Regular Ed

It’s the end of Wylie’s 2nd grade year. I’m at his annual Individualized Educational Program meeting (IEP--a subject which deserves its own book). He has been evaluated by all of the teachers involved in his care this year and by a school psychologist. Around the table, his teacher, the principal, the speech pathologist…everyone involved on Wylie’s team were all unanimous in their view that Wylie was ready to transition to a regular classroom with resource support. (The arch angel Laurel O’Brien referenced earlier had recommended “main-streaming” Wylie for reading, science, math, and art. Even though Wylie struggled a bit, Laurel was confident that Wylie would thrive best if he were challenged. And, more important to her was the social and behavioral modeling he would be exposed to with regular kids). Heads are nodding in agreement. My chest is tightening. I take a deep breath. It seems like I should say something. The silence is deafening.

“Who would be his teacher?”

That’s all I can think of to say. I mean, I have had angels from on high teaching my son and he has done marvelously well. I realize he has been, in a sense, an able fish in a less-able pond. But, does it really have to be the case that in order for us to know how well he can swim, we’ve got to throw him to the sharks? I want to believe what this team is saying. I want to believe, in particular, the findings of the psychologist, Mr. Smith, that Wylie is a bright boy capable of much more than he has demonstrated. At the same time, I have for weeks been noticing that just when I think to myself, “Wylie is really very normal and I tend to exaggerate his eccentricities”—he proves me wrong! Do I really want to place him in an environment that will only serve to underscore his uniqueness? Where regular kids will be? Regular kids who have not been around “special” kids and may naturally think my son is…strange or a “weirdo” as he has sometimes been called?

“Mrs. Kryzmarczik. She has a very sweet class”.

I had recently heard of Mrs. Kryzmarczik from another teacher-friend of mine. For whatever reason, hearing her name again assured me this was going to be o.k. We moved him. This IEP took place in March. In between state testing, spring break, and Memorial Day, Wylie really didn’t have much of a chance to acclimate or learn. But, Joyce Kryzmarczik was warm and welcoming and the children were very sweet. She safely walked Wylie to the banks of the regular education stream. However, Wylie basically got to stick his toe in the water. He wouldn’t dive in fully until 3rd grade.

Ready, set, dive!

The water was deeper than we thought. After holding our breath for what seemed like an eternity, we came up for air and landed in Mrs. Smith’s class. Patti Smith. Yes, that would be Patti Smith married to Mr. Smith…the very same psychologist who evaluated Wylie and thought highly of his potential. It was our extreme good fortune to have Wylie placed with her for she understood him almost immediately. She was kind, intuitive, patient and committed to helping him swim with the school of fish she led. And, best of all, she appreciated Wylie’s sense of humor. With longsuffering she endured his ramblings on his current topic of interest (CTI)! Not only that, but Patti’s style of teaching embraced the whole child; what I mean by this is she believed all of the experiences of a 3rd grader could teach them something. In her view, our family vacations were just as much a part of the fabric of Wylie’s learning as her assignment. My perception of her approach to learning was that it was relaxed; this is not to imply anything sub-standard--far from it. Instead, Mrs. Smith had the rare gift of making multiplication facts, spelling, history, and writing as easy and appealing as…well, 1-2-3! In short, she was the perfect person for this part of Wylie’s adventure--the perfect swim coach. Even when the water was cold and deep and it seemed like Wylie would more likely sink than stay afloat, I trusted her completely. And, trust is so important when learning to swim, don’t you agree?

Regular Ed

It’s the end of Wylie’s 2nd grade year. I’m at his annual Individualized Educational Program meeting (IEP--a subject which deserves its own book). He has been evaluated by all of the teachers involved in his care this year and by a school psychologist. Around the table, his teacher, the principal, the speech pathologist…everyone involved on Wylie’s team were all unanimous in their view that Wylie was ready to transition to a regular classroom with resource support. (The arch angel Laurel O’Brien referenced earlier had recommended “main-streaming” Wylie for reading, science, math, and art. Even though Wylie struggled a bit, Laurel was confident that Wylie would thrive best if he were challenged. And, more important to her was the social and behavioral modeling he would be exposed to with regular kids). Heads are nodding in agreement. My chest is tightening. I take a deep breath. It seems like I should say something. The silence is deafening.

“Who would be his teacher?”

That’s all I can think of to say. I mean, I have had angels from on high teaching my son and he has done marvelously well. I realize he has been, in a sense, an able fish in a less-able pond. But, does it really have to be the case that in order for us to know how well he can swim, we’ve got to throw him to the sharks? I want to believe what this team is saying. I want to believe, in particular, the findings of the psychologist, Mr. Smith, that Wylie is a bright boy capable of much more than he has demonstrated. At the same time, I have for weeks been noticing that just when I think to myself, “Wylie is really very normal and I tend to exaggerate his eccentricities”—he proves me wrong! Do I really want to place him in an environment that will only serve to underscore his uniqueness? Where regular kids will be? Regular kids who have not been around “special” kids and may naturally think my son is…strange or a “weirdo” as he has sometimes been called?

“Mrs. Kryzmarczik. She has a very sweet class”.

I had recently heard of Mrs. Kryzmarczik from another teacher-friend of mine. For whatever reason, hearing her name again assured me this was going to be o.k. We moved him. This IEP took place in March. In between state testing, spring break, and Memorial Day, Wylie really didn’t have much of a chance to acclimate or learn. But, Joyce Kryzmarczik was warm and welcoming and the children were very sweet. She safely walked Wylie to the banks of the regular education stream. However, Wylie basically got to stick his toe in the water. He wouldn’t dive in fully until 3rd grade.

Ready, set, dive!

The water was deeper than we thought. After holding our breath for what seemed like an eternity, we came up for air and landed in Mrs. Smith’s class. Patti Smith. Yes, that would be Patti Smith married to Mr. Smith…the very same psychologist who evaluated Wylie and thought highly of his potential. It was our extreme good fortune to have Wylie placed with her for she understood him almost immediately. She was kind, intuitive, patient and committed to helping him swim with the school of fish she led. And, best of all, she appreciated Wylie’s sense of humor. With longsuffering she endured his ramblings on his current topic of interest (CTI)! Not only that, but Patti’s style of teaching embraced the whole child; what I mean by this is she believed all of the experiences of a 3rd grader could teach them something. In her view, our family vacations were just as much a part of the fabric of Wylie’s learning as her assignment. My perception of her approach to learning was that it was relaxed; this is not to imply anything sub-standard--far from it. Instead, Mrs. Smith had the rare gift of making multiplication facts, spelling, history, and writing as easy and appealing as…well, 1-2-3! In short, she was the perfect person for this part of Wylie’s adventure--the perfect swim coach. Even when the water was cold and deep and it seemed like Wylie would more likely sink than stay afloat, I trusted her completely. And, trust is so important when learning to swim, don’t you agree?

Mrs. O'Brien and Mrs. Nemire

Wylie’s teachers have all been angels. Every single one of them. If the heavenly host were comprised of teachers, those most lovely of wing, most honored and battle-worn must certainly be Special Day Class (SDC) educators and their aides. And of the heavenly host, Mrs. O’Brien is then arch angel Michael to Mrs. Nemire’s Gabriel.

Laurel O’Brien teaches 1st and 2nd grade SDC at Calimesa Elementary School. The districts in our area took over SDC education from the counties after Wylie completed kindergarten. This was no small affair in the life of my child. Wylie had adapted to the county class, transportation on the special bus and the routines, environment and campus of the county school program. I remember myself being very anxious about the transition from the county program to the new campus, new routines, new school, new teachers…of course, Wylie would be anxious as well. For others who have been through this process with a special child, when you begin anything new it’s almost like you hold your breath until the routine is established…then you can exhale. Laurel’s quiet calm demeanor and wonderful authentic spirit assuaged any anxiety. Wylie instantly warmed to her and Robin (Nemire). It was such a blessing to place Wylie in their care each day.

This class experience was the first departure for Wylie from intensive speech and language emphasis. To be sure, Wylie still received therapy from a gifted woman (thank you Mrs. Ferguson!), but speech and language therapy became one part of Wylie’s instructional week instead of its focus. Indeed, there were fifteen students in the class and fifteen different stories and histories incorporated into the class mix. Some children needed speech, some needed other forms of therapy, some could read and write, some could not! This is where Laurel and Robin really made a difference. They worked brilliantly together as a team creating smaller groups of learners. They were diligent to preserve structure—so important to Asperger kids and other special needs children—and yet, creative in their use of time as well. Wylie began to embrace school and for the first time began to participate in relationships with other students within the learning environment Laurel created.

I, too, started forming relationships with the class. The bus schedule for morning pick-up would have required Wylie to ride for almost an hour to get to the campus which is only fifteen minutes from our home. Because of this, I opted to drive Wylie to school. In those initial days of 1st grade, I walked Wylie to his class and watched him play on the swings until the bell rang. Little did I know that my over-protective nature and Wylie’s strong desire for our routine would open the door to several more friendships with other SDC students and teachers. It was natural for me to greet the other students as they arrived and hung up their back packs. Gradually, I learned names. Eventually, I learned stories and heard about everything from birthday parties to family vacations!

It was also my pleasure to volunteer in the classroom once a week and help with parties. I usually brought my guitar so we could make up silly songs or sing Christmas carols. A couple of the higher need children especially warmed to the music. One boy who refused to open his eyes and didn’t speak at all would turn his face to the sound of the guitar and move his hands and smile while we sang. This wasn’t unnoticed by Laurel and Robin and they loved it when I was able to be there. What I learned from being with these children and getting to know them was that they all had pockets of potential; some of the pockets were smaller than others certainly. But, the beauty of the SDC (and, in particular, this class led as it was by our resident arch angels), is in the way it opens up the pockets. It was as if Laurel and Robin were expert tailors (angelic tailors!) able to find just the right combination of curriculum, patience, method, and love to turn the pockets of potential inside out! To literally bring forth the child’s best and build on that level. As a practical matter, this would never happen in a traditional class room for these kids.

Wylie’s progression during these two years is testimony to the hard work and dedication of these two women. But, there are so many other success stories. To really appreciate them, you have to get beyond standardized testing and federally mandated performance measures. How do you quantify or “grade” watching an autistic child who barely makes sounds one can call speech grow over the course of a year to the point where polite conversation can be exchanged? Or, observing a child who could barely trace capital letters—much less recognize them—write his name correctly? Laurel’s abilities opened up pockets of potential inside human lives that will forever change their futures. Her angelic influence in Wylie’s adventure is essential and foundational to his success story. I have no doubt that Laurel and Robin were the guardian angels of Wylie’s potential while he was in their care. Without them, who knows what pockets might have remained closed off to discovery?

Who is Her Teacher There?

Wylie experienced kindergarten in a special day class taught by Miss Dana. She was another gifted Speech and Language therapist that would make such a difference in Wylie’s life. Educational services for children like Wylie were initially provided by the county in our area; therefore, this particular class had children with various diagnoses ranging from high functioning autism spectrum disorders to Downs Syndrome, to other physically limiting cases. One of the highlights of that year was the class play. It was a classic retelling of “The Three Little Pigs”. Wylie was cast as the Big Bad Wolf.

The costumes were adorable and included color-dyed t-shirts with the name of the character stamped on them (Wylie’s was brown with the letters “w-o-l-f” in black) and little ears glued to headbands. A program was distributed with the featured actors and everyone’s photo and credits. Picture this: a dramatic play starring kids who, for the most part, don’t maintain eye contact nor speak clearly and are given to outburst, tantrums, or emotional come-aparts. As I think of it, that sounds just about right for Hollywood! The props were excellent: card board boxes big enough for the “pigs” to hide in painted to resemble straw, sticks, and bricks. The curtain was two sheets painted with whimsical designs. What a delight this experience was for us and for Wylie. He nailed his performance, “Little Pig, Little Pig, let me in!” and then, “Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff...” never before were the lines uttered with such precision and character. It was a milestone for Wylie and the other children.

One of the other children in this class had struggled with a weakened heart most of her life. Although I don’t know her exact diagnosis, the heart problem had caused her other difficulties and she obviously could not learn in a traditional environment. Her name was Hayleigh. Over Christmas break, Hayleigh was to have an operation (not the first) and the children were aware she might miss a bit of school. Tragically, she would not return. Her body was not strong enough to survive the surgery. Everyone was struck with grief. The teachers thoughtfully sent a letter home so we could prepare our child for Hayliegh’s noticeable absence once they returned to class. I considered the subject carefully before approaching Wylie.

In our family, we believe children go to heaven when they die and have taught our own kids that Jesus loves the little children…just like the song. I decided to be pragmatic when I began the conversation with Wylie.

“Wylie, you know Hayleigh, your friend from school” I said as gently as I could.

“Yeah”.

“She won’t be coming to school anymore” I explained.

Wylie asked “Is she staying home?”

I said “No”.

Wylie asked “Where is she going to school then?”

I said “In heaven.”

Without missing a beat Wylie says

“Oh, who is her teacher there?”

This opened the door for a thoughtful conversation about Hayleigh’s “change of school”. I could tell Wylie was a bit sad she was no longer going to be in his class, however the full realization of heaven and what happens to us when we die was not on his radar…yet. It was (and is) a subject he would come back to in the future. This was one of many examples of Wylie’s literal thinking and speaking.

Though these children live in their private imaginary worlds most of the day, they sometimes refuse to enter yours. This makes irony and joke-telling relatively useless and can lead to situations where typical parent-child roles are reversed. For example, that same holiday season after the “Three Little Pigs”, our neighbors built an elaborate display of Santa and his reindeer in their front yard complete with a stuffed Santa and Mrs. Claus riding shot gun in the sleigh. One morning, pulling out of our drive, I observed Mrs. Claus was missing. I commented on her absence and wondered aloud if she was up at the north pole helping Santa with the toys. Wylie stopped smoking long enough to clue-me-in: “Mom-Mom, they are just plush toys”. After a pause and quick glance in the rearview mirror at McKenna, the car erupted in laughter. We often find ourselves as a family entertained by Wylie’s wit, quips and questions. It is one of the delightful zigzags of the Asperger mind.