An Open Letter to Our Amazing Neighborhood School

To our amazing neighborhood school family:

After much discussion and deliberation, we have made the very difficult decision to move Bambam to another school with a dedicated special education classroom. As most of you know, Bambam has varied and complicated special needs. We have high hopes that his many needs will be sucsessfully met in his new school. But that didn't make this decision an easy one.

This decision was difficult for many reasons; not the least of which was the thought of leaving this amazing school. You have been his school family for 3 years. During that time he has been accepted, included, respected, and loved by teachers, administrators, support staff, students and parents alike. I cannot imagine a more positive, inclusive environment in any school anywhere.

The student population has been wonderful. Bambam has not been simply tolerated; after all, who really has a goal of being tolerated? He was accepted. His classmates included him when they could, helped him when he needed it, celebrated his accomplishments, watched out for him, and most importantly became his friends. Bambam talks about each and every one of them all the time. 

Some students have been in class with Bambam for 3 years, some for 2, some for 1. Some just passed him in the hallway or saw him in the cafeteria or on the playground. It didn't seem to matter. It appears they all know who he is. When we are in town or at the pool inevitably a child will come up and talk to Bambam. I sometimes do not know or recognize them. But they quickly tell me they go to school with him. Kids from kindergarten to 5th grade, they all seem genuinely happy to see him. The world could learn a few things from our little neighborhood school.

And so it is with a heavy heart that we are now closing this chapter and starting a new one. Please know that we could never thank you enough for all each of you have done for Bambam. I only hope that you too have gained something from the experience of knowing our sweet boy. 

And, instead of saying goodbye, we will say that we hope to see you around town.

Curriculum Night

I went to Bambam's curriculum night last night. It is the last curriculum night I will ever attend. 

Although on the severe end of the autism spectrum, Bambam attends our local neighborhood grade school where he is assigned to a typical 2nd grade classroom. It is his home room, where he starts and ends the day (when he's having a good day). It is where he attends (most) of the specials, ie: PE, music, art, library (again when he's having a good day). I applaud his school for their dedication to inclusion, we are so grateful for the community of acceptance they have created.

But in all honesty, Bambam spends at least 75% of his day with one of his aides in the learning resource center getting specialized instruction. Because while the other kids in his class are reading in groups, writing in their journals, or doing math worksheets; my son is learning to count to 20, the sounds of the letters, and how to write his name. That is, when they can get him to sit and focus for at least 5 minutes at a time.

Most days I'm good with this. Fact is, we've long since been down the 5 stages of grief road and have firmly landed on acceptance. We've accepted that Bambam is on his own time schedule, he will learn at his own pace. And he does continue to learn and we celebrate each and every one of his small victories. 

But, that doesn't mean that there are no longer times when I have a small pity party. And as I sat in that curriculum night listening to his classroom teacher talk about the children leaning to borrow and carry over in their math skills and showed parents their writing journals, I was sitting there hoping that Bambam was having a productive pooping time for daddy so he could wear underwear to school the next day. And it hit me smack in the face yet again. Just how far the gap is between him and his typically developing peers. And it sucks. Sometimes it just sucks. 

I cried all the way home. I was a mess the rest of the evening. I was grieving all over again. And really, I don't need that. It doesn't help anyone, least of all Bambam. And isn't that who this is all about? 

So I decided I will not attend any more curriculum nights. And if a teacher or other parent thinks I'm "that" parent that doesn't show up or isn't involved, they will simply be wrong. What I am is "that" parent who will focus on what is right for her child.