Off to School

Today I am attending public school Kindergarten for the first time in my life. Attend I must, because if I do not then my child may not attend either.

To say the last few weeks have not been easy would be an understatement. Try though I might to bring to the school's attention Austin's behavior issues, their relationship has been... strained.

Two weeks before Kindergarten was to start the principal of Austin's daycare mentioned to me that I may want to contact the school in advance to make them aware of his Asperger's/behavior and make sure the teacher that he would have was not new, but tenured; someone who would not be easily shaken by his antics.

I called and spoke to the assistant principal and voiced my concerns. She agreed to look into classroom placement and get back with me. She did so quickly, calling me back right away. She mentioned that my father's sister, also a tenured teacher at the same school, had already looked into it and had placed him with a great match. There was nothing to do then but wait for orientation.

At orientation I pulled the teacher aside and introduced myself. I told her that I would like to meet the next week in advance of school starting. She agreed and we did. She went over her behavior system (involving green, yellow, and red just like a stoplight, plus a system where the kids feed a jar that looks like a monster a Popsicle stick when they make a bad choice. Too many times feeding the monster equals a move from green to yellow. ) Pre-emptively I also scheduled another meeting for the second week of school, thinking that he would have been one full week and we could re-evaluate at that point. It all seemed great. Next week, staggered start.

Spending the day with four other children at the staggered start was a piece of cake. Yes, there were new rules to learn but overall the day was a success. Check. Next week, the real deal (minus Labor Day Monday.)

GREAT FIRST WEEK! There were a few days where Austin had to feed the monster, but ultimately he was in the green everyday. YAHOO! What was I so worried about? Next week, second full week.

First two days were fantastic: in the green! Come Wednesday, though, there was trouble. I happened to be off work that day and decided to take Austin to school instead of sending him to the Before School program. It started as we were sitting in the car rider line.

I tried explain, "Today you will be a car rider. You will not attend Before School."

"But I am a car rider every day."

"You're right. But today, instead of going to Before School, I am taking you right to school."

Minutes passed and I thought we were done, but then another question rose to the surface.

"So I won't go to After School today?"

Deep breath (or sigh, depending on how you look at it.) "Yes. You will go to After School, but you won't go to Before School."

Again, a pause. Then, "But I want to go to After School."

The conversation deteriorated as we waited in line, held captive in the stream of mini-vans and crossover SUVs. Austin continued to perseverate, I continued to rationalize. This is absolutely the single most maddening part of his condition. The inability to get him redirected, even when presented with what I think is perfect logic.

As the line inched forward and we rounded the corner, a friendly, energetic, and determined teacher approached the car. Our conversation had reached a fevered pitch. Austin lurched forward, wrapping his arms around the headrest of my seat, and locked himself into a death grip. She literally pried him out of the car. I shouted and feebly assisted, removing a finger here or there, locked by fight-or-flight and feeling mostly like I was in one of those nightmares where you are trying to run or punch and physically cannot. His perseveration at least changed topic, and he was at that point fake whimpering. "Mommy! Mommy!" over and over and over. She wrangled him out of the car and onto the sidewalk. I know this because I watched it all in the rear view as I gunned it out of there. Ok, I didn't gun it, it was a school zone afterall, but my flight response had finally kicked in, and I wanted to be a million miles away and there holding him all at the same time.

Inevitably, I received a call from school that day, and every other day that week. The honeymoon had ended. I met with the school that day for our prearranged meeting and strategized solutions.

The following week, under urging from his psychiatrist, we upped his dosage of Zoloft and started Ritalin. Though there were a few green days at the end of that week, this week began with hiding under lunch room tables, tearing apart his classroom and pretending to be an Angry Bird toward the sweetest, most loving little girl in his classroom, which resulted in him sticking out his tongue and blowing spittle into her face. That is what prompted his most latest suspension, and my going to school as a kindergartner today.
 
I am:
...caught up in this inner turmoil of understanding that there will be no quick-fix, like I once imagined, and wanting desperately to fix it.
...concerned that I am not doing enough, or doing the right thing, yet I have no idea what that might be???
...aware that euphemisms like 'antics' sound funny in a blog but are horrifying when it's your child's face he is spitting in, or your classroom he is destroying. 
...terrified of understating the impact of his behavior, but knowing, too, that I have to stand up for his rights and make sure he is being given every opportunity. I'm his mom. If I don't fight for him, who will?

Dealing with Austin is exhausting. I have cried Every. Single. Day. for the last two weeks. I would never want to give the impression that I am minimizing that, but I am also resentful of those who fail to remember the impetus. This will not be fixed by sending him home from school every day, or whipping him into submission, yet, his behavior must not go unpunished.

There is no denouement....I am off to school, like any other kindergartner on her first day, with every good intention that today will be a green day.