This has been a crazy whirlwind of a year. My drafts folder is full of posts about difficult situations, unsupportive administrations, poorly trained staff turning behavior plans into worthless pieces of paper....But I'm ready to delete all of those and never look back.
So I was thrilled to leave it all behind, even if the way it happened was less than ideal. I took what was supposed to be a short term gig in the winter, and now here we are, a week from the end of school, and I have learned more than I ever thought possible from this situation. I have worked with a staff of incredible caring educators, an administration that celebrates the teachers and their hard work. I had to realize that I was being asked if I needed anything because people genuinely wanted to help-they weren't just saying it out of politeness. No one was put-upon if I said yes, and I had plenty of chances to return the favor later.
But today isn't about all that. Today was our final day of Kindergarten. Today I watched a little boy who when I met him *refused* to sit on the rug, join his class for activities and lessons-a boy who turned his back on the situation, and kicked or hit or screamed when that failed....Today I watched him get up on stage. I watched his eyes light up when he saw his family. I watched him sing his heart out, and dance. I watched the anxiety melt out of him. I watched him put his arm around another child's shoulders and bow. I watched him use his words when the waiting and the sitting was too much, and I watched him slowly warm himself back up to go back in for the final number, his beloved dance song. And then we danced, and we laughed, and we felt the love of his family radiating all the way from the back of the packed room.
I know I'll never forget him. I'll never forget the look on his face the first time I asked him if he was worried about a situation he was refusing to participate in. And when I told him we'd just look, and we could leave. I'll never forget the first time he told me he was mad instead of spitting at me. I'll never forget him leaning over to me right before we went on stage and telling me "I'm scared. I want to hide with you" (behind the curtain, where I told him I would be) and his smile when I said "What if I come with you?" I'll never forget doing those silly dances on stage with him, and not caring what any of the parents thought except maybe his....and I'll never forget watching him, knowing he was ready, and stepping to the side so his family could get some glorious pictures of him, comfortable and happy, singing with his class....with me close but "hiding".
It took a lot. It took being there, being with him, when the anxiety and frustration welled up inside of him and exploded out. It took time, and patience-a lot of it. It took seeing past him needing control to figuring out why. I heard from so many people what he wouldn't do, what he couldn't do....and their reasons why. It took being there for him and letting him tell me in his own time, in his own way, why, to start being able to fill his toolbox with new strategies.
I have been reading a lot of blogs lately written by Autistic adults and young adults. I've been taking to heart their words, about the way the world thinks about them, the assumptions they make. I have them to thank for my decision to slow down, to be with this child, to recognize the fear in his eyes even when the rest of his body screamed "defiance" in ways that were hard to ignore. And I love the team of educators that worked with me to support him, who tossed their initial assumptions out the window, who embraced new ideas and different motivations for familiar behaviors, and who joined us in taking a new approach. I've been lucky to have them, and so has he.
