I keep waiting for something super funny to happen. Then I will write a super funny blog post. Won’t that be super funny?
Today was the results meeting for Colin. Remember the forms? Well, today is the day when we go in and they tell us that Colin falls on the autism spectrum and qualifies for special education.
Yes, we know.
Secretly in my heart of hearts, I am hoping that we’ll go in and they’ll say, “It’s a miracle!! He doesn’t need our services any more!!”
That didn’t happen, but that’s okay. Once again all at the meeting remarked that Colin is a good student and a good kid . . . and then they talk about the reasons he still needs help. Even though I have heard it all before — like once a year for ten years — it’s still a spirit crusher.
Then something interesting happened. Two female teachers started talking about him spending his after lunch time alone. Maybe a board game could be organized. Maybe he could move into the media center. Maybe he could get together with some spectrum kids.
Colin piped up, “It’s fine. I like doing what I’m doing.”
One of the teachers whispered, “Well, that’s what he says . . .”
I started to panic. Colin doesn’t socialize enough! Colin doesn’t seek out other kids! Colin should be initiating games of basketball after downing his salami sandwich!
The principal, a man who is a former shop teacher, said, “He’s fine. I see him every day. Kids stop and say hi to him. He’s not bothering anybody. He’s fine.”
“I’m fine,” said Colin.
And I was reminded what I always need reminding at these meetings — our culture has a very specific way it expects everyone to behave and not everyone fits that mold. Since I have never been a very good mold filler myself, you’d think I’d remember this, but when you’re talking about my child . . . I just want what’s best for him.
How difficult to remember what’s best for him may not be what’s best for everyone else.