MIDDLE SCHOOL ORIENTATION -- THEN AND NOW

Dear Persons,

We remember our most terrifying life experiences all too well, right? 

My first Middle School Orientation as a parent was one such moment for me. 

My son, “G,” is now 16. He is a super smart, autistic, kindhearted 10th grader. 

My daughter, “Z,” is 12. She is allistic, very, very clever, and has some residual attachment-disordered behavioral traits that actually serve her well in her brutal 6th grade milieu. 

Four years ago, I attended G’s Middle School orientation. This spring, I attended Z’s. The differences between the two experiences were remarkable: 

Then: Abject terror for my child.

Now: Mild concern for other kids since, how shall I say this, Z and her friends are “still developing this skill” of the skill of empathy. 

Then: Both children sitting with me. I'm so tense that my little guy — not the most observant kid on earth — is sensing my alarm, and my little gal — showing her rare and dear soft side — is noticing the tears streaming down my face; trying to keep it together for them and for my own dignity, such as it was. 

Now: Sitting solo. G at another event. Z up on the balcony with her girl posse, all small but mighty. Scornful expressions masking…nervousness? Nah. 

Then: Tears.

Now: Yawns. Have already seen this presentation. Plus, not worried. 

Then: Curiosity tending toward fretting: Will these new teachers really see my child? Will he succeed here on his own terms? Will my child be bullied during this awkward time of life? Will G’s learning differences be scaffolded in such a way that his intelligence can shine? 

Now: Curiosity, pure and simple: What will those teachers I was in close contact with for G think when they meet Z? Will my child be actively kind to “different” kids like her brother? Will Z make an effort to do better if getting decent grades is easy for her? Will her developmentally appropriate “attitude” be toned down in class? In the lunchroom?

Then: All-out trepidation about the changes, from multiple classrooms to teacher-specific homework assignments.

Now: Relief, knowing I won’t have to intervene or oversee Z constantly—vis-à-vis homework or anything else. 

Then: Organizing Team Friendly Face.

Now: Admonishing (“Please try to look a bit less haughty — there are students here who feel intimidated and scared”).

Then: Praying.

Now: Sighing. 

My special “expertise” has always been around having two very different kids, but these four-years-apart experiences encapsulated that reality for me in the most striking way. It’s nice to see in this latest iteration that from time to time I am able to avoid having a total panic attack when a total panic attack is not warranted (I’ve wondered about that). 

Then: Despite all that, my kids are alright. More than alright! 

Now: Ditto!

Then and now, I am grateful for these two precious beings and for the ways we all persist in growing and trying, together. 

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

 Welcome to Voices of Special Needs Blog Hop -- a monthly gathering of posts from special needs bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Jenny Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about having a special needs kiddo -- from Sensory Processing Disorder to ADHD, from Autism to Dyslexia! Want to join in on next month's Voices of Special Needs Hop? Click here!

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TEAM FRIENDLY FACE AT HIGH SCHOOL ORIENTATION

Dear Persons,

Team Friendly Face (links: http://fullspectrummama.blogspot.com/2014/05/team-friendly-face.html and http://fullspectrummama.blogspot.com/2014/06/team-friendly-face-update.html), convened at the beginning of Middle School, was represented the other night by a few friendly faces as I walked apprehensively into the orientation for parents of incoming ninth graders.

The auditorium was significantly less full than I would have expected, given the size of the incoming class of first year high school students. To this casual observer, it emerged that there were basically two types of parents who chose to attend this event. Both sets looked keyed-up, nervous. But one set looked excited, too, whereas the others, my Friendly Face peeps, looked TERRIFIED. We know how hard transitions can be for our kids, both for individual reasons, such as anxiety around new things, executive function challenges, and so on, and for larger-scale reasons, such as the inevitable jostling and alienation that come with new social situations and groups. (Guess who’s usually targeted in high stress situations? People who are different? Yup.)

The future  AP parents, the ones who indeed legitimately signed the Honors English agreement that was in the million-page high school transition packet – the Honors English permission form that I’d signed because, why not? Hey, my kid is GIFTED, and...um...honorable – kept asking questions about things like “prerequisites for calculus.” The rest of us cringed, kept quiet. Sure, the school administration and teachers seemed welcoming and nice, but we all knew our kids might need a slightly different – probably more extensive - set of guidelines.

After the presentation, I felt shellshocked. Team Friendly Face member J came over to me, crying. I felt a migraine descending. We tried to prop each other up. Team Friendly Face members K and C reminded themselves and us that our future ninth graders have such a gift for finding the good in every situation. That our fears don’t always manifest – and often go blissfully unshared by our children...

Then my shy, sometimes uncertain, Team Friendly Face friend J walked up to the Special Education representative and, before my eyes, turned into an articulate, assertive Warrior. While I stood mutely by, gazing through narrowed eyes, trying not to sway or vomit (migraines are fun like that), she introduced herself (and me), asked some really smart, important questions, and just basically advocated her butt off for her son. I was so proud of her! And a bit ashamed that I’d just written a whole post on advocacy...But then sometimes we need to lean on others when it gets too much. I was super grateful for those Friendly Faces at this event! I know I will be getting plenty of chances to advocate in the next few months and, thanks to J, some of my questions have already been answered.

   

It was also a comfort to know I could jot down some reflections on this ordeal in my 300-page and growing Full Spectrum Mama draft file. I publish only a fraction of my writing, but somehow the luxury of writing things down, along with the opportunity to process this writing provides, and then – when appropriate, when I have the time to polish the writing, etc. -  I am grateful to be able to have a part in the wonderful blogosphere phenomenon of letting others know they are not alone.

That being said, I’ve always seen THE COMPLAINT DEPARTMENT as a place where ANYONE can share their experiences. I will be publishing a plethora of COMPLAINTS in the upcoming yearly post. Please email me your tisk-tisks, your triumphs, trials, tribulations, tales of woe and so forth at jineffable@gmail.com. 

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama