to my son
February 24, 2016 § 4 Comments
On the days I worry about you, I marvel at the strength of character with which you navigate the complexities of your daily experience. The honest vulnerability of your words and the steadfast faith in self despite conflicting cultural messages of conformity that denounce diversity with lessons in mainstream manipulations.
Special education* is still a work in progress, measuring success too often by an ability to perform dominant expectations – “normal” behaviors. Inclusion is meant to create a space of acceptance, so why do we still discount the differences that inform a more genuine image of the world we live in?
There are books and speakers, all who commit themselves to crafting lessons on modeling neurotypical behavior, but what of the unexpected wisdom of your experiences? What are we to make of those uncomfortable reflections of “normal” that highlight an inequality in empathy and discrepancy in worth?
These are the days that must happen to you. – Walt Whitman
It would be nice if they didn’t. It would seem to me they needn’t. But, alas, they do and we are changed, often for the better, because of them. Messy miscommunications create a dialogue, however imperfect. Just as you are learning about others expectations of you, you are teaching others about your expectations of them; one conversation at a time.
I love that you stand up for your beliefs with a passion equal to the sincerity with which you listen to other’s perspectives. No matter how many times you are asked to concede to a majority expectation, you advocate for your unique experience of an alternative sense of normal.
Sometimes even I get distracted by my expectations without considering yours. After all, you don’t ask me to change, you simply fill in the gaps of my understanding with your truth – patiently and with acceptance for my ignorance.
I’m sorry.
I remember the first time you drafted a letter of apology. A school aide implied by her word choice that you had behaved in a way that was difficult or disrespectful. I asked you to own your behavior with a note of apology. In your elementary penmanship you did as I asked, but then you spoke to your behavior and intentions. The aide acknowledged to me the truth of your perspective and complimented your character.
Yesterday you were asked to write another letter explaining a classroom conflict with a new aide. Thoughtful penmanship and specific quotes spoke to the same honesty in your experiences; a willingness to own your thoughts and feelings, responsibly and without excuse, while holding others to their behavior as well.
I’m thinking of framing the write-up, not because you were right or wrong, but because your integrity and confidence are admirable qualities more valuable than mainstream social niceties. In a handful of sentences you apologized, valuing another’s expectations and emotions, while gently affirming your worth.
You were teaching even as you learn.
Love, Mom
*I want to take a moment to acknowledge and celebrate the individuals who have been remarkable companions in my Special Education journey. We’ve a way to go, still, but I’m a better advocate for my children for your knowledge and kindness. Thank you.
good company
February 13, 2013 § 7 Comments
Today I shared a milestone with two very special companions, my husband and son. Together we met with our son’s principal, special education coordinator, teacher representative, speech therapist, social worker, and aide to review this year’s academic experiences and outline our goals for the coming year. This was the first time our son accompanied us to his annual Individualized Education Program.
Prior to our meeting I diagrammed the room where we would meet, marking who would be in attendance and most likely where they might sit. I wrote our son into the picture, too, before outlining the process of introductions and formalities. I was prepared for my son’s voice, but the sight of his deliberate signature on the list of participants in attendance was a source of pride. His pen stroke centered him in a significant moment, a beginning that he will reference for years as he joins us in mapping his future.
Sitting between my husband and son I cast a silent note of thanks into the air around us. On this day we were a team within a team; a room of invested and inspired individuals working together in harmony for a young man with big dreams and endless potential.
a new chapter
November 4, 2011 § Leave a comment
As I begin a new chapter in my family’s life I expect there are others with whom we share this journey that may find comfort, validation, or a sense of community in our experiences.
I have written briefly about my son’s diagnoses. Wise beyond his years he embraces his diagnoses publicly, but sees himself clearly without labels. In a world where he is forever trying to fit a round peg into a square hole, my son is content with his rounded edges. In fact, these very differences are so much of what I love about my son that it would be impossible to wish away his challenges.
Fast-forward from diagnoses to present day and you meet us at a new crossroad. My son is struggling in school and I have begun to realize he needs tools I cannot name. For all the books, conferences, magazines, and doctors I have sought guidance I am lost in the halls of academics. Recently, a moment of grace lead me to a woman who is patiently teaching me the language of advocating for my son’s education.
It is only the beginning, too early to share more than my location on a new path. But I want to mark this journey, celebrate a new milestone, and share my experiences as a mother navigating Special Education.
