High School

     We are now beginning the transition to high school and nobody is less ready for this than me. Last week I went to the high school to hear about how my daughter's introduction is to be planned. My first foray into secondary school was the Parent's Night--- an introduction to the school administration, an outline of the programs, a schedule of visits back and forth, a panel of 8th Grade Leadership students and a tour of the school. I am feeling positive. The administration seem friendly, professional, competent and caring. The outline is comprehensive. The schedule begins soon---good! The students on the panel are bright, funny, and interested. The tour starts well until I realize that the L.S.T. (Learning Support Team) Room is at the top of the school on the far end of the 3rd floor and I don't think I could find it again if I tried. I am worried. I am trying to imagine my learning disabled daughter opening a combination lock and running up and down 6 flights of stairs with 1900 other students. I am trying to visualize her sharing a locker with a stranger, buying a lunch, finding her classes, making her way to the bus. I can't do it. It seems insurmountable. And that is the point. It seems unattainable to me. The question is--- is it impossible as far as my daughter is concerned? We shall see. If parenthood has taught me anything, it is that our children are full of surprises....I'll keep you posted.

Success

     Yesterday I was in tears, watching my older daughter at her children's choir performance, singing, dancing and enjoying herself. I was not crying because she had trouble singing the African words or keeping up with the African dance moves, both of which were complicated at times. I was crying because she did both, the singing and the dancing, so well. This experience gave me a taste of what life could be like for her in the future and it moved me profoundly. I am so grateful for the opportunity my daughter has to learn these skills in a safe and supportive atmosphere. Life is not usually easy for her. Yesterday it was beautiful and I saw it.

Fun

     Yesterday, we had a small impromptu party for my daughter's classmate who has left our school. We had snacks & pop, cupcakes & tunes...all the necessary ingredients for a good party. But the most important ingredient for a great party is each other; the friends and associates that are a part of  this particular community. I was so touched that people were able to drop by with their kids and give the child that was leaving, a proper send-off. Change is hard but it is harder still when we are not able to say good-bye.
     There is so much change & loss in our lives but it can be resolved if handled in a sensitive way. We seem to assume at times that children are so resilient; they don't need completion with certain aspects of their lives. My personal experience is yes, children are resilient but they like to be consulted. When we heard that a particularly well-loved teacher had left, I assumed my younger daughter would be devastated. She was sad and she did need time to talk it over and cry. When I asked her later if she would like me to try and arrange a last visit with this favourite teacher, much to my surprise, she declined. "I'm okay" she said. "I'm over it." I remember thinking that that was quick! There have been other times however, when efforts had to be made to have that sense of completion: a funeral for a pet, a balloon released for a death, or a phone call made to say good-bye.
     There is never too small a reason to have a party--- just the fact that it's Friday is reason enough for me! I just loved how some of the mothers went out of their way to bring their kids and even brought some kids that weren't theirs, just to make this child and her family feel loved and missed. That was a beautiful going away present that this family will never forget. And I won't forget it either.

An Ending

     When one of the kids from our school leaves, it feels diminished somehow. We have so few students that every child's departure is very noticeable. This student was in my younger daughter's class and had received a recent autism assessment. It was of course, a devastating blow to the family, just as it is to any family given the diagnosis of a profound learning disorder. There is so much sadness for the parents and other family members; the loss of some hopes and dreams, the almost certainty of difficulty and hardship in the future. So many unknowns and therefore, so much fear of what is to come. This is no easy road. Most every parent of an additional needs child knows this and still it is not easier.
     This child's mother has made a decision to enroll her child in an online program. Unfortunately, she has had to make this decision alone because the child's father has decided to step away from his family. Many families with profoundly learning disabled children come apart. This, at a time when everyone's input, energy and strength is most needed. This mother really needed, really needs, the support of family, community and society to bolster her resources and give her child the best chance possible: the village that it takes to raise a child. Now they will have to find that village, that community elsewhere. This makes me sad. I wish them every success and hope that this new environment will  more than meet the needs of this child.
     This student will be missed by my daughter and I hope that we can continue and build on the friendship we have with the family. I can't help feeling that we let them down; that I let them down somehow. What I must continue to believe however, is that they are on the right track, they are going down this road for a reason and that success will be theirs: one door closing, another one opening--- an ending and a new beginning. Via Con Dios my friends....

Out There

     The other day I wrote a letter asking our school community if there were any parents who wanted to meet together to talk about having additional needs kids in the school system. I have not had many responses but did not think there would be many--- I'm not sure why. Maybe it's just too hard to keep thinking about, talking about, writing about--- you get the idea. When I wrote the letter, I described my daughter and her challenges and so thought that I'd better inform her about what I was doing. She objected to everyone knowing it all. I protested, saying that her school speech on Purple Day (Epilepsy Awareness Day) was pretty much the same thing. She cried and told me that she wished that she was her sister. I cannot blame her. Her sister does most things easily and well, is liked by most of her peers and seems to have it all. While I cannot claim that I never wished the same for her, I explained that she would not be who she is if she were just like her sister. While I would not wish her learning disabilities and seizure disorder on anyone, I would never want my daughter to be anybody other than who she is: a sweet, chatty, curious, curly-headed angel who loves sushi, Justin Bieber and making money--- a helpful, kind, hat-wearing girl who yearns for friendship and loves her family. She is also becoming a teenager. She informed me that there will be no blogging about her once she is in high-school. This defiant pronouncement confirms that she is typical in many ways according to my close friend, and that she will cause us no end of teenage-parental conflict. Anyway, it's out there. I can't help thinking that there is strength in numbers and that  mutual support, information and education will also make us all stronger. That's what I'm hoping for anyway....

A Question

     Tonight my typical daughter asked me to read me her latest library book, just as my learning disabled daughter asked me if I had ever considered giving  her up for adoption. It was not an emotional question, but an informational one. She wondered if we would have considered that as an option because she had learnt earlier that other people had done that very thing, particularly sometimes with challenged children. While trying to answer her question, I was torn by sadness that sometimes children are given up. I was also imagining the sheer joy that a childless couple would have at the possibility of giving an adopted  child a life with them, as a family. It is hard to understand and to try to be in another's shoes when they are making such a horrendously difficult decision. It is a fact of life--- some children are raised by parents of choice rather than those of biology. I  have an adopted sister.  She also gave up some of her own children for adoption. Maybe that's why she gave them up--- because she saw the value in giving children a life with people who wanted them rather than (in her case) leaving them with a parent unable to give them the life she wanted for them. I don't know. All I do know is that our daughters are two very wonderful, very different human beings whose company we could never willingly forsake.  We are blessed to know them and to be able to raise them and keep them near. Not every parent has that opportunity. Whether they may not or cannot, their child's welfare is foremost. The object of one's loss becomes the subject of another's joy. And books are read, life is lived.