Thursday, March 26, 2015

They Think My Son Is Dangerous...Really?

I can't even.  I suddenly understand what that means.  Because, after going through our first (and, hopefully, last) discipline committee meeting....I can't even.  But, I will, because this would be a pretty pointless blog post, otherwise.  ;)

The day did not go as I expected.  I expected it to be stressful.  I expected to look down at my sweater and realize that I had dog hair on it.  I expected to have trouble walking in my boots.  But, other than that, nothing else went like I thought it would. 

Before going, we had a talk with William.  We explained that the counselor had some theories and that she recognized possible signs of high functioning Autism in him.  Although, it's not remotely official, we told him that we were going to bring it up.  We were feeling supremely confident that this information was going to tip the scales.  We explained that we wanted to home school him if they assigned him to an alternative school.  And, since he had previously stated that he definitely wanted to go back to his middle school if he was allowed, we said that he could, but we'd be watching closely.  And, at the first sign of trouble, we might pull him out.  We then asked him how he felt about everything and he said that he wanted to home school. regardless.     

We headed out, feeling nervous but optimistic.  I was sure that they would let him go back to middle school and that we would then have the ability to access the situation and go from there.  I was sure, but I was wrong.

So, we drove to the official bad part of town for our meeting at the school.  Well, where we thought the meeting was anyway.  We had been given the wrong location.  But, it didn't matter much.  We didn't miss anything because William's current vice principal also had the wrong location.  But, I include it here so I can comment that it was in a bad area....

So, we got there and we waited.  I'll skip the part where I sat there, scrolling through my facebook newsfeed, trying to pretend that this was not a big deal.  Sorry, that was some ineffective skipping.  Anyway, we got called in.  The room and the table were surprisingly big.  I looked around the table at about a dozen committee members and felt like I was in the interview from hell.  Because I just can't seem to keep my mouth shut, I joked, "Well, this is intimidating!" 

Everyone introduced themselves.  I don't remember a single name and, honestly, I only remember a few of the faces.  The vice principal gave her spiel.  They asked pointless questions, like "what period is P.E." and "When you got to school, did you realize that you made a mistake and consider turning it in before you were caught?"   (Yes, because the average 12 year old will fess up and guarantee punishment..)

I was literally wringing my hands.  Which is weird because I don't recall a time in my life when I had ever wrung my hands before.  But, it was so hard to keep my mouth shut and just listen to how they were misrepresenting him.   

I did jump in at one point.  I'm not entirely sure if it was allowed, but they were talking about William's ADHD and how it had been determined that it had not played a part in his choice.  At the time, we agreed, but since he started with a counselor, of course, that had changed.  So, we told them that she has picked up on possible signs for high functioning Autism.  Nothing is official, but we told them that we thought it was important to let them know because, clearly, it was relevant.  I was sure that they wouldn't take a chance on assigning a child to an alternative school with an unclear knowledge of his mental state.  I felt like if something happened, it was a law suit waiting to happen.  I guess that I thought wrong.  They seemed remarkably un-phased by this revelation and continued with the meeting.

So, we went back to waiting.  Oh, and more hand wringing! ;) 

Finally, we got to speak.  We explained that he had been bullied for years.  We explained that he had gotten to a point that he was fighting back.  We acknowledged that he made a bad choice and assured them that he had been advised of that...a lot.  We acknowledged his challenges with telling the truth.  We explained his history.  We assured them that counseling would continue and that nothing was more important to us than making sure that he was "ok,"  but that he didn't belong at an alternative school.  We were on fire!  We were this amazing tag team of high pitched mom and low pitched all-business dad!  Now, we're going to clear this up!  They will get it now! 

They just looked at us. 

I don't recall seeing any emotions on their bureaucratic faces.

It continued. 

They asked William some more questions.  As they asked, he started to shut down and give them the expression that I have seen a million times.  The expression of nothing.  I call it - looking at me like I'm speaking French.  Because it's like he doesn't understand what I'm saying, even though, I'm usually making very basic statements.  But, now I get it.  He's overwhelmed. 

He stopped answering.  We explained that he was getting overwhelmed.  He asked them to repeat the question.  I encouraged him to take a breath, relax, and then answer.  But, instead, he started to cry.  That's when Brian (I'm so glad that he was there) went to him and held him while he cried.

I looked at my son, with his face buried in his Daddy's chest as he cried.  And, I was never more sure that he isn't a juvenile delinquent in training. 

Apparently, they were not so sure. 

They said things like "bullied children are more likely to become violent" and "we have to worry about the safety of the other students."

And, as he cried, they went around the table and unanimously agreed that he should be sent to the alternative school.  And, for some reason, they all said the words, "I'm ok with it."  (That keeps replaying in my mind.)  The only question was whether 45 days was long enough. You see, usually they do 180 days, but since the school year is almost over, they settled for 45.  One of the committee members hesitated by saying, "I hesitate, but I think it's just the mom in me....yes, I'm ok with it." 

We were stunned.  We really thought that there would be more a discussion.  And, again, I was glad that Brian was there because I was falling apart.  As they went around the table agreeing with each other and then discussing the details, I kept repeating "no."  Then I looked at Brian, "Can I say no?" 

Then I brought up the Autism (or maybe Autism) again and continued with my dramatic tirade, "So, knowing he might have something else going on, you're just going to throw him in there and hope he's ok??"  

That's when I started to cry.  And, that's when Brian really had his hands full, literally.  He held a crying kid in his arms on one side and held a borderline hysterical wife's hand on his other as they all talked about getting William set up with ESE classes if he got the official diagnosis, etc, etc.  I wasn't listening.  I knew that we intended to home school if this happened, but, I honestly didn't think it would happen this way. 

I asked Brian, "Why are we still here?  He's not going there."

So, Brian told them that we were considering the homeschooling route.  They countered with the fact that he could never come back to public school without first doing his time at the alternative school.  We were basically like, yeah, whatever.  We were advised that we could appeal the decision, but he had to be in attendance there first.  Again, yeah, whatever.

Then, they were passing paperwork around and I had to have Brian sign everything because I literally couldn't see it through my tears.  Then the principal of the alternative school was by my side with more paperwork and explaining that it's not as bad as I thought.  She invited me for a tour and quite frankly, I believed that she meant what she said.  I believed that she felt for me.  But, that didn't mean that he belonged there.

I was so overwhelmed (there's that word again.).  I started to wonder if we were over-reacting.  But, my mind kept going to the messages and comments from the wonderful people who read my blog and about the conversations that we've had with friends, family, and teachers.  And, how we kept hearing over and over that William doesn't belong at an alternative school.  Some of these people were familiar with this particular school, some were familiar with other alternate schools, and some were just familiar with the concept.  But, they all felt that he shouldn't be sent there.   

The principal continued talking.  She said that we could come take a tour in the morning and assured me that I'd feel better, after.  I was pondering just playing along and saying never mind later because I wasn't sure how to escape.  But, I looked at Brian and he said, as gently as he could muster, "I wouldn't expect us."

And, that was it.  It was done.  We started gathering our stuff.  I took the principal's card per her request (in case I changed my mind) and we stood up.

And, because I just feel compelled to make jokes in stressful situations, I referenced the fact that it was a good thing that that Brian was there, "I was planning to leave way more dramatically!"  haha! 

Despite the fact that I'm hilarious, haha, as you can imagine, I was rewarded with blank expressions. ;)

We said our goodbyes or something like that.  I thanked the principal of the alternative school for her kindness (she didn't get a vote on whether or not he went there).  And, we were out.  Brian matter-of-factly marched up the stairs with William as I took the slower (and, hopefully, just as matter-of-factly) path up the ramp.  I  had no interest in tripping up stairs in my stylish yet not easy to walk in boots...

So, there you have it.  We're home schooling our son.  I have named our school "Parker Academy" and intend to enrich his learning by educating him on the history of Jedi's and, of course, Stan Lee's autobiography (if he's written one yet) will be required reading! ;)

But, honestly, we think this will be good for him.  And, I'm really excited about it.  He will be surrounded by people who love him and he can focus on learning and developing as a person.

Those people had already made up their mind about William.  They only let us come and speak because they had to.  Our fancy words and grown up clothes had no impact.  They actually said that they have to worry about the safety of the other students?  You do that.  We're going to worry about taking care of our child.  I guess that I was wrong when I thought that you were going to worry about that, too.  In the words of Brian, before we stood up to leave, "We'll take it from here."

Monday, March 23, 2015

My Son Thinks He's Alone

I took William to counseling on Friday.  He had been silly and chatty through most of the day, but got quiet as it got close to our appointment time.  So, I know that he must've been nervous.  As we sat there waiting, he put his head on my lap until she called him back.

As I waited, I learned a lot about what the stars wore to the golden globes and decided that Jennifer Anniston must be lots of fun to party with.  (You gotta love waiting room magazines.)  I also obsessed about what William was saying to the counselor about me.  We had explained to him that he could say what he needed to say and how she wouldn't run back and tell us, unless it was a safety issue.  And, I think it's very important that he feels safe talking to her.  But, all I wanted to do was run back there, throw open the door, and yell - "That's not true!  Whatever he said, that's not true!"  But, I didn't. ;)

When he was done, she called me back and confused me by telling me things that he had said.  Some things frustrated me like how he told her that we said that he was going to kill someone.  Why would they think that, he asked her.  Of course, what Brian had said was he could have accidentally killed someone if things got out of hand.  His point was to explain to William how potentially dangerous his choice was.  It frustrated me because Brian and I had both clarified that with him already, but I guess it isn't sinking in.

Some things were hard to hear like when she told me that she asked him how he felt about his biological mother.  She probably only paused for a moment when she said that, but for me, it felt like an hour passed as I waited to hear what he said about her.  Finally, she continued and explained that he took off his glasses, started to cry, and said that he didn't want to talk about it.  She let it drop and told him that he could if he ever wanted to.  She told me that there was a lot of pain there.  It hurt my heart, but it definitely makes sense.  Because, really, how could there not be...

Some things I needed to hear like when she was telling me that he said he eats lunch alone, how the kids pick on him, etc.  This wasn't new information, of course.  But, then she said that he feels alone.  I thought to myself, how can that be?  We're taking him to counseling, considering homeschooling, and worrying about him non-stop.  All I want is for him to be happy and "ok."  Then, it dawned on me.  I'm talking to Brian about it.  I'm talking to my family and friends about it.  I'm blogging about it.  Everyone knows how concerned I am.   But, I wasn't telling him. Why wasn't I telling him?  Then, I knew that I had to so just that.  He needed to know that he wasn't alone.  (Hey! who is getting the counseling here??)

So, we left.  We walked to the van in near silence.  I managed a "How do you feel?" and he said "Good."  We went to my parents (who were watching Lizzie and Antwan) and then headed to Wendy's for a comfort fast food dinner.  Lizzie and Antwan rode with Grandma and Grandpa so William and I were alone in the van.  It was so quiet.  I knew that I needed to say something, I knew that it would make things better, but I was over thinking it (I do that) and didn't know how to start.

Finally, when we were pulling in to Wendy's, I started to talk.

"I need you to know that you are not alone.  Yes, Daddy and I are upset.  Yes, you made a bad choice.  But, we are on your side.  I really need you to know that you are not alone."  Pause  "Ok?"

He said "ok."

And, you know what, it did make things better.  I think that he did feel less alone.

And, as we walked into Wendy's, he said, "One thing that I didn't like about counseling, when she asked me about my birth mother, she kept calling her my real mom.  Finally, I got so upset that I started to cry."

Wow, she played that one wrong. 

I fought the urge to go emotional Emily and instead calmly agreed that she should have used the correct terminology.  I told him that I would politely mention it to her.  And, I will.  Because she really should know better.  But, for once, I went a different way in my head.  Instead of getting hung up on how insulting using those terms are, I realized something else.  He was upset that she was referring to someone else as his real mom.  Because for him, that's me.  Now I know that the counselor was right about there being pain there.  And, I know that he is going to want to know more about her one day.  But, I also know that I'm his mom and he feels that.  With all the other things that he's confused about, he's not confused about that. 

And, you know what, that made me feel less alone, too.

He stayed close to my side through out dinner and seemed more at peace than I had seen him in awhile.  Although, admittedly, it's hard to tell with him.  And, as confused as I am and as worried as I am about the future,  I finally felt in my heart that we're gonna be ok.  Because, you know all you need is love, etc, etc.   We've got that.

P.S.  Thank you for your supportive comments and messages (and for reading!).  It means a lot to me and really helped me gain some perspective on our situation.   That, also, made me feel less alone. :)