It's All a Matter of Perspective...

Happy 4th of July at the Bay!

Wow, it's been a busy summer around here (hence the lack of recent posts!).  I feel like school just got out, and yet here we are, almost time to get ready for school.  In addition to a couple trips to my parents' house on the Chesapeake Bay (aka my favorite place in the world!), we've had a month-and-a-half of junior tennis, "pre-team" swimming, kindergarten & OT-themed camps for C, our usual OT appointments when C hasn't been in OT camp, and lots of fun with our babysitter for M while I've been shuttling C to and from all of her activities.  I feel like I've lived in my car for weeks now, and although I totally balked at last year's purchase of our first - GAG! - Sienna minivan, I have been really glad we went that route (especially since I told my husband the only way I would do it was if we got the nicest one out there) for the simple fact that carpool has been far more pleasant experience with a few necessary luxuries thrown in (Remote starter to keep the engine and AC running while I run into camp for pick-up in this disgusting DC-metro-area heat!  A DVD player to keep the girls awake!  Sirius satellite radio to keep ME awake!).  When I used to think about a luxury car, I thought "BMW convertible."  Now I think "power doors."  My, how times have changed...  But I digress.

Waiting for her first "race" at the mini-meet - kickboard!

Trucking along, all by herself, in the "big" pool - huge step for C!

At the swim banquet, so proud of her first swimming trophy!

Even though I feel like the season is flying by, all the shuttling around and tight schedules have been worth it.  Both girls really do best with some structure to their days, so that's been great.  C in particular has had some great new experiences through swimming and tennis, got to know her new school at kindergarten camp (yes, we have decided to move forward with our plan - more on that soon!), and is really enjoying OT camp (we have one more week left).  It's held at a school that is affiliated with the center where she goes for her regular OT appointments and runs from 12:30-3:30 every afternoon.  Each day is planned with each child's goals in mind, and includes activities in their two sensory gyms (an example and explanation of a sensory gym can be found here), fine motor games and projects in the classroom, and lots of work on social skills through play.  We get a daily report of progress on the goals that her therapists and we have set for her.  C has made some great new friends who are where she is in terms of her development.  They're all basically typical kids who happen to have a few quirks or motor challenges that they are working through together, which is wonderful.

All school year, we worked hard to get C ready for kindergarten while also digesting her diagnosis.  As I have mentioned before, her teachers were amazing, but the year did have its ups and downs.  I know that they loved C and were glad she was part of the classroom mix.  They would have done (and did!) anything to help her be successful, but I know that she was one of the more challenging kids in the class from time to time.  Some of the day-to-day stuff was harder for her than others, which was to be expected as we continued to shake out the idiosyncrasies of her SPD diagnosis.  She fit in, and yet she stood out, which is always hard for a parent to watch.  C loved her school and her teachers, but at the end of the day, she came home exhausted from working so hard to do what she was supposed to do and helping herself give her body what she needed in terms of input (and sometimes doing so in inappropriate ways that got her into trouble).

What a difference being part of a group where everyone is a bit more like C has made.  When I pick her up from camp, I hear things like, "C adds such a great dynamic to our group!" and "Her enthusiasm is contagious to the other kids!" and "She is doing an amazing job of modeling appropriate social skills/persistance/group participation!" Here, her strengths as well as her quirks are celebrated.  She gets what she needs to help regulate her senses, and is happy and balanced when I see her at the end of the camp day.

It makes my husband and me so proud.  She is working hard and is fitting in.  I don't ever want to change C, but I am sure that any of you readers out there who have been where we are can appreciate how wonderful it is to see your kid as just one of the group, rather than the anomaly.  As the title of this post states, I guess it's all a matter of perspective, and this summer is exactly what C - and I - needed.

To Tell, Or Not To Tell...

...That is the question.  C's last year of preschool is rapidly coming to a close.  The next couple weeks are a whirlwind of activity for her class, from the family picnic at a local park today, to the last Manners Day (a day held once a month during which the kids have a special "fancy" luncheon where they wear their Sunday best and practice their table manners), to the class circus on Friday.  All of this leads up to the end-of-year program on the 25th, and then my baby is done with preschool!

C's first and last days of 2's preschool - 2008-2009

I can't believe how quickly time has flown and that we are now preparing for Kindergarten at a new school.  C's current preschool is this small, supportive, protective little bubble where we have spent the past three years (and will be spending three more, as M starts preschool this Fall!).  This year, in particular, has been challenging yet amazing.  C has learned so much.  Her teachers have been incredible - willing to try anything to support her and her growth.  We have had an open dialogue from the beginning, which has really helped.  Prior to her first day, I had a conversation with her teachers to say, "We think something is up.  We don't want to put a name on it, but we do want you to watch and let us know what you see.  We will move forward from there."  Three weeks into school, we were already discussing possibilities, and C was evaluated in October, with her diagnosis coming in early November.   We are all on the same page (or at least we try to be), and they have allowed their classroom to be a bit of a laboratory for us as we have tried strategies and sensory tools to help C regulate herself during the school day.  In theory, this is how it should be for every child, in every school.  But as a teacher myself, I know that this is not necessarily the case.  We know we have been lucky...which is what is making me so anxious for next year.

C's first day of 3's pre-school and the end-of-year picnic - 2009-2010

C, heading to the first day of 4's preschool (and M wishing she was, too!) - 2010

C will be heading to one of our local Catholic schools in the Fall.  It happens to be the one where I went as a child, and where we have lots of friends.  The school is an incredibly warm, welcoming environment that emphasizes not only strong academics, but also has a religious component that, as an interfaith family in which the kids are being raised Catholic, we need.  Our county school system is in the top 3% nationally, so our decision was also based on the criteria that whatever private school we were looking at needed to compete with those standards, and our new school seems to fit the bill, for the most part.  They have support services and resource teachers, and from what I understand, can help us access additional county services should they become necessary (like for speech - I am thinking we many have some articulation issues, which is common for kids with motor issues).

C doesn't currently receive OT in school, as she was only evaluated privately.  The wait was long for a county evaluation, and her issues seemed subtle enough that I was wary that she would ever qualify.  I taught in our county system for 8+ years before having my girls, and saw the challenges that teachers and parents faced in seeing just the right quirk, saying just the right thing, and writing it just the right way so that a student could receive therapeutic services.  The school systems look for that key "educational impact," and with SPD, it's sometimes difficult to pinpoint what that impact is.  They also see SPD most often associated with other diagnoses that are actually recognized by the DSM-IV, and we absolutely did not want to pursue another kind of diagnosis just to obtain services.  We are very fortunate that we can, at least for now, afford C's therapy, and didn't want to place upon her an inaccurate label that could follow her forever.

So, you ask, what's the big deal?  Her new school sounds great, and definitely produces some truly well-rounded children who matriculate to some of the best Catholic, private, and public magnet high schools in our area.  The vibe that we have gotten from the staff is that they are prepared to handle whatever comes their way.  We also have several friends whose children are also receiving private OT services and speech therapy who have assured us that our new school will be supportive.

But... I have had lots of people around me advise us to keep C's challenges on the down-low, at least for a little while.  Some of them have much older kids (who are now adults) who had to navigate the Catholic school system at a time when support for kids who didn't "fit the mold" was at a minimum, at best.  They struggled to get their children's most basic needs met, but believed a Catholic school education was something that ALL children deserved, so they fought for it.  My mom was one of those people, when I sustained my spinal-cord injury at 13 and the same school that C will be attending was nervous about letting me come back and fully participate because the school wasn't completely accessible (today, it is).

Other friends of ours have kids in our county system who felt like their kids' issues were something that could be addressed privately and wouldn't have a huge impact in the classroom, so they didn't feel the need to share that information with their schools.  And finally, I have colleagues who rightly believe that our county system is very equipped to support all students, so why would we take a chance on something that might not be the best fit for a kid like C, or go through the hassle of coordinating her Catholic school schedule with any county support she might eventually qualify for?  There's this voice inside me that says:

"I see their perspective.  I don't want C to be labeled from Day One.  I don't want them to think that they have her all figured out just based on what I tell them.  I want them to get to know her for themselves, and then act accordingly.  I want her to have access to all the resources she might need."  

It makes me want to keep quiet for a bit and see what comes of her first few weeks - just as we did last year.  After all, it worked then - why wouldn't it work now?

But then there's this other voice in my head - the one who is a teacher who hated when she knew there was a missing piece of the puzzle with a student, but wasn't given all the information from their family; a person with a very obvious physical disability that she cannot hide (not that she wants to); and a parent who has invested a great deal of energy over the past year trying to figure out her child and putting in place some accommodations that she relies on.  That voice is saying something very different:

"Tell them.  Let them know what a great kid she is, but that she may need a little extra help.  She's wiggly because she is trying to pay attention - not the opposite.  Help C get off on the right foot on the very first day by being equipped with all the tools she is learning to use."


If my child was nearsighted, would I send her to school without her glasses?  No.  If she needed crutches or a wheelchair to get around, would I drop her off at the front door and wish her the best of luck getting inside the building?  Of course not.  So why is this such a dilemma for me?

To add to our confusion, there is also the option of having C wait another year to start at her new school.  She is ready academically, her teachers say, and with continued OT support, she should do just fine.  But she is immature, she does occasionally struggle socially, and she has a late birthday.  Should we have her do Kindergarten at our public school for a year, and then transition her?  Do we send her to another pre-K program?  Do we just stick with our plan and figure it out as we go?  Ugh.

I don't know which voice to listen to, and am nervous I will make the wrong decision.  How do I advocate for my child when I am still trying to understand myself?  What should I do once we make our decision?  These are the questions that we are trying to answer over the next few weeks.  I just want to do the right thing...

An Update...

Our first day was a success!  C put on her belt right as she walked in the door and wore it throughout free play at the beginning of the day.  Her usual M.O. at this time is flitting from one activity to another, never really sticking with anything, having difficulty figuring out exactly how to join in her friends' play, and leaving a mess in her wake.  Today, she sat on the rug and quietly played with a circus set with one of her friends FOR TWENTY WHOLE MINUTES.  She stuck with it, engaged and happy.

C took her belt off when it was time to head outside, but when they came back in for circle time, she put it back on.  Usually, this thirty minutes or so is extremely challenging for her.  This is when the class listens to stories, has show and tell, learns new things, and reviews directions for the activity that follows the lesson.  She is wiggly and fidgety, and this can sometimes be distracting for her classmates and teachers.  She often chooses to get her fidget toy (which is only moderately successful for her these days), or sits in a rocking chair or bean bag chair alongside the group, in case she needs to move a bit.  Sitting still and quiet in the circle is usually just too much for her for that length of time.

Today, C sat WITH THE GROUP ON THE RUG.  She didn't need a rocking chair or fidget toy.  She was still a bit wiggly, but she sat.  Just like everyone else.  And when it came time to complete the activity for the lesson, she asked if she could go first and chose the most challenging option within the activity.  She completed the activity relatively independently, and stuck with it.

Her teachers seemed (cautiously) thrilled.  Could we have figured out another piece of the puzzle?  We don't know what tomorrow will bring.  But for today, we will celebrate this small success, and hope that it continues tomorrow.

Late this afternoon, one of my dear friends (who has twins in C's class and are her good friends), sent me a message.  At pick-up today, her son told her, "C wore a new PINK belt at school today so that she won't be so fidgety.  I guess God makes people different and perfect like C, right Mom?"  Up until that moment, I hadn't really pressed C to find out how she felt about having her belt at school.  I didn't want to make too big a deal out of it, just in case she was still trying to figure that out.  But when I told her what her friend told his mom, she got a big smile and said, "Really?  He liked it?"  It was the biggest gift that we could have received today - the gift of acceptance.