A family's story

I know I also haven’t written as much lately because, well, my boys are getting older, and I just don’t know how much I should share. I hear this sentiment echoed often through the blogosphere…I do hope that my boys know how much I love them and how much my writing is a catharsis for me.

I decided to write today because I am struggling to process through the events of this morning, and I just need to work out MY feelings.

Our school always does a breakfast for veterans. It is well done, and teaches the students about sacrifices that our veterans have made for our country. The third graders are responsible for putting together the event. Well, the teachers and a few of the third grade parents plan it. The kids make crafts and invite veterans and sit with the veterans during breakfast. The rest of us moms and dads volunteer and serve the veterans and kids, and help them in their endeavors.

We had prepped Tate for today. I did a little social story. His teacher sent home the songs that would be sung. I showed him pictures from the Veterans’ Breakfast that Jake’s class put on a couple years ago. He knew that I would be there helping out, and that my dad, Grandpa, would be there, too.

Tate started out just fine. He sat with his Grandpa and with some other students from the class that he pushes into. Then he started to look for me. I was out directing guests to the right location. One of the aides came to get me so that Tate could say hi to me. We walked in, and Tate ran up and gave me the biggest hug and hugest smile. We talked about how I was going to help, and how he had to go sit with Grandpa. He went back and sat with my dad.

At first, everything was just fine. The veterans mingled with the children. We parents walked around, offering refills of juice, coffee, water, and fruit and pastries. Tate happily sat by my dad and talked to him. He started to stim with a spoon. He came up to find me. I assured him that all was well, even though I could hear the voices getting louder, and the commotion started to increase.

Tate sat beautifully through a VFW representative’s speech. He kept stimming, but he was seated. Then, people started to move around. Parent volunteers started to roam the aisles to get pictures of their kids with their invited veterans, or pictures of them with their child. Tate is in a no picture phase, so I knew that when I asked he would politely turn me down. “No thanks, Mommy.” I snuck in a few but they weren’t the greatest quality.

The noise in the gym started to increase. The screech of the chairs. The talking over one another. Peals of laughter. Shrieks of delight. Little by little the noise increased as the time dragged on. It started getting warmer in the gym, too. Some adults took off their sweaters or their vests. Some removed jackets. The third graders were starting to roam around and find their friends.

During this time Tate got up and posed for a picture with some of his classmates. He really struggled to do it, because, like I said, he is in a no picture phase. But his beloved girl classmates were asking him to join them, so he did. Then they were starting to get silly and do girly things. It was clear that Tate was no longer a part of their interaction. I asked Tate to sit down. He did, begrudgingly. He wanted to be with his girls.

One of the girls told him he couldn’t sit by them, because he isn’t in that classroom. He got flustered. He really struggles when it comes to handling his emotions of disappointment or embarrassment. He was so disappointed. He threw a spoon in her general direction. When I asked him to calm down, he said, “sorry, mommy”. I tried to explain that the girls were with their class, and wanted to be together..and that he could come talk to the boys. He didn’t want any of that.

Then, well, one of his beloved girls came back to him and asked why he was yelling at his mom. He lost it. He pawed at her. I pulled him aside and asked him to calm down. He laid on the floor. One of his aides came by and we got him into the hall, the hallway where it should have been quiet, but unfortunately, the 2nd grade was getting their coats to go outside for gym class. He wasn’t getting his quiet escape, so he asked to go back in the gym.

As we entered the gym, the girls came by him again. This time, he hit at his beloved girl a little harder. I was gobsmacked. I reacted, maybe not as I should have, but I told him he needed to calm down and keep his hands to himself. I directed him to his seat. I forced him to sit down. He started to call me stupid. Then he threw another utensil in his beloved girl’s direction. One of the regular ed teachers tried to step in and reprimanded him. That did no good. He started to fake wail. He was losing his shtuff.

His teacher came to the rescue. As he was whining out of frustration, she walked up calmly and asked if he’d like to go do a break in the classroom. He said no. He stood up and called his beloved girl stupid again. Tate’s teacher knew he didn’t mean it…she knew that he was just frustrated…and embarrassed…and overloaded. So she told him that he had a choice. He could do a break in her classroom or go get a drink of water so he could calm down. He chose the classroom, and they were off.

As they exited the gym, the third graders lined up to sing their songs for the veterans. Tate SHOULD have been there. THe singing is his favorite part. He LOVES music. He’d been practicing all month. But it wasn’t meant to be. He was content to be in the quiet classroom where he could bounce on the trampoline for a few and not have all the overwhelming noise and commotion.

As Tate found his calm in the classroom, my heart broke. It’s not fair. Something as “simple” as an hour-long breakfast with other third graders and veterans was just too much. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. Instead, I watched other children sing and sway and pledge their allegiance to the flag. My dad watched other people’s grandkids belt out “The Star Spangled Banner” and “America the Beautiful”.

In those moments, I wondered, are the gaps getting too big? Is Tate being properly served by being in a general school setting at various times during the day? The other children his age are maturing at a faster rate. They are able to do so much more independently. They are able to perform songs as complicated as “The Star Spangled Banner” and can last an hour in a large group of people. Tate tried. He gave it his all. But in the end, it was too much. And is this gap fair to him?

And I find myself back in the hard place…wondering if we are doing the right thing. Wondering if we are keeping him in a general school setting because it’s more comfortable for us…is it what’s best for him?

And that internal struggle as a parent begins over again…

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Comments on: "The Gaps..and the Hard Place" (1)

  1. I’m just here to show some support. A virtual shoulder to lean on. It’s so very hard. I know.

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