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ninanevermore.
.
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I should have run to the store and bought a lottery ticket yesterday; the drawing was last night, and my odds of winning seemed higher than usual because Fate, who likes to flirt but rarely delivers, was blowing me kisses like crazy. I never made it to the store, though, so I will have to be content to just go to my new job on Monday and call it good. The company I interviewed with last week called, and I accepted. I will be making almost 9 thousand more a year than I was at my last job.
Then my 6 year old came home with a perfect school conduct report – no trips to the office, no shoes thrown, no bites, no kicks, no nothing. This is the first one ever he has brought home that did not contain at least one distressing incident.
Nevertheless, every silver lining has a cloud. I went to my son’s parent teacher conference (the regular kind that the parents of all kids have, not the “we need an intervention” kind like I’ve been to before), and his teacher let me know that his one-on-one attendant, Ms. Lucas, would be leaving after this week. She was just a substitute, and she is looking for a permanent teaching position. I am pretty sure that his improved behavior has largely been due to the fact that he has had someone to be there and help him focus. He is still being evaluated for an IEP, however, and the school is not required to provide this extra help until there is something in place saying he must have one. I realize how expensive it is for them to provide a person to assist one child. I’m sure in the back of their minds (and maybe in the front of their minds) that the powers that be at the school would love to return to the good old days when a child like mine was just considered a discipline problem and could be expelled instead of accommodated.
My husband and I are bracing ourselves for all hell to break loose next week. I didn’t ask if the other special child in the class, Jack (he who “makes weird noises and does things he is not supposed to do”) will also be losing his attendant. The student teacher will be leaving, as well, to go back and finish up her teaching degree so she can graduate. Poor Mrs. F. looked worried.
“It feels like they’re taking them all away from me at once,” she said. I like Mrs. F. She has been patent and kind and understanding with my son. She has also been yelled at, kicked, hit, and bitten by my child on more than a few occasions for her troubles. I’m not confident that she can handle Sweet Pea, Jack and 18 other “normal” children all by herself.
“What happened to children like him when we were growing up?” I asked my husband. “I don’t remember any kids having special attendants when I was in school.” I do remember kids who got in trouble a lot and who got suspended. Eventually, they stopped showing up at all. As a child, I just figured their families had moved.
“They suspended them and eventually told the parents to keep them at home. Then they arrested the parents for not having their kid in school.” He was being sarcastic. I think. Maybe not. I really don’t know what happened to children like my son in the 70s and 80s; only that they went away pretty fast. At the time, it was assumed that poor parenting was to blame for such behavior. All unusual behavior was blamed on the parents, even if it wasn't disruptive. I was a shy, withdrawn child and I used to visit the school counselor every week, even as my son does now. My younger brother, now thought to be a high-functioning autistic, was downright strange. My mother used to seethe at what the school counselor told her.
“She tells me not to be so hard on you kids, to help you come out of your shells. You’re fine at home! You talk all the time here! I don’t know what she thinks we’re doing to you, but she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
I liked the counselor. I got out of boring classes to go sit in her office and read stories about Warm Fuzzies and Cold Pricklies. She gave me a tiny poof ball with feet and googley eyes, and told me it was a Warm Fuzzy I could keep for when I was feeling sad. I didn’t talk to my mother much about the counselor, because while she allowed me to see the counselor she didn’t like that the counselor blamed her for the problems the school saw in me and my brother.
The counselor at my son’s school is more neutral. She is focused on his behavior, and takes my word for it when I say he is different at home. She has seen his sunny side, too, so she knows he has one. She also knows that on occasion they have to use the Child Restraint Hold on him to keep him from hurting anyone. When I got that notice the other day, I had to Google what the Child Restraint Hold is. The adult embraces the child from behind, cross his arms over his chest and holds his wrists against his shoulders until he calms down. I had to sign a notice that this had happened after he kicked the counselor and pushed a chair into her. After a few minutes of being held, he stopped fighting so they released him and he calmly and happlily went back to class.
The next day, he had a perfect day. The Sweet Pea roller coaster is an unpredictable ride, at least at school.
Maybe I’ll buy a lottery ticket, anyway, just in case the magic is still holding over from yesterday. I like this part of the ride where the wind is in my face but where I don’t have to hold on for dear life and scream. I’ll milk it for all it is worth.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
.
.
I should have run to the store and bought a lottery ticket yesterday; the drawing was last night, and my odds of winning seemed higher than usual because Fate, who likes to flirt but rarely delivers, was blowing me kisses like crazy. I never made it to the store, though, so I will have to be content to just go to my new job on Monday and call it good. The company I interviewed with last week called, and I accepted. I will be making almost 9 thousand more a year than I was at my last job.
Then my 6 year old came home with a perfect school conduct report – no trips to the office, no shoes thrown, no bites, no kicks, no nothing. This is the first one ever he has brought home that did not contain at least one distressing incident.
Nevertheless, every silver lining has a cloud. I went to my son’s parent teacher conference (the regular kind that the parents of all kids have, not the “we need an intervention” kind like I’ve been to before), and his teacher let me know that his one-on-one attendant, Ms. Lucas, would be leaving after this week. She was just a substitute, and she is looking for a permanent teaching position. I am pretty sure that his improved behavior has largely been due to the fact that he has had someone to be there and help him focus. He is still being evaluated for an IEP, however, and the school is not required to provide this extra help until there is something in place saying he must have one. I realize how expensive it is for them to provide a person to assist one child. I’m sure in the back of their minds (and maybe in the front of their minds) that the powers that be at the school would love to return to the good old days when a child like mine was just considered a discipline problem and could be expelled instead of accommodated.
My husband and I are bracing ourselves for all hell to break loose next week. I didn’t ask if the other special child in the class, Jack (he who “makes weird noises and does things he is not supposed to do”) will also be losing his attendant. The student teacher will be leaving, as well, to go back and finish up her teaching degree so she can graduate. Poor Mrs. F. looked worried.
“It feels like they’re taking them all away from me at once,” she said. I like Mrs. F. She has been patent and kind and understanding with my son. She has also been yelled at, kicked, hit, and bitten by my child on more than a few occasions for her troubles. I’m not confident that she can handle Sweet Pea, Jack and 18 other “normal” children all by herself.
“What happened to children like him when we were growing up?” I asked my husband. “I don’t remember any kids having special attendants when I was in school.” I do remember kids who got in trouble a lot and who got suspended. Eventually, they stopped showing up at all. As a child, I just figured their families had moved.
“They suspended them and eventually told the parents to keep them at home. Then they arrested the parents for not having their kid in school.” He was being sarcastic. I think. Maybe not. I really don’t know what happened to children like my son in the 70s and 80s; only that they went away pretty fast. At the time, it was assumed that poor parenting was to blame for such behavior. All unusual behavior was blamed on the parents, even if it wasn't disruptive. I was a shy, withdrawn child and I used to visit the school counselor every week, even as my son does now. My younger brother, now thought to be a high-functioning autistic, was downright strange. My mother used to seethe at what the school counselor told her.
“She tells me not to be so hard on you kids, to help you come out of your shells. You’re fine at home! You talk all the time here! I don’t know what she thinks we’re doing to you, but she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
I liked the counselor. I got out of boring classes to go sit in her office and read stories about Warm Fuzzies and Cold Pricklies. She gave me a tiny poof ball with feet and googley eyes, and told me it was a Warm Fuzzy I could keep for when I was feeling sad. I didn’t talk to my mother much about the counselor, because while she allowed me to see the counselor she didn’t like that the counselor blamed her for the problems the school saw in me and my brother.
The counselor at my son’s school is more neutral. She is focused on his behavior, and takes my word for it when I say he is different at home. She has seen his sunny side, too, so she knows he has one. She also knows that on occasion they have to use the Child Restraint Hold on him to keep him from hurting anyone. When I got that notice the other day, I had to Google what the Child Restraint Hold is. The adult embraces the child from behind, cross his arms over his chest and holds his wrists against his shoulders until he calms down. I had to sign a notice that this had happened after he kicked the counselor and pushed a chair into her. After a few minutes of being held, he stopped fighting so they released him and he calmly and happlily went back to class.
The next day, he had a perfect day. The Sweet Pea roller coaster is an unpredictable ride, at least at school.
Maybe I’ll buy a lottery ticket, anyway, just in case the magic is still holding over from yesterday. I like this part of the ride where the wind is in my face but where I don’t have to hold on for dear life and scream. I’ll milk it for all it is worth.
