UNITED KINGDOM – APRIL 12: Girls of the Excelsior Club diving in for the start of their club championship race at Kenwood Pond on Sunday, where many swimmers enjoyed the sunshine in the water.’ (Photo by Planet News Archive/SSPL/Getty Images)
Ten years ago, when Megan was three years old, I took her tiny hand in mine and together we walked into her new preschool. We had recently moved to Southern California from Boston. Megan had just graduated, if you will, from her early intervention program in New England. As soon as we moved into our new home, Meg was ready to transition to preschool. I was super excited for her to go to school just like her big brother. I loved getting her darling Back to School outfit together and picking out a backpack. Oh her backpack. Of course I bought her the smallest, cutest one I could find. Getting Megan ready for preschool on that March morning in 2005 was truly special. That is, until I opened the door to Megan’s classroom. What I saw blew my mind and broke my heart. No one told me what class they had enrolled Megan in or why they had placed her there. The children in the classroom where medically fragile students. Many strapped into their chairs at kidney bean shaped tables. Aids working with them on various goal-focused activities. The teacher, smiling, greeted Megan with a warm hello. Then she guided Megan to a chair at the table and proceeded to strap Megan in. I froze inside. My heart crumpled into a million pieces and my mind began to race. I was confused and hurt. These thoughts raced through my mind, “Why? Why are they strapping my perfectly capable child into a chair? She sits at the dinner table fine in a big girl chair. She doesn’t need to be belted in! What is going on in here?!?!” I was so upset, I had no idea what to do or say. So I stood there looking around the room dumbfounded. I tried calming the screaming fit going on in my head and the turmoil in my heart with a bit of reason, “Okay Lisa, these are professionals. They know what they are doing. They know what is best for these students.” And with Megan happily doing her work at that kidney bean shaped table, strapped into her chair, I kissed her goodbye, reluctantly walked toward the door, turned and waved at my princess. The walk back to my car was an excruciatingly painful one. With a lump in my throat the size of Texas, I must’ve choked back a thousand tears. As soon as I was in the safety of my car, I broke down. Sobbing hard, I called my husband and told him the story. His response, “Go back and pick her up. Just homeschool her!”
That’s when the war began. The Special Ed War of 2005. This battle waged on for ten, agonizing years. I wanted so badly to follow my intelligent husband’s advice. But I also wanted what I thought was best for Megan. I gave teachers countless opportunities to prove themselves. For some crazy reason, I got it in my head that these Special Education educators, the School District’s Program Specialists, and therapists were all on Megan’s side and wanted what was best for her. As a result, I didn’t want to throw the towel in and give up so fast. Then IEPs came into the picture. A whole new aspect to this war. Quickly, we found ourselves having to fight for Megan in a whole new way. The District always wanting to give just the minimum. Over and over again we heard things like, “We feel Megan doesn’t need any more speech therapy, so we are going to phase that out.” Say what? Phase speech therapy out for a student with Down syndrome? That’s like the number one therapeutic service she will need throughout her life. Then it was “Oh, Megan doesn’t qualify for Occupational Therapy.” Yet every IEP assessment showed her lacking severely in that area. The war intensified. We brought in back up “troops” and hired an Educational Advocate. His presence, professionalism and knowledge gave us the IEP edge. We started seeing positive results–Megan was getting the services she needed and for once I began to think we were winning the war! In reality, it was far from over. We fought for her to get the best teacher. We fought for mainstreaming. We kept fighting for everything. After ten years battling non-stop, that wise advice my husband gave me a decade earlier, echoed loudly in my heart and soul, “just homeschool Megan”.
Why did I let the war go on for so long, you ask? I wanted so badly for Megan to have a good education, ride the school bus, and have experiences like her siblings and typical peers. Ultimately, I didn’t want her to miss out on anything. From class parties and field trips to occupational and speech therapy {two critical and very necessary elements–both of which we won’t lose homeschooling}.
When Megan started preschool, I had only been a special needs parent for three short years. I assumed educators knew more than me. After all they were the “professionals” and had been at it a lot longer. Never assume such a thing! BIG MISTAKE on my part! Also, times were far different back in 2005. There were very few parenting blogs, Facebook was less than a year old, and Smartphones didn’t exist {heck I was the proud owner of a pink metallic flip phone}. iPads were a thing of the future, Instagram and Twitter–all social media–were nonexistent. So hearing what other parents were doing and getting the necessary support was quite limited. Today it’s a whole new ballgame. One that inspired me to take the homeschool leap.
Looking back, I can’t help myself from thinking of all the things I should have done differently for Megan on her academic journey. Sadly, I regret a lot and in the end she suffered. Often I am asked, “What would you change if you could go back and do it over?” First, I would have never placed Megan in a public school special education preschool program. Rather, I would have found Megan a preschool program where she could be with her typical peers. As soon as it was time for her to enter Kindergarten, I would’ve pushed harder for inclusion. Inclusion is next to impossible once you are in the special education system {at least in our school district}, leaving us stuck. Stuck in classrooms and special education programs that weren’t the perfect fit for our daughter and her academic needs. Finding alternative programs and options were next to impossible.
My solution: Homeschool. I know how my daughter learns best. We are diving into a sea of at home learning in the just three and a half weeks.
You know what? I am beyond excited for this adventure. I have fought with the idea of homeschooling for ten years. The reality is, I have known deep down inside for a very long time my husband was right–this was the best solution for our girl. Finally, I am ready. I know there will be difficult days. There will also be incredible days filled with breakthroughs and visible progress. Progress I get to witness first hand. Not progress someone else tells me about from across a conference room table.
When Megan was in school, every morning I’d drop her off wondering and worrying. What would she learn? Would her teachers pay attention to her? Would fellow students be nice to her? Would she have friends to play with on the playground? Will her teachers call me later in the day with a “problem” and need me to pick her up? Countless thoughts like these flooded my mind daily. On the flip side, when I dropped Megan’s older brother and little sister off at school, I was excited for them. I couldn’t wait to pick them up at the end of the day, always eager to hear how it went. Homeschooling eliminates the wonder and worry I dealt with on a daily basis. I’ve taken the teaching reigns and am driving Megan in the direction she needs to go. At long last.
Please join me on this journey. I will be sharing our homeschooling experiences and breakthroughs here.
[Sidenote: I don’t want you, my readers, thinking that this article is aimed at the school district we are in, the teachers or administrators we have worked with. In no way am I bashing the school district we live in or those working for it. The Special Education Program in the US is very broken. There is no consistency from school to school, district to district or state to state. I know that our public school experiences are not unique. Over the past ten years, I have heard story after story which mirrors Megan’s. There is a serious need for Special Education reform.]
Photo Credits: Google Images
