Today is the day, the last day of elementary school for my special fella. We are both a mixed bag of emotions. As we snuggled on the couch talking about the final week of school, I used the word bittersweet. Ryan told me he didn't understand that word and how it pertained to his week full of field trips, 5th Grade Funfest, yearbook signing and saying goodbye, so we looked it up. And thanks to the laziness of technology, I didn't even have to get off the couch to do so.
Bittersweet: 1. being at once bitter and sweet; especially: pleasant but including or marked by elements of suffering or regret.
Bittersweet: 1. being at once bitter and sweet; especially: pleasant but including or marked by elements of suffering or regret.
I described to Ryan that if he were to eat an orange wedge and accidentally bit the peel, he would taste the sweetness of the orange's juice while at the same time his lips would pucker at the bitterness of the peel. Ah yes, today will most certainly be bittersweet. The bitter peel of Ryan's day today will be leaving behind the routine of a world he knows as well as Mario's, leaving a school that is familiar to him, a school where he grew and thrived, a school where he felt safe, secure and happy. I explained that the juicy, sweetness of today will be moving on, growing up, learning new things and of course, having pizza as a daily choice in the middle school cafeteria. Lord, please let there always be a choice of plain pizza and let it always be in the shape of a triangle, not a rectangle or square. Amen.
As the recess bell rings one last time (Ryan was not happy to learn that losing recess was a payoff for daily pizza days), I would be remiss if I did not give a shout out to all the teachers and staff who have contributed to Ryan's success. I can't imagine a better place on Earth where he would have flourished more than his fabulous elementary school. Ryan was so fortunate each and every year to get such high quality teachers who worked hard to understand him and help him learn.
I distinctly remember as kindergarten came to an end, a sense of uncontrollable panic overcoming me. Not only did Ryan survive the change from daycare to kindergarten he excelled. When Ryan wrapped up kindergarten with Mrs. B, I thought, "How will any other teacher compare?". I even begged, groveled and bribed Mrs. B to please move up to first grade the following year so Ryan could have her again. After all, Ryan NEEDED her! Mrs. B loves kindergarten and decided to stay put and although I understood, I still secretly wished a classroom full of devil children on her the next year (only for a second).
Of course I spent the entire summer wringing my hands and asking every parent I passed in the grocery store which first grade teacher was the best. Needless to say, I got various opinions and it sounded like any one of the teachers would be great, but the parents I talked to did not have a child with an autism spectrum diagnosis, so any ole' teacher would not do for my son. Like so many things in my life, my hand wringing and worrying were all for not since Ryan was assigned to Mrs. F's classroom. Mrs. F stood for FANTASTIC! She picked up right where Mrs. B left off. Mrs. F always knew there was more to Ryan than he would let on so, when he shut down or said, "I can't", she pushed him until he proudly said, "I can". I loved Mrs. F and so did Ryan!!
Although kindergarten and first grade went beautifully, second grade was the year I feared. The year the pediatrician warned me about. You see, kindergarten and first grade are comprised of a lot of rote memorization and with Ryan's near photographic memory, ABC's and 123's were a breeze, but second grade was more about applying concepts, reading comprehension and....shudder....writing. These things did not come quite as easily to Ryan. Up until second grade, I had not officially shared Ryan's diagnosis with the school. My partner in crime, Denial and I were still BFF's and although we both loved our Coach handbags, I feared a very different kind of label in the school system. I shared with Mrs. B and Mrs. F privately Ryan's diagnosis, but I did not hand over THE evaluation just yet. I knew that second grade would be the critical year that would determine which direction Ryan would head. Fortunately, for this oh so critical year, The Fates were looking out for Ryan and he got THE teacher. The one teacher that every student (if The Fates are with them) has at some point in their educational career. THE teacher who makes all the difference.
To this day, I believe that Mrs. M helped forge the path Ryan has taken from the first day he entered her classroom to the moment today when he will walk across the stage to receive his elementary school "diploma". Believe me, Ryan and Mrs. M had their share of growing pains, but once they figured each other out, Ryan's confidence, his self-esteem, and his eagerness to learn skyrocketed. This little boy who struggled to pick up social cues and understand emotions knew, in a very short period of time, that Mrs. M cared about him and wanted to help him, so eventually, after many trials and errors, he let her.
I'm convinced that Mrs. M is the reason Ryan is where he is, and in some respects, where he is not, today. Mrs. M was not some highly trained autistic support teacher, in fact she admitted early on that she didn't know a lot about autism spectrum disorders or sensory integration disorder. Mrs. M would call me and ask if there were books she could read, advice I could give her, strategies she could use or therapists she could speak to that would help her understand Ryan. Mrs. M wanted to learn about autism because she wanted to better understand Ryan in order to reach him AND teach him. Mrs. M did not want Ryan to get lost so she did everything she could to find him.
Like I said, it took a while for the two of them to find their groove. There were times when Mrs. M pushed too hard and Ryan would cry and completely shut down. There were times he had to stay in over recess in order to complete work because he got stuck and needed her help and attention. It was frustrating for both of them. Mrs. M could have taken the easy way out for both of them and let Ryan "slide". We have all heard the horror stories of children who continue to move on to the next grade and the next only to discover down the road....often when it's too late....that the child is years behind due to "sliding". No way was Ryan, or any child in Mrs. M's classroom, going to "slide" through second grade. There were many occasions where Ryan would get overwhelmed, stuck and close himself off and Mrs. M would lose him for a while, but she would fight for him and always find a way to bring him back. It took those moments of pushing Ryan harder than he liked and challenging him more than felt comfortable, to make him achieve more than he thought he could, to make him feel like he really mattered, and to make him smile in confidence at the work he accomplished. Mrs. M made all the difference.
When I finally decided to share Ryan's diagnosis and THE evaluation with the school district, it was determined that a 504 Plan would benefit Ryan. A 504 Plan allows accommodations in the classroom, but still keeps the student in regular education, not special education. Walking into Ryan's first 504 meeting I was utterly terrified, overwhelmed and immediately began to sob. I felt like Mrs. M was my only ally in the room, aside from Denial. With several of the recommended accommodations, the guidance counselor would "tut, tut, tut" with a "that's out of the realm of the regular ed teacher's scope of duties" and with each "tut, tut, tut", Mrs M. responded with a "I can do it", or "I will do it" or "It's no problem". All. The. Difference. My gosh how I love her.
Like I said, it took a while for the two of them to find their groove. There were times when Mrs. M pushed too hard and Ryan would cry and completely shut down. There were times he had to stay in over recess in order to complete work because he got stuck and needed her help and attention. It was frustrating for both of them. Mrs. M could have taken the easy way out for both of them and let Ryan "slide". We have all heard the horror stories of children who continue to move on to the next grade and the next only to discover down the road....often when it's too late....that the child is years behind due to "sliding". No way was Ryan, or any child in Mrs. M's classroom, going to "slide" through second grade. There were many occasions where Ryan would get overwhelmed, stuck and close himself off and Mrs. M would lose him for a while, but she would fight for him and always find a way to bring him back. It took those moments of pushing Ryan harder than he liked and challenging him more than felt comfortable, to make him achieve more than he thought he could, to make him feel like he really mattered, and to make him smile in confidence at the work he accomplished. Mrs. M made all the difference.
When I finally decided to share Ryan's diagnosis and THE evaluation with the school district, it was determined that a 504 Plan would benefit Ryan. A 504 Plan allows accommodations in the classroom, but still keeps the student in regular education, not special education. Walking into Ryan's first 504 meeting I was utterly terrified, overwhelmed and immediately began to sob. I felt like Mrs. M was my only ally in the room, aside from Denial. With several of the recommended accommodations, the guidance counselor would "tut, tut, tut" with a "that's out of the realm of the regular ed teacher's scope of duties" and with each "tut, tut, tut", Mrs M. responded with a "I can do it", or "I will do it" or "It's no problem". All. The. Difference. My gosh how I love her.
If Mrs. M had not tried to understand autism, had not tried to understand Ryan, or had a different teacher with a different heart been sitting in that room, I have no doubt, Ryan would have been given an IEP and one more label. I was still sitting next to Denial at the time while she clutched her Coach bag, sat on her True Religion Jeans while nervously tapping her Prada shoes and I was terrified of one more label (Special Education) parading around that room. If I'm being AWEnest, when Ryan's battered, squishy, red face was placed into my arms in the delivery room, I didn't think, "I wonder if he will be autistic or be a Special Education Student?". Those thoughts don't cross a mother's mind until they have to....and it hurts like he** when they do. And unlike the delivery room, there is no option for an epidural to ease the pain.
Middle school may be the year that a 504 Plan no longer cuts it for Ryan, so he may get, yet, one more label slapped into his file. Fortunately, I have long since kicked Denial and her label flashing ways to the curb (most days), and I'm not as naïve or resistant as I once was about "Special Education", so we will cross that bridge if or when we come to it. I believe in my heart that Mrs. M helped an anxious, uncertain, highly sensitive little boy and his neurotic, could be committed mother, down a road that was at times bumpy, filled with ruts and overcome by the occasional mudslide, avoid that bridge and prepared my son for the list of fabulous teachers that followed her. Each and every one of them making an impact on Ryan and his future.
To all the teachers and staff who have helped gently close the elementary school door and enabled Ryan to open the next one, thank you. And to you Mrs. M, a special shout out. Thank you for stepping outside the box when others would have clung to the lid. Thank you for educating yourself to better educate my son and children like him. Thank you for advocating and doing what is right, not what is easy. Thank you for not getting so caught up in statewide testing and keeping in mind what really matters to the future of your students. Thank you for going "outside your scope of duties" and believing in my son and more importantly, for doing what you believed in your heart was right. Then, now and always....thank you. With every step forward that Ryan takes, every accomplishment he attains, every accolade he earns and every goal he achieves from here on out, please know that you have played a major role in his success and the path he journeys on. Ryan may not always be aware of the impact you have had, but I know. I recognized it then. I still do. And I always will. As he goes through this world, I promise to frequently remind him of the "elementary" challenges he once faced and your priceless role in guiding him through, just as I frequently remind him of how large his head was and how much it hurt pushing him into this world!
To all those teachers that Ryan has loved (Mrs. B, Mrs. F, Mrs. M, Mrs. H, Mr. R, Mr. S, Mr. D, Mrs. A) then quickly forgets the next year, because, well, you served your purpose and he has moved on....please know that several tears have been shed at the thought of walking out those elementary school doors today. Certainly some tears are a direct result of his fear of change and his love of routine, but rest assured that many tears have dampened his pillow at the thought of leaving a place where he has felt loved, safe and accepted....regardless of his differences. To quote my favorite bear:
"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."
-A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh
Goodbye old friends. Today it is the bitterness of the orange peel that Ryan and I taste, but for all of our tomorrows, it will be the sweetness of the juice on our lips and the sticky sugariness on Ryan's fingers as he turns the handle on the next door and the next door and the one after that, with a more confident bounce in his step, and a pride in his heart thanks to all who believed, advocated and taught, "different, not less". "Lucky", indeed....silly old bear.
Ok, fine, it's a lemon, an orange would have been to good to be true.
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