Mothers Day at Gator Camp

Saturday, in honor of Mother's Day, I made the trip to see Bashful at camp.  Bashful has been at camp since October.  He lives there six weeks at a time, and then comes home for four days to practice what he is learning in the hopes of transitioning back home and being successful in the areas that caused he and our family stress and angst up until his departure.

Weeks before, camp sent out invitations to each mom (female caregiver) come and join our sons for the annual, Mother Son Banquet.   The staff and the boys were celebrating Moms.  Working at rebuilding relationships.  Assisting them in an area of great struggle for many of the young men at camp.

As I headed out, I thought I knew what to expect.  I assumed that there would be no surprises, no great revelations. This was just one of the events that we committed to when we agreed to have Bashful placed at camp.

What I came away with Saturday was a deeper appreciation for every mom, grandmother, or aunt that has gotten to the place in the life of their boys, where they can't manage any longer. You see, after 12 years of parenting special needs children, sometimes I forget that there are others out there that have similar struggles.  I assume that what I am doing is just for my dwarf, that others rarely have to face what we have faced, and forget many have been forced to respond in a similar manner with the boys they love.

As I sat and looked around the room Saturday as moms were meeting their boys and getting seated, I was overwhelmingly burdened by the number of women in the same boat that  I am in. I wondered about the support that they have, about their broken hearts, and about their healing.  I could see some of them were overwhelmed with joy to spend time with their boys, others were still feeling the sting of years of hurt and anger directed at them.   I wondered what was the catalyst that  made them realize they needed a place for their boys? What made them realize they could not do this any longer? What caused them to make the decision to turn their boys over to strangers. Strangers that act as intercessors,  healers,  teachers, mentors, coaches, doctors, linguists, social directors, monitors, negotiators, big brothers, cooks, chaperons, chauffeurs, outdoor enthusiasts, trailblazers, captains, leaders and Godly examples of what it looks like to be a young man that honors their mother and father.  I know our story, but I wondered how similar it was to the others in the room.

Saturday was all about honoring their mothers.   You could see that some of the boys embraced the task with much enthusiasm.  Other boys like Bashful, struggled even in an environment where all the social ques were teed up for them, and directions had been given in advance, to know and feel comfortable in the role of caring for their momma's.  To start the luncheon, each young man went around the room to introduce their female caregiver (mom, grandmother, aunt) and shared one thing that they appreciated about this woman in their life.

So many of the boys shared how they loved that their mom, stuck with them through their problems, that they loved them even when they were unlovable, that they cared enough to send them to camp, that they were sorry for how badly they treated them with their words and their actions... it really tugged on your heart.   Several of the boys shared poems and stories that they wrote about their moms and grandma's that would make even the coldest heart melt.   Heartfelt words of affirmation about the role of the female caregiver in their lives.   These words, stories and poems allowed the healing to begin, or continue in those relationships that were so battered and bruised.  It was sweet, the sentiments heart felt. The tears of joy in a mother's eye overwhelming.

At camp they work really hard at helping the boys see how important the relationship is between a mother and a son, and how they need to work to repair it, restore it and regrow it.   Does it sometimes stink that my youngest dwarf is away from the kingdom, missing daily life and significant life events in the history of our family for an undetermined amount of time.  It does.  But at the same time, his being away helps us heal, and gives us the opportunity to focus on the lives of the others in the family unit that were bypassed and looked over often in times of poorly timed meltdowns and struggles of said dwarf.  No family is perfect.  All families struggle.  These things in the normal ranges help us grow mature and develop.  When the struggle is all consuming,  too often to be healthy for anyone, and is disruptive to life, changes must be made.

That is how each of the women at the luncheon got to sit in the seats of honor next to their sons, grandsons and nephews.  We each made a hard choice,  to love the unlovable, to seek help for their brokenness and to choose hope for the future.

They closed the luncheon with a group song.  There were not many dry eyes in the house.  Again, as I looked around the room I saw women of all ages, relations, and in various stages of their relationships with their sons, weep.    These boys are so broken, so hurt and so vulnerable.  They lash out at the one (aside from Jesus) that loves them the most.   Camp does a great job of reminding them that aside from Jesus, no one loves them more than their mommas! (female caregivers)

Somebody somewhere was praying last night 
when Jesus came in and I saw the light. 

It must have been Mama. I heard her before as she knelt by her bedside, her tears touched the floor. 

Thank you Mama for praying for me. If you had not prayed, then where would I be ? 
They called you old fashioned but you loved the Lord and your prayer touched the Master as your tears touched the floor. 

She held to the alter and wouldn't give in till she knew all her children had been born again. 
Just an old fashioned Mama but she loved the Lord and your prayer touched the master as your tears touched the floor. 

Thank you mama for praying for me. If you had not prayed then where would I be ? 
They called you old fashioned but you loved the Lord and your prayer touched the Master as your tears touched the floor.

Time stands still for no one... most especially Momma's !

They say a picture is worth a thousand words.  I'm not sure if I can keep this post to a thousand words or one picture!  

In the blink of an eye, time has passed.  While the event photographed here is not senior prom, or graduation or an off to college shot.  Those milestones are FAST approaching.  Faster than I want, faster than I can process most days.

I am sure she will fill her social media with great pictures from the evening of the military ball, however when I was flipping through the photos from last night, this photo stuck out to me! It says so much about the energy, life, passion and excitement that Sleepy brings to all that she does, and I as I ponder the short amount of time I have left with her before she no longer "needs" me, I wonder...

Have I instilled in her heart and soul and mind the ability to be passionate, compassionate and even when it hurts selfless, humble and kind.  Does she know that the Lord who created her in my inner most parts, loves her more than she can comprehend, and that our love of her is only minimal in comparison to that ?

Does she know know the great lengths that we would go to in an effort to keep her heart, mind and person safe and  protected? How every day is a balancing act for us, as we let her spread her wings a little more, and a little more, without suffocating, helicoptering or over parenting as she attempts to become her own unique Lingle in our kingdom and beyond?  

Can she possibly understand the bittersweet feelings that accompany her growth and maturity? How as a parent the feeling of standing in a position of observer  as other people fill spots in her life that she used to rely solely on for myself or the Prince to fill? Confidant, social coordinator, teacher, coach, mentor, chef, chaperon, chauffeur, negotiator, personal shopper, spiritual guide...

Yet in all this mixed bag of emotions I want her to know,  I feel so blessed that this dwarf seems to be tracking in a direction that is completely and absolutely the way life is to naturally progress!  She is gaining experience, growing in maturity and wisdom, and very rapidly approaching the goal of being independent.  I am overwhelmed that the Lord has gifted me with my youngest daughter who is so full of life and joy, that with very few exceptions, makes it very easy to guide, teach, love.  

In the midst of these every day moments, I do not want to miss the opportunity to say how proud we are of her and how much she has grown!    How her focus and determination makes us stand up and cheer. Her radiant smile is contagious.  Her joy for life evident.

As a momma, I do have one small tiny request....

Could we just slow this all down a little?  Maybe?  How about you take me for coffee and we can talk about it?

Where does time go?  You just can't make this stuff up!  

It was a Very Merry Christmas

It has been 12 years since we have had a Christmas celebration (well really any holiday celebration) without incident.  This year December 25, 2015 was the year that we were incident free.  For this I am praising the Lord!

For those of you not understanding what I mean by an incident free holiday, let me explain. In the midst of a time full of wonder and excitement, it has been almost every parent's experience that our small ones are so full of themselves that they have some behavioral problems.  We experience this exponentially, especially at Christmas, as this holiday brings with it  a high level of anxiety, and large dose of unmet expectations, and a pile of outwardly ugly behaviors.  Not because there are many dwarfs, but because many of the dwarfs have special needs.  The unique way that they are wired causes them to ask for nothing that they really want, or to ask for complete and absolutely ridiculously out of this world gifts.   As if by asking on either end of the spectrum, will produce in us the parents this innate ability to mind read and get them what they really wanted but did not ask for, or somehow there really is a magical short fat man in a red suit that will make all their wildest dreams come true.

Top this by deviating from a regular schedule of sleep, wake, eat, school and church activities, in combination with many social requirements that they already struggle with often makes the days leading to Christmas and the day of Christmas less than joy filled.  In years past we have had children who have thrown gifts, cried because they did not want a certain thing, stare blankly at the items they received without sharing any emotion regarding the gift, no matter how perfect, thoughtful, or have been so overwhelmed by a gift the sibling got that they did not that they wrecked the gift opening experience for everyone.  We have administered time outs. We have had to take gifts. Yes, even attempted bribes and bartering skills to regain calm.  Many times one or more of the dwarfs had to be sent out of the room so that gift opening could continue without them.  Once they were able to get themselves back under control, they would then return to the room to finish opening gifts with the other family members or alone, depending on the length and severity of the meltdown.

This year we got through the entire day of Christmas without a single meltdown. (We are not going to discuss the day before, or the days after...at least not in this post.)  As I sit and ponder the wonderful day, I would like to think that it is the Prince and I and our amazing parenting skills that got the dwarfs to this milestone, however I know that realistically, maturity may finally be weighing in on our side.

Could it have been that what helped was that for the first time,  this year, everyone had money of their own with which to gift their siblings and parents (and we did not make participation optional). This year there was an excitement among the dwarfs to share that "perfect" gift that they labored over to select and counted pennies to purchase.  In using their own monies, and laboring over selecting the perfect gift, I would like to hope that they also learned another valuable lesson about how much work and money goes into the Christmas gift exchange and about the excitement leading up to it sharing with someone your efforts.

Maybe it was the huge inflatable obstacle course that our eldest dwarf rented for the day. This allowed anyone that was feeling a bit antsy to run outside, throw down a challenge and race through the course.  Or just spend a few minutes alone, going through the course forward and backwards to blow off some steam.

Perhaps the Prince and I have finally gotten through to the dwarfs regarding what is appropriate to ask for as a gift.   Since we now also have them write their lists, if there are items that are not ever going to be in my budget for them or me (super bowl tickets, a Bugatti) we can begin damage control weeks in advance, hence reducing the disappointment factor when the wrapping paper starts to fly. Additionally, if we look at a list that is just a request for  3 different kinds of chap sticks, and we can sit and discuss what other things they may be interested in for Christmas, hence helping them create a list that is reasonable and obtainable.  

Whatever the reason, we are rejoicing in the kingdom this year about the wonderful day that was had by one and all.  It seems that everyone got at least one surprise item, and this year the Prince and I worked really hard to get that "one" had to have item for each dwarf.  We rested, we ate well, we enjoyed each other's company and that has not happened in the kingdom on a holiday, let alone Christmas day in a very long time...

I suppose we will know in 361 days if we can repeat the day with such success, but in the meantime...

Our 2015 Christmas Miracle and  I am so glad that I did not have to make this one up!

Some Days I Just Want to Bang My Head on the Wall

Some days, really, all I want to do is bang my head on the wall.   Would anyone notice I wonder if I sat in the corner and just moved back and forth in the same monotonous motion, banging my head on the wall?

When dealing with teenagers, I know that each of us has felt as if the bulk of the parenting that we accomplish is nothing new and earth shattering, but just the same repeated phrases and motions, as if we literally are banging our heads against the wall.

Recently, like last night, we had this situation with Grumpy.  Now you see Grumpy for all of his wonderful traits... has recently began a slide into a world based not on reality, but completely on the false lies and stories that he tells on line to his Instagram friends, his snap chat buddies and his texting comrades via his cell phone.   At first the changes are not so noticeable.  We can chalk it up to "typical" (although there is nothing typical about him) teenage boy behaviors.   But as the web he weaves becomes more tangled, it is more and more difficult for him to sustain the lies, which causes extreme obsession with the electronic devise, overt hostility towards having to do anything that does not involve the devise, and an unwillingness to see the strangle hold that the devise and it's apps have on his behaviors and attitudes.  I mean really, a dwarf who has lost a "homie" in a drive by, probably doesn't have to do sweeps at the end of the day, or water the dog.  A dwarf that has been in prison probably is not having to do dish once a week for a family of 8, and certainly a dwarf that sells drugs and makes some "fat stacks", could pay a sibling to handle his light work around the house....

So, after weeks of the slide, and a random phone check that happened because the Prince got mad that he would not get out of bed one morning, and a mom that is not so tech savvy but knows way more than Grumpy wishes she did, here we are, confrontation.

The confrontation, um, I mean conversation,  starts out with the Prince laying some ground rules for Grumpy and his cell phone.  New rule #1, the devise must be docked at night.  In our room.  No exceptions.   New Rule #2, the devise must be docked once Grumpy arrives home from school until he completes all his chores, school work and other assorted tasks that he is privileged to participate in, as a member of this fine kingdom.

Well it seems that this conversation was not received in the manner in which it was intended.  Our intention is and will always be to come along side a socially short sighted, concrete thinker, to provide additional safety for him while providing him and opportunity to build trust and show his maturity,  through use of the tool that he insists on having, a cell phone. To teach him appropriate behaviors, acceptable ways to interact with people, and for explaining the often missed yet very obvious (only to us) innuendos and intentional slams that others message and text to him. Yet, shockingly, Grumpy thinks this an affront to his privacy.  Of which we remind him that as a minor in our home he really has no right to privacy if in that he is causing himself or others harm.   Additionally, because he  bought the phone and pays for the minutes on the phone, he thinks it is INSANE that we have any rights to, or should expect him,  to hand it over for random checks or docking.   Funny that without access to the electric that we pay for, his phone would cease to work.  Just like that it would be a paperweight.

After far more conversation than the situation warranted, (insert me mentally banging my head into the wall as ONCE again we repeat the same things to him)  an amazingly calm Prince agrees that Grumpy should look for an alternative living arrangement.   The rules would be as follows, he can leave freely, we will not call the police and report him as a run-a-way, if we are able to first talk to the parents of the "friend" he would be living with for the next three years. Because if he is leaving, he is leaving for good.  He can become emancipated even if just leaving is not enough for him. All the while Grumpy is running his mouth about all his home boyz that will let him crash with them.    The Prince indicated that Grumpy should call his "homie"now, get his parent on the phone, so we can authorize his departure, and obtain his address so we would send Grumpy in a cab, right then and there to live with him. Wipe our hands of him.  Be done so that he can get on with his life without rules and us with ours.

"Fine!, I'll do it right now!", Grumpy states. Oh, but wait, he can't call because he does not have his number, he can only message him. The Prince encourages him to do so right then, which Grumpy does. Keep in mind this is his "go to guy", his I know I can hang with him, we have discussed it before, ace in the hole, relief from his miserable home life, guy!   The text response is, "Sorry man, we are full here." At which point the Prince takes the phone and starts texting his "go to guy", with the a message that indicates Grumpy needs a place to stay for the next three years.  "Like I need a place to live, not just crash for a night or two."  His "go to guy's" response... Priceless...  "You need a motel."

Even in all this, Grumpy is struggling to see that this person is not a friend, is not anything but a person that he passes by and most likely just tolerates him, is being nice to him, because he feels in some way bad for him in his social awkwardness.  Again, I feel my head banging on the wall as we have had so many many conversations about this acquaintances VS friends situation.  Grumpy will latch on to an acquaintance and call them a friend because to have and maintain friendships takes a host of skills he is not willing to use or work at.  Skills like being real,  being honest. putting others before yourself.  I would guess that the most of the people that he calls friends would be shocked and would have to think hard about who Grumpy is.    This is the sad reality of a dwarf with Reactive Attachment Disorder.   Even sadder is that they desire to live in this alternative reality, where they think that they can control and manipulate situations to suit them.  Not realizing that they are straining real relationships to the brink, they are risking losing all that is real in their lives and that they are turning into a train wreck attempting to juggle the lies and the deception that they spin to so many.  Can you imagine how much energy he has to spend trying to remember which stories he tells to which person.  Was this the person I told I was a high school football star, or the one I told I was not a snitch and I was looking to make some quick cash?

At the end of the day the issue with Grumpy is that he refuses at all costs to fall under authority.  He has convinced himself that there are people in the world that live without rules, or accountability and they can do and say and behave how they want.    Why? Because this lie is easier than the truth; which is,  life is hard.  Life takes effort.  Sometime life is a hard lesson teacher.  In all things we have to fall under authority. The authority of the Lord, as believers.  The authority of the law in our government. The authority of our boss's at our jobs (yes even the crappy ones).  The authority of our spouses or significant others in relationships.  The authority of the communities in which we live.

So yes, last night Grumpy was going to leave home forever,  because his parents want to be able to access his phone, and have the log in information for his accounts.  This was the hill he was willing to die on.   He was willing to leave with $60 in his pocket and a pay as you go cell phone, with only the items that fit in a suitcase, with no job into the big bad world, because he can't stand the thought of falling under authority.  "Grumpy, why did you leave home?  were you abused?  Did they not feed you?  Did you have to sleep on the floor in the garage?" " No, "I left home because my mom follows me on Instagram, and she knows all my passwords to my cell phone and accounts."  And this was a valid, compelling and logical reason to him for leaving home and never returning.

Prayerfully his good night's rest, (without the distraction of his cell phone) with some time to consider the folly of his thoughts, brings a new understanding to his mind regarding the easy road he is currently on.   Only time will tell.  What I do know is that if you need me I will be in the corner...

My Mom Followed Me on Instagram and I was Embarrassed, the Main Reason I left Home at Sixteen:  a memoir of Grumpy ... Really some days I wish I could make this stuff up.

Maybe Three Weeks Is Not Long Enough....

Many of you know that Bashful is currently attending a camp in Punta Gorda, Florida, for boys that are emotionally and behaviorally disturbed.  You also know that this is not anything that we are unaccustomed to, since his older brother went through a similar program in PA.

I am sure that we have not done a very adequate job of updating you all on his departure and his status since he has been gone, so here is a summary of all that has happened with Bashful in the last four weeks.

He has become the reigning fire starter in his group, he is working hard on his goals, he has been on a three day canoe trip with his tribe, he is often helpful around camp, he is learning how to carve, he usually has no troubles getting up in the mornings, and he is working very hard at keeping a clean and neat space in his footlocker and making his bed.  Oh and my heart was happy to see that he had not been eaten alive by the mosquitoes!

 

I am not sure what I was expecting to find upon our arrival to camp.  They say that disappointment is based on unmet expectations.   I was so uncertain about what I would find or see in my dwarf, yet  I in some ways I was hopeful for such "great" things.

We were greeted by a young man that looked, and smelled, and sounded like Bashful.   While his teeth are cleaner than they have been in years, thanks to the hygiene station at camp, and a little intense peer pressure (see photo below of where the magic happens) there was a bit of a standoff posture to him. Oh, he greeted us appropriately.  Hugs all around.   He was excited to hand over a gift that he made for his eldest sister, and was super excited to see the Prince because he thought that I was the only parental attending....but there was just something that rubbed at me.  Something that made me think (and say out loud to the Prince) that three weeks away had done nothing but change his geographical location to me.  My heart was not softer, my attitude was not kinder and my words were a great struggle.  Much about him just, well, sort of annoyed me.  In a deep place.

I know that moms that have children that are a delight to your hearts always, may be struggling to read the words that I am writing, but I think in the span of our visit, even though here in the kingdom, I was doing what needed to be done to get through the day with Bashful, (sometimes the hours or the minutes) I realized just how much his attitude, his behaviors and his brokenness have affected me.  I am hurt, and I am resentful and I am saddened.   I can not place my finger on an exact thing.  I just started to realize how deep and how raw the emotions are that run through me.    Did I expect him to gush all over us, no.  Did I expect that the boys in camp would be excited to meet us and that he would be excited to introduce us to the others, no.  Did I expect that he would have had something profound to say to express his remorse, or to show me he understood his brokenness, or our sacrifice, or the need for him to get this help, maybe? Sort of?  Mostly no.

What I do know is that God is not surprised by Bashful's station in life.  That because of our diligence and because of God's great love for Bashful, He is also not surprised about any of our stations currently in life.  God knows my heart and my hurt.  He has created Bashful, and is working diligently through the chiefs at camp to assist him in his growth and maturity in ways that we could not here in the kingdom.  As much as he loves Bashful, he love me too, and if I allow, he will show me how to work through the hurt of having and loving a broken child.

Here are some ways that you can pray for Bashful.  Pray that he is able to start to "own" things.  Be responsible for his words and his actions (or lack of them). That he would understand that no one is out to sabotage him, but many are championing  to set him up for great success.  That authority is a component of life that is necessary as a child so that you can learn, and grow and be successful in a protected environment.   Pray for the chiefs that live with these boys in the woods six days a week.  Pray for the camp as they continue to grow and offer hope to other parents that find themselves with boys in the same condition as Bashful.   Pray for our family for healing and grace.  Also for the upcoming Thanksgiving break where we have Bashful home for a week.

It was towards the middle of the visit when we were able to take this photo and Bashful actually seemed to be relaxing and able to smile... this is the dwarf that I love and miss... Here's to his healing, and his growth and maturity in the weeks and months and years ahead.

You just can't make this stuff up....

It Never Is Good to Hear In the Middle of the Night... Dad... I Hit Something....

It never is good to hear from your eldest son, in the middle of the night, the words, "Dad, I hit something..."

Oh of course not only was it the middle of the night, but it was also a dark and stormy night this summer when Dopey, arriving home from work in the wee hours of the morning, comes barging into our bedroom, where I might add the Prince and I are soundly sleeping.... and clears his throat.

Dopey, clears his throat, and awakens us, with "Dad, I may have hit something on the way home tonight."  "What?"  responds the groggy Prince.  "You either hit something, or you did not hit something, there is no "might" about it."

Dopey goes on to recount that as he was driving home, at "an appropriate speed" for the weather conditions (pouring rain) on the main road to our house, he thinks he hit something in the road.  I am now fully awake.  "How do you know you hit something?"  He replies that he knows that he hit something because he felt it on the side of the car.   So of course my next response is, " was it an animal or a person?"  "What did you hit?"  "Oh no, not either of those things he replies as he continues to tell us that when he got out on the side of the road, in the pouring down rain, to look at the car and when he did, he could see his tire was flat.

I would venture to say, he did more than hit something... If I were a betting Momma, I would guess he ran off the road in the rain and scraped up against something....  or there was debris on the roadway that he did not see because of the rain and ran in or through that.... Needless to say, flat was an understatement.

Flat in my mind means, it can be repaired.  Like a nail in the tire.  Or a pinprick that slowly leaks. Not this.  This was shredded.

In this situation, Dopey has the joy of learning a few life lessons.  One tires are expensive.  You typically can't just buy one without a second for balance of the car.  At the very least some of the other tires need rotated around to help achieve the maximum ride and wear and tear on the vehicle.

Oh, and he got to learn how to change his tire to put on the spare. He found out from a neighbor how to find out the identifying information off the tire so that he could have the privilege of calling around for tire prices.  Once he secured the best option, he then had the joy of  using his hard earned money to replace said flat tire.

In the midst of all this I think that Dopey is beginning to understand  a few things with  a little more appreciation. One is to pay attention when driving period (this does seem to be a struggle for the boy who has had his license less than a year and has had two altercations thus far), another, is to drive under the speed limit in poor conditions, and to always be grateful for the help of neighbors and friends, and your sister, when you are required to change a tire!

You really can't make this stuff up!

One lone boy sitting in the hallway...

 If I were a betting person, I would have bet that the first call from school administration, in the 2015-2016 school year, would jingle my phone on or between days 7 to 9.

Glad I do not bet.  Two and a half days into the new school year the administration from the high school called to discuss their concerns and schedule a meeting regarding those concerns with us.  For not the dwarf that we would have anticipated being in trouble, but regarding Happy.

"Happy?!!?" I mutter in astonishment.  Wow, that is a surprise.  "What has he done?" As my mind imagines all the possible scenarios.   I am thinking maybe he pulled the fire alarm, or got lost in the maze of hallways and was late for class, or even that he just wanted to be part of another class and went there instead of his assigned class.

None of the above.  He staged a sit out.  A peaceful, passive aggressive, for one, sit out.  A lone boy, sitting outside his classroom in the hallway.  He refused to go to class. He refused to talk to the teacher.  He refused to make eye contact with anyone. On the first day of the sit out, after about two hours he asked to speak to the assistant principal.

The second day more of the same.

On the third day, half way through the morning I get the call.  

They want to know if I have any idea what the problem is.  NO!  Each day after school, Happy was "happy" to tell me he had a great day.   How would I know what the problem is.  If there was a problem the first two days of school and it is carrying over to the third day, why are they just now calling me is my question.  Clearly, I could have driven over in the first ten minutes of the first day's protest and fixed this...

Upon his arrival home at the end of day 3, we have a chat, Happy and I.  It seems, according to him, that he is upset because the teacher is making them repeat work from the end of last year.  His words, not mine, "It makes me feel like a stupid retard." I look at him with an amused and puzzled look on my face.  Rolling around in my mind his statement.  A statement about him remembering something that he did over three months ago? The boy can't remember what he did yesterday for heavens sake.

So I explain to him that in this situation all the students are doing work from last year.  It is a way for the teacher to figure out which of her students retained information from the year before, gauge where her new students were in their learning currently, so that she can make a plan for the new year.
I also kindly explained that his placement in this classroom was a gift.  The classroom he started in was very restrictive, with many students that had no verbal skills at all, and that if he was not able to turn around his behaviors, he would have to go back to that classroom.  Well no, that is not what he desires.  I suppose if I were to read the look on his face when I explained what the consequences would be if he kept up his protesting, that he did not for one second consider that his actions would require the school to take action and institute a consequence for his behavior.

As the story unfolds, and I have a chance to speak to the teacher, I hear that many measures were taken to help Happy be successful in the classroom. Because he is a returning student to the program they made him a mentor to a younger student. (Happy LOVES to tell others what to do)  Moreover, he loves to be helpful and have a role of importance, yet even in that he was unable to manage and over come his feelings of anxiety, anger and frustration.  Clearly he was not even able or willing to use his words to discuss this with the staff.    In further conversation with the teacher we believe that we "figured" out the problem.

It seems Happy is not so abnormal at all!  His pride over rode his good judgement.  What my gut as his momma is telling me, is that Happy really had no idea what skills and assignments they did the end of last year. However there was a student or two in the room with better memory than Happy and they were giving the teacher fits about "having to review" and grumbling things out loud like, " we did this last year" , "why do we have to do this again," so Happy, in his quest to be like the rest, jumped into the grumbling.  However, when the work needed done, he had no idea what to do, and was unable to complete the task.  Insert pride here.  Insert inability to communicate well here.  Insert self perceived embarrassment here.   Mix it all together, and you get one anxious, frustrated boy, sitting alone in the hallway, silently stewing.

Oh the joys of parenting special needs kids.  I informed the school that yes I would come to the meeting and yes this was concerning to us as well.  Additionally I explained to them, that they really do not have to go this alone with Happy.   I am more than willing to drive the three miles anytime during the day for a mom-vention, which should be able to put the dwarf back on course, ASAP without the waste of administration's time and energy.   In the meantime we are looking into options here for him so that he can be more successful. Academically he is just not interested or able (he has not made gains in his learning since he plateaued at the second grade learning level 5 years ago) and unless it is in his wheel house of interests, and hands on, forget him retaining information.

So we press on.   He is almost an adult in the eyes of the state, and our goal as always is to have him set up for success at the most appropriate level for him.  We will be meeting with the Easter Seals organization next week to see if we can find a new program for him that is highly supervised and hands on so that he can continue his education without feeling the need to stage a protest.

You really can't make this stuff up!  2 1/2 days into the new school year is a record in the kingdom for sure!   -