School Choice, through the eyes of this autism mom

How does school choice effect students like my son?  I thought about this question on my run today. It was a perfect late fall day for a run, and out there, as my feet rhythmically hit the ground, my mind sorts through all the random thoughts to find clarity.  Today's clarity came in the form of school choice and special needs kids.

I could be wrong, I freely admit that from the onset.  

School choice is essentially privatization of education.  Which may or may not work for typical kids; it definitely will not work for kids like my son.  It won't work for him because he doesn't conform, he will not quickly master skills, or demonstrate standards.  In a business model that rewards progress my son would become akin to a defective part.  He would be cast aside, kept quiet, with minimal support and even fewer resources.   His education costs significantly more and yields considerably less, from a standardized measurement perspective.  He didn't learn to read in first grade or second grade or even in third grade.  He finally discovered literacy as a senior in high school, though he still has a long way to go to be considered functionally literate.

The value of his education isn't measured by tests, or by mastery.  The value of his education is in the small triumphs each day brings. The value of his education is in the life skills he teaches his peers.   Nest time you hear someone touting school choice, consider what could be lost, consider who could be overlooked, consider the consequences for kids who have no voice.

The Birthday

Recently, Jackson's birthdays are melancholy.  I am filled with angst, fighting the long, worn battle of "blessing or burden."  

And I find myself here, spilling my thoughts and sharing my heart.

19.

I reflect on that time of blissful ignorance.  That time of infinite possibilities.  That time of hope and promise.  That time before autism defined my son; limited my son; imprisoned my son.  Sometimes it seems like just yesterday.

You know? Like when you turn around and suddenly the baby you carried is skipping into kindergarten?  Or you blink and your sending them off to college? Yeah, like that.  Once upon a time, in the south, when I was young and still in love, I had a baby.  He was every dream, every hope, every prayer answered. And now...he is 19; and he is amazing; I love him.  I hate his autism.

I get it. 

I know.

I know....

"Typical" 19 ain't so grand; it's probably sullen, moody, and messy.

This I remind myself when I find the darkness closing in; there is much to be celebrated.

There is, there is much to be celebrated.

And sometimes, sometimes there is so much loss that I grieve for what might have been.  

I get angry.

I get lost.

My heart leaks out my eyes.

I need to know that somehow, there is a way to a happy ending.

I see those words and realize I create that happy ending.

I choose that happiness.

For us.  

So tonight, I'm gonna let my heart leak out my eyes.  I'm gonna grieve, be sad, angry, and more than a little pathetic.  I'm gonna get it out of my system so that tomorrow I can get up and celebrate all that things that make 19 amazing.

Summer Advances

"The days are long and the years are short," and here we are.
Jackson crossed the stage with the same kids he started pre-school with, his graduation party was a huge success and he attended celebrations for several of his classmates.  It's almost August; many of his classmates are preparing for college life.  It's appropriate for me to pause, and reflect on all he has accomplished this summer; mostly to remind myself his journey continues, but also to encourage others walking a similar path.

Graduation happened.  It was REAL.  He  crossed the stage, he turned his tassel, he even posed for pictures.  He happily signed his name to over 20 cards and personally delivered them to classmates at parties.  In most cases, that was all he wanted to do, but he did it.  I could go on and on about the group of kids he was blessed to grow up with...the fact that he was invited to over 20 parties gives an indication of the character of these young people.   We wish them all well.

This summer has held accomplishments unexpected...Jackson asked to help paint the laundry room.  Though his help slowed the process, together we painted that room and the paint that dripped on the trim or floor is a reminder to me that Jackson did his part.   He also helped shovel landscape rocks, install trim, and attempted to mow the lawn.  Thanks to Pokémon Go, he has taken the dog on walks and willingly gone on bike rides. :)

His weekly outings with a helper have built financial skills.  He knows denominations, is able to give correct amounts and is learning to check his change for accuracy.  These outings are also helping him make decisions about how he wants to spend his money and to understand that there are limits to what he can afford.  We are very grateful for the care and commitment of his helper.

Today, he went to a new dentist.  Jackson hates the dentist.  I hate the dentist. Who likes to go to the dentist?  Well, I gave him minimal warning that we were seeing a new dentist.  I know that too much warning makes him obsess and that isn't ever good.  Together, we walked into the new dentists office (he has seen a pediatric dentist since he was 7, at nearly 19 it was time to explore our options for an adult dentist).  I held my breath as I completed the paperwork and we waited his turn.  Lisa, the hygienist called him back and invited me to come along...as we got to the exam room I asked Jack if he wanted me to stay with him.  He said yes, and I sat on the edge of my chair watching my grown baby cooperate and handle a cleaning.  I kept waiting for him to lose it, he never did.  It was the first time he had his teeth polished.  Maybe next time, he will try an x-ray...

This post is all about triumph.  Things that seem impossible can be accomplished.  When you believe you've hit a plateau, press on.  If you feel like your child won't; hold onto hope...someday he will.  Jackson has taught me, when you least expect it, in a way you never imagined, autism loses and life wins.