Tick tock, tick tock....there are only a mere 24 hours until the school year ends, 24 hours until this mom can breath a sigh of relief that Ryan not only survived his first year of middle school, but, that he kicked butt and took names. Actually, he really didn't "take names" because names are not his strong suit, and where in the world would he "take" a name anyway? And even though I think Ryan "kicked butt" he would tell you he most certainly did not kick butt because that would be rude, violent, against the rules and a lie. So, I guess I will just say that with only hours left of 6th grade, Ryan's school year was AWEsome! Hooray!
There will be plenty of "I told you so's", from the likes of my husband, Ryan's therapists, my friends, his brother, and his former teachers. People ready to gloat that all my fingernail chewing, all my sleepless nights, all my How to Survive Middle School with an ASD Survival Guides that I created, were all for not. Gloat away folks, because no one could be happier about being wrong than me. I just wish all these gloaters would share their crystal balls with me and spare me all the anxiety that will surely roll around in August once again.
There will be plenty of "I told you so's", from the likes of my husband, Ryan's therapists, my friends, his brother, and his former teachers. People ready to gloat that all my fingernail chewing, all my sleepless nights, all my How to Survive Middle School with an ASD Survival Guides that I created, were all for not. Gloat away folks, because no one could be happier about being wrong than me. I just wish all these gloaters would share their crystal balls with me and spare me all the anxiety that will surely roll around in August once again.
When Ryan reluctantly walked out the doors of elementary school last year at this time, anxious for what was yet to come and heartbroken for what was left behind, my biggest worry wasn't school yard bullies, getting him up at 6:15AM or the shape of the school pizza (although those were all very genuine and legit concerns), what kept me up at night on the "what if" roller coaster that is my brain, was the concern of what if Ryan, my one man, man, can't survive being placed on a middle school team. I don't meant the basketball team, the volleyball team or the debate team, I mean an academic team that consisted of five teachers for core subjects and ten other teachers for various specials. Ryan was use to one or two teachers that he had to get to know and who had to get to know him. I was AWEnestly convinced that rather than be placed on the 6R Academic Team, Ryan would have chosen to take his chances of a spike to the face on the middle school volleyball team. The pain of a volleyball spike would diminish much quicker than enduring a different teacher for nine periods each day.
I know it's probably been a while since you have done middle school math (unless of course you have a middle schooler and unlike me, you can actually help your kids with math past the second grade), so I am going toss out two equations for you. Here goes:
9 class periods+9 teachers+9 varying teaching styles+9 sets of rules=1 anxious boy
1 anxious boy=1 worried, fretting, nutsy mom
I always hated math.
I know it's probably been a while since you have done middle school math (unless of course you have a middle schooler and unlike me, you can actually help your kids with math past the second grade), so I am going toss out two equations for you. Here goes:
9 class periods+9 teachers+9 varying teaching styles+9 sets of rules=1 anxious boy
1 anxious boy=1 worried, fretting, nutsy mom
I always hated math.
Ryan isn't much of a "team" kind of guy. Being part of a team, means getting to know your teammates, understanding everyone's role on the team, and being able to interpret facial expressions, body language, and social cues that often go hand in hand with being part of a team. Autism makes all those things hard for Ryan, not impossible, but, difficult enough that he would rather stick with his one man show. Ryan is a solo sport kind of guy, he prefers having to only look out for himself and being responsible for "I" not "we". The saying goes, "There is no i in team", but, Ryan most assuredly would beg to differ (actually he probably wouldn't since there literally is no letter "i" in the word team, but, work with me here folks, it's been a long school year).
Throughout the school year, I never once heard Ryan say "we" or "team", but, he frequently and proudly used the word "I". "I made the honor roll!"...."I got a 100% on my test!"...."I handled it on my own."...."I passed."...."I understand the material perfectly". "I, I, I", not "we, we, we" and Ryan's right, he did do all those things, but, just like a pitcher may run off the mound screaming, "I threw a no hitter!", without his team's flawless defense, without his team's support, a no hitter would have been impossible. A quarterback who is patting himself on the back for having such a successful season may say, "I hold the NFL record for most completed passes." which may be true, however, without his defensive line protecting him and he receivers catching the ball, that quarterback would not have thrown a single completion.
For Ryan, whose fight or flight is so heightened, taking care of "I" makes recognizing the importance of "we" challenging. Autism makes the notion of even an academic team, seem full of unforeseen, unexpected, danger and peril. An academic team, may seem almost as dangerous as a rope team climbing Mt. Everest. The English teacher may use a stopper knot to keep her team together and safe, while the Science teacher may prefer to use prusiks on the rope, a completely different way of reaching their goal safely. These different strategies all work, but, for a child who prefers "same" getting to know all those differences and understanding them, is like free climbing Mt. Everest without a Sherpa.
A mountain climber who screams from the top of the Earth, "I climbed Mt. Everest", would have never made it to the summit without being tethered to a team, a team whose soul job is to keep each member safe, while they reach the summit. Being part of a climbing team, the team members understand the whole "you go, I go" motto, even though none of them want "to go". They understand that being tied to that team helps each climber, regardless of the differences in ability and stamina, reach their goal. Often the distance of the rope is shortened for the climber who occasionally stumbles and struggles to ascend, the climber who may struggle to see the crevasse buried beneath the snow. The members of a good rope team, know when and how to make the adjustments and keep a struggling climber close, ready to self-arrest and do whatever it takes to make each member of the team reach the summit safely...even the climber who struggles. No mountain climber can ever say "I" without the "we" of his rope team that guided him through hazardous and unpredictable terrain.
The academic team that Ryan was fortunate enough to tether himself to for his first year of middle school, kept him close and kept him safe as he found his way over the hills and peaks of the strange terrain of metaphors and figurative language, as he eased himself over algebraic methods, and happily explored the elements of the Earth's crust, all while making new discoveries on the people, climate, and culture of French Guiana. This amazing team, knew when Ryan felt safe enough, when he became more confident in his abilities and they extended the distance between themselves and him on the rope. A distance great enough to make him forget the "we" in team and happily declare, "'I' made it to the top!".
With only hours left until 6th grade comes to an end, I promise you Ryan will descend the bus steps on that last day, with tears in his eyes since ending something familiar and beginning something new is both difficult and heartbreaking for my sensitive son. With all his successes, all his accomplishments, Ryan could scream from the rooftops,"I did it, I made the Honor Roll all four marking periods and I am a seventh grader!", but, he won't because bragging isn't his thing and because climbing on the roof, untethered is as dangerous as free climbing Mt. Everest. This declaration may not be shouted from the rooftops, and chances are high that he won't even utter a single word about it, but, as his forever grateful, lifetime Sherpa, no one knows Ryan better than me, and I promise you 6R Team, he feels it, he knows it, and he believes it, all because he was tied tightly to an amazing team.
Thank you 6R Team, for pulling my son, for pushing him, for securing him, for reaching him, for teaching him, and for believing, "different, not less". Mostly, this worried, tired, about to open a bottle of wine mom, thanks this team of AWEsome teachers for not allowing my son to fall through a crack or a crevasse by providing him with just the right amount of rope that gave him the strength and the confidence, to reach the top and to proudly find the "i" in team.
Thank you 6R Team, for pulling my son, for pushing him, for securing him, for reaching him, for teaching him, and for believing, "different, not less". Mostly, this worried, tired, about to open a bottle of wine mom, thanks this team of AWEsome teachers for not allowing my son to fall through a crack or a crevasse by providing him with just the right amount of rope that gave him the strength and the confidence, to reach the top and to proudly find the "i" in team.
"I cannot emphasize enough the importance of a good teacher."
-Temple Grandin
Where Ryan spent hours putting the "i" in team.
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