with all of the people I’ve spoken to in the last couple of days, I feel like I’m beginning to have a very real support network of people who can help me in my quest to get the best for my boy.

Tonight I can breathe.  Tonight I can get some sleep.  Tonight I can hope.

Big Meeting with Big Wigs = Big Deal

IEP documentationThis Thursday, I have a big meeting at The Boy’s school to first review and update his IEP (necessary only because when you move to a new state, they follow the previous IEP for 30 days, and then completely re-do it to fit their own needs), and second, to determine if he will be switching schools.

The county (district) has a pilot program that is housed at a different middle school across the county.  It is for kids with autism who do well academically, but need help with social skills and organization.  My friends here have suggested it for The Boy, the county specialist has suggested it for The Boy, and I thought, “Yes, this sounds perfect for The Boy, especially in light of the fact that no one at his current school even knows what autism is…”

So we got the ball rolling, and the county specialist asked the program teacher to come and observe The Boy… and that’s where we hit a snag.

The program teacher said she wouldn’t recommend him for the program, by and large because of the size of the pilot program’s school – it is much larger than his current school, although not much larger than the school he came from up north, I’d like to point out.  The specialist said we would meet to review his IEP, and then the team would make a decision about whether he could go, or whether he should stay where he is.

And now, I’ve been notified that “the team” now includes the usual characters, as well as the assistant director for special education in the county, and both the principal and assistant principal from the pilot program’s school…

Um… what?

Why has this blown up into something so huge?  We’re talking about admitting one little 6th grader into your pilot program…  I don’t get it.  I can’t begin to fathom their intentions, and to be honest, it’s intimidating.  I’d like to bring an advocate, but for several reasons, that isn’t an option right now.

I’m meeting with my “allies” after school today so that we can plan our “strategy”.  It disgusts me that this is how special education in the public schools works.  Our kids deserve better.  My kid deserves better.

Wish me luck…

Labels: Ain’t Nothing Wrong With Being Special

I saw a post on Facebook the other day with a picture of a young boy, and the words, “I have a disability. I need love. I need to play. I need friends. I need an education. My needs aren’t ‘SPECIAL.'”  It originally came from the Wyoming Governor’s Council on Developmental Disabilities, and on their main page, the group describes their “I’m Not Special” campaign, relating use of the word, “Special” to the use of the r-word, citing that many in the DD/ID community are offended by the term “special”.  The page goes on to say, “The label of ‘special’ in reference to a person with a disability does not convey equality. Expectations for success should not be underestimated to accommodate the ‘special’ label that is associated with people with disabilities.”

A picture of a rubber duck wearing a nametag, ...

Feel free to chime in below, but here are my thoughts.  The “I’m not special” campaign??  Are you kidding me?  Yes, THAT’S what I want to tell my son.  “YOU are NOT special, suck it up.  You are just like everyone else, and I expect you to do the same as everyone else with no support.  Stop using your autism as an excuse.”  That’s what the name of that campaign says to me.  Here’s what’s true: one of the tenets of special education, and educational law in this country is that you need to throw out the word “equal” and replace it with the word “equitable”.  Because the reality is that some people need more help, than others, and some kids cost the school district more than others – they need to have equal access to the curriculum, so the school has to take an equitable approach to ensure that.

And for the record, I don’t like the word “disability”, but I haven’t formed a task-force and anti-disability campaign.  My son has plenty of abilities, and has deficits in certain other areas, but he is not dis-abled.

The truth of this is that our kids with special needs do have special needs.  They are not typical children who can bathe/dress/feed themselves, or pay attention in class themselves, or do homework by themselves.  My child needs supports to be able to show us his abilities in certain areas.  He is able, but needs some help.  He is special, much like any child is.  And he is equal in worth to anyone else.  He can be all of those things – they are not mutually exclusive.

I also saw this pretty neat news story on Facebook.  That little girl’s flute sounds the same as all the other flutes, but it works differently, thanks to the special design of Mr. Woody.  Her flute is not less, but it is special.

The View from the Other Side Is Blurry

I had a post drafted for today, but I had to revise it.  I’ve mentioned the struggles we’re having with The Boy’s new school, and how little they seem to know about autism, and how to make modifications and accommodations that are necessary for him to thrive within the general education curriculum.  His teachers came to his IEP meeting with that deer-in-headlights look, as if they have never seen a creature like my son before, and had no clue about how to assist him in his learning.

As a teacher, I knew that ineffective teaching existed — I just didn’t really witness it.  I taught for over 17 years, and rarely did I work or come into contact with colleagues from whom I wouldn’t want my son to learn.  There were strict teachers and lax teachers, friendly teachers and more distant teachers, scattered teachers and organized teachers, but essentially they still knew what they were doing.  It was even more rare to come across a teacher who was not good with kids.  Even teachers who were not warm and fuzzy were still able to form relationships with kids and treat them fairly and professionally.

I guess that’s why I’m having such a hard time with one of The Boy’s teachers in particular.  They all seem a little lost in terms of autism, and a few seem a little scattered in terms of general teaching skills.  This one in particular has problems communicating, both with me and The Boy.  She assigns a crazy amount of work, even for a neurotypical student.  She uses rubrics, but they do not seem to assess knowledge of social studies content, rather the processes by which the content is expressed – for example, there is a public speaking rubric for sharing current events, and a writing rubric for a research project.  I don’t know for sure, but I can guess that she is not teaching about public speaking and/or writing in her class, so where are the assessments that give her information on what the students have learned from her?

More importantly in our own case is that she seems to dislike having a student in her room that isn’t “normal”.  She decided on the second day of school that The Boy should be placed in the resource room rather than go to her class because he wasn’t “doing the work”.  She wrote in his planner last week that he wouldn’t “answer” her.  She sent me an email today, saying that The Boy had printed off 43 pages from the internet in the computer lab yesterday and that there is a rule against printing without a teacher’s permission. She has made only one modification since the beginning of the year, giving The Boy a modified review sheet and quiz that she had printed off from a “special needs workbook” published by the textbook publisher, and refused to give him extra time to study as I requested, and which is also an accommodation spelled out in his IEP.

When I got the email about computer lab printing rules today, I could hear my pulse quicken, could feel the blood in my veins heat up, saw my hands clenching into fists involuntarily.  I took a breath, and reminded myself not to answer immediately (calm down, Mama Bear – Ha!).  After a few minutes, I responded that I would reinforce the printing rule with The Boy when he returned home, but also asked her to please remember that he has a hard time asking for help when he needs it.

And then I sat down to write this post.

And this seemed like even more proof that this woman was not nice, would continue to be a source of frustration and obstruction this school year, and was looking for any excuse to prove that my son can’t.

And then she responded to my last email, telling me she knew he didn’t do it on purpose, and that he shared his research project in front of the class by sharing his maps while she read his points of interest, and the children clapped for him.  She said it was a successful day for everyone.

And all of a sudden, my impressions of her became blurred, and a little bit of hope peeked through.

I can only hope that we will all learn a lot this year.

A ray of hope?...

A ray of hope?…

Reflections on an IEP Meeting

Our IEP meeting was Thursday, and I felt like we accomplished something, but I’m reserved in my enthusiasm…  More of a wait-and-see attitude about it all.

The good:

  • They agreed to implement his IEP as it came from our previous state, to the best of their ability
  • They agreed that training for the teachers in modifications and accommodations was necessary immediately
  • The teachers seemed to support his need for an aide
  • We finally fixed his schedule so that he would no longer have two math classes
  • They will be adding ASD-specific life skills to his schedule to replace the math
  • They will be looking for some sort of computer for him to use for assignment
  • They will begin to actually implement his IEP, and the ASD specialist commented several times that this was overdue

The not-so-good, of the “shake my head” variety:

  • The teachers kept bringing up common autistic traits, “He won’t talk to me,” or “He won’t do his work, even after being directed”
  • The principal asked me point-blank, “He won’t verbalize it if he needs something??”
  • They are going to do more testing, including a psychological and intelligence (IQ) test, even though he was thoroughly evaluated this spring in his old district, simply because the new state requires these other tests
  • My concerns about organization help and communication were not addressed as specifically as I’d like them to be
  • They included a note about following his IEP “to the best of their ability”

I think I was heard, I think they have a better idea of what needs to be done, I think I’m not “that woman” anymore.  I don’t know to what extent they will follow through on their promises, and they have a great deal to learn about autism in general, and my son, specifically.

I hope we accomplished something.  I hope…

IEP documentation

IEP Day

We’ve already had our IEP for the year (up north), but things have been going so poorly at The Boy’s new school that I called a meeting, and it’s today.  Luckily, I know the outcomes I want, and I know how to stand my ground.  I know enough about special education law, and I know a lot about my son.  I also know a lot about good teaching, regardless of the students in the chairs.  I’m not going to slander anyone, but I really hope for some changes to be made.  I’ll go as far as I can go, but I am prepared with contingency plans, as well.  I’ve spoken to an advocate, and I have documentation to support our cause.  We also have resources available to us, and I’m ready.

Let’s do this.