Thank God for summer holidays. Every school year, right around the beginning of April, I develop a semi-permanent tension headache - the kind that hovers in the temples, not really debilitating but a definite signal that I'm nearing crash and burn. So I need July, sunshine, down time, sand and waves. Time to not think, not worry, not plan.
The headache is born, I'm sure, of surviving homework, two report cards, homework, an Individual Education Plan meeting, homework, an Individual Education Plan review, umpteem kazillion emails, phone calls and mini-meetings with an endless array of professionals and homework.
This year was especially challenging. My kid started grade 6. In our community, that means Monster School - oops - I mean Middle School. (That little misnomer is not, incidentally, a reflection of the characteristics of the broader school population. It's just my facetious wee nickname for a model that is woefully inadequate, academically and socially, for many kids but especially those who have more significant learning differences)
Now, not to be blowing my own horn here, but I know my stuff. I know the system. I have insight into the challenges faced by students, families, educators, administrators and the system itself. I took all the right steps. I prepared. I focused. I strategised. I worked hard to develop a positive, collaborative relationship with the team. I chose my battles carefully and let the smaller things go. I did it all. Hear me roar.
I knew it was going to be a difficult transition, but I was confident that my experience would stand me in good stead. I knew that I was going to have to "sell" the concept of my child as a learner who is part of a community of learners to a whole new group of people. And not just to one classroom teacher, but as many as five for core subjects, not to mention an array for electives.
The first hurdle would be making it crystal clear that my kid would be doing her learning alongside her "typically" developing peers. No special rooms. No re-cycling program. No delivering attendance or "helping" the office staff. The education plan will support my kid in realizing her academic potential. That means accommodations and adaptations specific to her learning needs. It works.
There have been all the usual struggles with resources, staff turnover, lack of teacher training and experience, identifying and accessing materials that are appropriate. These are the tangibles, and there has been lots of advocacy, largely successful, to address them.
I wish I could say the same for the intangibles. I wish I could say I have succeeded at convincing the educators to see my daughter as a learner. Because they don't. They like her. They think she's lovely. They are happy to have her in the school. But they do not see her as a learner of academic curriculum. I have dragged the team, kicking and screaming, to a place of keeping my daughter in the classroom, but my only real win so far is the venue. We are in the arena, but only just. She is not physically separated from her peers, but she is educationally isolated.
The team's expectations are based on their beliefs about my child's label, rather than on her potential and her history. As a result, she has regressed this year. Her productivity is only about a quarter of what it was at elementary school and the quality of her work has declined correspondingly. She no longer takes pride in her work and where she used to insist on doing things on her own, she now sees herself as incapable. They have taught her to need help. As far as school work goes, her self-esteem has taken a beating.
There are some good things. She has settled. She feels a sense of belonging to the school community in general. She likes the staff and the other students. She doesn't have a best friend, but there are kids who are friendly. She enjoys the many social activities that happen at Middle School. It feels like progress.
Many would say "Well, that's a start!"
The problem is, I'm tired of being at the start. I'm sick to death of having to fight so hard just to take the first baby steps towards a real education for my daughter. We've been stuck on the appetisers forever, and some days it seems like we will never get to the main course. My kid is half way through her formal education.
I don't want to have any more conversations with kindly-eyed, well-meaning teachers who think I am an unrealistic, parent-in-denial, about what my child is "really" capable of, and what she should "really" be learning to do.
I want to have conversations with passionate, committed educators about how we can introduce universally designed curriculum so that my child (all children!)can truly participate, contribute, experience success and realize her own unique, great and wonderful potential.
I want chateaubriand and I'm stuck with.....oatmeal. Old oatmeal.
