Thursday, March 5, 2015

Part 3: You know your child better than anyone else...



The journey away from public school

We as parents are programmed to believe that our public education system with all of its educators and people with positions of influence (superintendants, school board members, etc.) all care just as much about our children’s educations as we do.  However, as we move forward in time it has become more and more apparent that in the United States that we are indeed failing as we do not even make the top twenty nations for education (all found in online databases through a collegiate library system) and that no one seems to put too much stock into what true learning is.  Much of what is being taught these days is how to take tests created by people that know nothing about education; these tests were put into place to try to monitor and regulate what a teacher is doing in a classroom.  The problem with this is that no one is learning anything, but what they put on the tests; children are no longer well rounded and the motivation that a child has is limited by the expectations of a test whose only real value is in whether someone can pass it.  Of course said tests do not monitor if the child is prone to text anxiety or whether he or she is going to be sick or have a bad day…the reality is that no one really seems to want these tests, but bureaucrats and politicians and I cannot say that they don’t have some other ulterior agenda.   When it comes to budgets (which are often low due to the hard economic strains and in some cases poor administrational decisions) children have long since been replaced with dollar signs and the poorer school districts are suffering for it.

In the case of special education…it has become even more of an issue as children with special needs are left in the back of the group and the idea of ‘No child left behind’ is more about just dragging the child into the next grade without actually giving him or her any sort of practical academic experiences.  For my sons, it was the next to worst thing to live in a failing and financially faltering school district whose income issues often meant a lack of education for my sons.  I will not go into detail which district this is; however, I feel strongly that the story must continue to be told and why it was that a woman that began a career in Public Education would suddenly decide to pull her children in order to focus on teaching them in her home.  Certainly there are arguments made for socialization and that my autistic children are suffering from the lack of programs (as you will soon see there weren’t much in the way of programs anyways) that could benefit them from participating in their local school.  What I saw was regression after regression, horrible IEP meetings where only the bare minimum requirements were approved, and a sinking feeling as the children you love are railroaded by a system that did not value their potential based on the school’s concern for a standardized test that they do not feel my children were able of passing anyways (all actually said to me in a meeting by a former School Psychologist and principal years ago).  Below are a few significant accounts that lead to the ultimate decision to pull my sons into homeschool.

Time hurried on and as I fought each time to get the things that my child needed to thrive I was being continuously told that ‘we are too small a district to afford to meet those demands’ and I would walk away with a sinking feeling as to the nature of it all; the school wanted the moneys that my sons brought to them without actually giving us a reason to keep them in their school.  It was disheartening but I stayed the course feeling that somehow they would have to do the right thing, because how could they not?  It wasn’t until finally going to see the boys’ specialists in Seattle that I was told, “Why aren’t your sons more ahead in their speech?  They really should be further along by now?” and then two days later in another futile IEP meeting that I was told by their inept Speech Therapist (generalized not specialized for autism), “Oh well your sons just really aren’t capable of speech.”  She said in a way that said volumes and was in response to what the autism specialist had said just days before.  Her pride was bruised.  The speech pathologist from the hospital had decided to call and offer help to this same therapist with her expertise and even free aides that were available and was turned down flat, “No thank you.  I have my own program.”  I wasn’t trying to be smug, but my question when I heard this from her (she had been the third therapist in four years, by the way) was, “And how is that program doing for you or for my children?”  She had no answer and actually sort of dismissed me.  She left shortly after that and a new person came in, but it was then that I knew the writing was on the wall.  This school could not help my sons and they had no intention of doing so. 

Through the next many months a series of incidents began to arise and I began documenting every little thing from them not following my suggestions to set up a schedule and use a picture education system to take my sons to the bathroom (effectively un-potty training my youngest son and humiliating my oldest one).  I was continuously told that the kids either weren’t telling them that they had to go or that they were in fact taking the boys.  My suspicions had been raised mostly through the fact my oldest son who never had issues toileting at home and while we were out in public, but seemed to have accident after accident at school.  At which point was treated as if I was either exaggerating and in some cases point blank told that I was not telling the truth of that matter.  Aiden had already reverted back to pull-ups as they refused to keep him out of them for their convenience, but Seamus was ashamed and often cried about it; telling me, “I told them, Mom.  I told them.”  I spent more time in the principal’s office and talking to the teacher than I thought possible, but in the end it was a mistake by the teacher that finally tipped the balance of that scale and the proof could not be denied anymore…

It was as the bus was dropping him off when I saw an animated bus driver scolding Seamus about having an accident; Seamus was in tears by the time I got to the door.  Although the bus driver was patiently and softly telling him that every time he didn’t tell the teachers that he had to use the potty that she had to clean her bus, I could see his humiliation and anguish all over his face.  I helped him off of the bus and walked him into the bathroom to give him a bath and as I was doing so I said, “Oh my Seamus, I promise you we will work on using your words to use the bathroom.”

With tear filled eyes he said, “I told them.  I told them,” and as I was taking his pants off I saw a pull-up that was not a brand I bought for Aiden and at that point Seamus never wore them…and it was so full of urine that it was leaking out the sides and all over the floor.  Proof of what I had been suspecting all along; they were not taking him to the bathroom when they claimed they were (they had been telling me for months they always took him before he got on the bus).  I safely got him in the tub and told him it wasn’t his fault and that everything was okay.  I would fix this.  I will not lie; I felt a fury that burned so deeply that I immediately found myself completely and utterly enraged!  I took that pull-up and placed it in a gallon size Ziploc bag.  Instead of Seamus taking the bus that morning to school I drove both boys to school that day and marched us into the principal’s office where I dramatically tossed the still leaking diaper on her desk.  The look on her face was quite surprised and then immediately turned to distaste, “All of this time I have been coming to you and Mrs. J * and told you that I knew that there was something amiss now I have proof.”

“You really didn’t have to do that, Doni,” she said curtly and I replied, “Oh I really think I did.  My words have been ignored for months and it appears that Seamus’ have been as well.”

By this time the teacher had walked into the office and looked on in horror as she realized what was happening.  The principal looked at her in total exasperation; I could see all of the months of backing the other woman up were taking its toll, “What do you suggest we should do?”

I had come armed and ready to go with a stack of potty schedules for them to use with my sons, the catch was that each time slot had a spot for initials.  Years ago I had learned that when someone signed for an item or had to put their name on something they became suddenly more responsible.  The teacher immediately became defensive, “I am not going to make my para’s sign those.  You cannot make me or them.” 

My response was, “Why?  If everyone is taking him to the bathroom as they say they are then it shouldn’t be a problem.  In fact, this not only will help the boys, but it will make sure I cannot come back to say it isn’t being done.”  The principal actually looked impressed and didn’t wait for the teacher to respond, “I think that it is a really great idea and we won’t have a problem complying with that.”  Victory.  Victory was sweet, but I knew it was just one in the many I had been fighting for over the years.     

It was that spring, however, that seemed to bring everything else into perspective as issues continued to rise with the way the boys’ education was being handled.  My heart became heavier and then the call came and it would change everything; how I thought about the school and about what I saw as homeschooling. 
 
(To be continued in the final part of this series and will share just exactly was the final straw to bring the children away from public education)

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