At the thrift store, I spotted it.
One of those little statuettes from the 1970s. I remember having them in the house when I was a kid, up on the shelves with knickknacks and tchotchkes.
But this one. This one was for me:
World’s Best Mother.
I brought it up to the register to buy it, and the woman in line behind me saw it. Well, part of it.
“What does that say?” She asked.
“World’s Best Mother.” I picked it up off the counter and showed it to her.
And I bought it.
I don’t know about your house, but in our house, summer is rough. Simon *loves* school.
He loves the people. He loves the routine. He loves the activities.
Starting yesterday (Memorial Day), he began to focus on ESY (Extended School Year for y’all not in the know…it’s like summer school, but for kids with special needs who need extra help over the summer).
He spent the whole Monday talking about ESY, asking about it, telling us when it was.
Unfortunately, ESY is only four weeks long. Two weeks in June. Two weeks in July. Four days each of those weeks. Three hours each of those days.
4 x 4 x 3 = 36 hours.
Over nine weeks.
I’m going into the summer prepared and hopeful.
The World’s Best Mother award is part of those preparations.
Like most mothers – especially those of us mothers with special needs kids – there are more days when we feel like the worst mothers instead of the best mothers.
But we shouldn’t.
Even on those worst mother days, we’re still pretty good. As long as our kids are still alive, we’re still alive, and no one is going to jail, it’s a good day.
We’re the World’s Best Mothers.
Yesterday was a day of rock star parenting.
It started with one of the best parts of summer vacation – sleeping in. Not that Simon slept in, mind you. But he let me sleep in! He ignored me for a good hour or two, not even needing me to get him a drink or any food. It was glorious.
Then we went to the library. He picked out a new book: Quiet Loud by Leslie Patricelli. The book is full of things that are, well, quiet and loud. Then, on the last two pages, there are pictures of all different things that are quiet and loud. He had the book open to those pages, and so I went ahead and tried to quiz him on them, asking him about items that were in front of him. Then I made it harder. I asked him about things that weren’t on the pages: a rocking chair and a phone. He quickly told me that rocking chairs were quiet, and then when I asked him about the phone, he made the ringing noises before telling me they were loud. Score! Total communication and connection!
As we were leaving, though, he started getting upset: unhappy flapping, echolalia about why babies cry (from Elmo), and rocking back and forth in a jerky movement. I asked him why he was upset, and he said he was sad. I asked why he was sad, and he said he was crying. This is our usual exchange; he struggles with talking about why he’s upset or sad, resorting to using a circular pattern of questions and answers. After going through this for a few minutes, he said he wanted cookies. A response! And then I pulled out my rock star parenting moment. I HAD COOKIES WITH ME! Totally nailed it! Amazing!
After that, we headed to Target. Because shopping. He kept repeating a phrase, but I couldn’t understand the first word. Every time he said it, I asked him to repeat it, hoping I would finally figure it out. Finally, I asked him to spell it. And he did. R-O-T-T-E-N. I said it back to him, and after that, he repeated it, saying it more clearly each time. I still have no idea what show he got the phrase from, but still.
Three successes in one day! Total rock start parenting day!
As for today…well, let’s not talk about today.
I got two different emails in the same week, and it made me sad to read them together. One was a link to an article titled “Tips for Teachers: How To Deal with Upset Parents.” The other email was from a group I belong to, a parent support group. While it sometimes is a good place to exchange information, but sometimes…not so much.
Now, first off, let me say that I will not name any names, and the person who wrote this legitimately believes it, and, as such, I don’t want to mock her or make fun or her in any way. Instead, I want to sympathize with her, and I wonder what it took to make her believe this.
Here’s a quick quote from the post:
“They [the school districts] think we should be grateful they even allow SE kids in school and parents should just be happy for a ‘break.’
“Advocacy of SE kids can be draining. You win one battle and they will hate you. You think if you win one battle the school will change, but they never will until some powerful force forces them to do so. I’d put the Office of Civil rights on speed dial. Don’t look to the state education board to be in your corner. The first thing they do is ask you what district you are talking about, and then they give the district a heads up.
“Each year, they have teachers and several school personnel go to a seminar put on by district lawyers who teach them how to get around the law.”
Now, I can understand her feelings, to some extent. Many years ago, we had a problem with my son’s school district. And we found out, after the “fight,” that the whole reason it was even a fight at all was because of one person – one person who was probably too scared to admit that she had made a mistake. People below her were willing to work with us. She, however, seemed unable to let them because it would undermine her perceived authority. It was a bad experience, and if we had continued to have bad experiences like that, we probably would feel like the person who posted the above message.
But…I have to say, I don’t believe that school districts are bad and evil. I don’t believe that schools seriously send their teachers to a session to learn “how to get around the law.”
What I believe is that there are bad people everywhere. You can have a bad director of special education. You can have a bad teacher. You can have a bad lawyer. You can have a bad police officer. You can have a bad barista. (Sorry, coffee is an important part of almost every SE parent’s life, amIright?)
As someone who “won a battle” against a district, I have to say that I have not felt hated. I have not felt like the school refuses to change. I have not felt like I need to constantly be in touch with the Office of Civil Rights. Maybe it’s because I’m lucky. But I don’t think that’s it. I think there’s something else there.
I think most people who are in special education are there because they care. Because they want to make a difference. They share things like the article written by Dave Wilson where he advises teachers to reflect on what parents say and what they mean, be open to ideas, ask for help, and communicate the positives. Does that sound like something that would be out there if these teachers and other professionals didn’t care? If they really went to training to learn how to avoid the law, why would they care about connecting with parents?
If you, as a parent, honestly feel that the school, the teachers, the district, even the state education agency is out to get you, you may need to stop. You may need to read that article and see if you can apply it to yourself. Do you need to learn how to deal with the school and its reps? Are you actually the problem?