Walking a fine line

Marisa went to an inclusive Montessori preschool where she was loved and supported by great staff, great parents, and a great group of kids.  She certainly had issues there, especially being overly physical with some of the kids, but overall it was a great two years, and I was very sad to move her on from that loving environment out into the big world.  We had two choices to consider for Kindergarten, our church school, which Nadia went to from K-8, or our public, neighborhood school.  If I had placed her at our church school I would have had one blissful year with both kids at the same location, but alas, that was not to be.  Nadia graduated from 8th grade last year and moved on out into the bigger world herself.

I chose the public school for Kindergarten for several reasons.  It was a half-day program and our church school was full-day.  The K teacher at our church school is a lovely woman but I could sense that she wasn't sure if she could handle having Roo in her class (big red flag!); and our school district promised me what I call the Holy Grail of Special Education : placement in the regular classroom in our neighborhood school with supports and services brought into the classroom to Roo.  I had fought long and hard for this, attended multiple transition to Kindergarten and IEP workshops,and did everything I could think of just shy of finding a local disabilities rights attorney to make sure my child would be included with her typical peers.  Our school district maintains several "program" classes, including a self-contained class in a grade school not far from our home, but not in our neighborhood.  I know many of the families who have had kids in that class and they are lovely families with great kids, but I was not going to agree to have that as Marisa's placement.  Even if I weren't a supporter of inclusion, the idea of placing a kid with a speech delay and challenging behaviors into a classroom of K through 5th graders with the same issues, just did not appeal to me.  I knew it would not be right for her and that she would not make adequate progress in that environment.  So, I pushed ahead with letting the district know exactly what I expected in terms of her placement and that I knew our rights and the law.  They did inform me that behavior would be the factor that would determine whether or not she could remain in the regular classroom, and I said I would cross that bridge if and when we got to it.

We made it 2 months in the regular classroom at our neighborhood school.  I won't bash the school or the staff there.  They did try to support her, and I know that at least some of them even grew to love her in the short time she was there.  The Principal was truly awesome and I stayed in contact with her for a while after we left, just to let her know the progress Marisa was making at home with me.  The problem was that my district did not provide her with the additional support she needed to be successful in that environment.  Just prior to the 4th IEP meeting in 2 months, all dealing with behavioral issues, I submitted a letter, cc'd to the director of special ed for the district and the school Principal, formally requesting a one on one aid to help Marisa meet the goals on her behavioral support plan.  In the letter I quoted from case law that specifically states that behavior alone cannot be used as an excuse to pull a child out of an inclusive setting.   My request was denied, I think on a technicality, and when that happened I could see the writing on the wall and could sense the uphill battle facing me if I tried to go further.  I knew the district wanted to remove Marisa and place her in the self-contained classroom.  So, rather than let that happen, I homeschooled her for the remainder of the year, and I don't regret that for a second.

Now I am thinking that sensory dysfunction played a role in her inability to thrive in the regular classroom last year.  That and not having enough one on one time with someone qualified to work successfully with her.  She just could not self-regulate enough to be able to keep herself together in that setting, and the school was unable to provide her with the support she needed.   We didn't (still don't) have the money to go into a drawn out legal battle with our district, even though I believe the law would have been on our side.

I know Inclusion can and does work for many children, and it is the right thing to do.  But for my sweet girl, bogged down with too many factors that make sitting still and being quiet in a seat in a large and exciting classroom, full day inclusion just isn't the best option.