Is Classroom Integration for Students with Special-Needs Possible?

I’m asking myself this question this morning. Picture this:

It’s the first day of Kindergarten. Forty students report for duty. Two teachers, one student teacher and a classroom integration aide also report for duty. There are at least five special-needs students in the group (and that’s a conservative estimate). Can you guess what happened? Yup, chaos. Every child went into  the locker room confused, looking for their name tag which happened to be placed at about 6 feet off the floor.

Luckily I went in with my son. I wasn’t supposed to but nobody met us at the door so I knew I needed to go in, if only to  make sure that  he didn’t have a total meltdown. The integration aide was busy diffusing the tantrum of another boy, the student teacher looked like a deer in headlights so I took charge of my boys. I spoke kindly to a boy who was crying, I helped my twins change from their outdoor shoes into their indoor shoes, making sure they were beginning to understand the routine. I watched what was the worst Kindergarten entry I have ever seen unfold.

I met with the administration in advance, I spoke with resource staff yesterday, I made sure to stack the deck on the side of my twins but the school still thought it wise to have children with autism begin school sharing ONE integration aide. The school website indicates that there is an autism specialist on staff. Specialist??? really?

Any autism specialist worth their salt would know that first impressions are absolutely crucial for children on the spectrum. They have great memories and can remember feelings and emotions with even the simplest of recall cues. One bad experience and you may be in for months of anxiety. What a gamble the school took this morning. I was enraged!

The teachers were wonderful, the integration aide is so kind and so skilled at her job. I hope she doesn’t have a burnout before the year is done. It sure looks like the school is setting her up for one.

Finally one of the teachers gave me the “nod” which meant, get out of here… I got the point.

I don’t want to be one of those moms. I want to be able to leave my kids at the door like everyone else. I want to be able to be free of the worry that these people will lose my child. I can’t. It’s not in my nature to over-protect my kids. The scrapes and bruises on their legs from hard outdoor play can testify to that! However, in the case where the school, claiming to be inclusive and fully equipped to integrate special-needs children, fails miserable on the first day, I begin worrying and wondering. Wondering if true inclusion is possible. Wondering if these people teaching my child ever had to take a course in autism at all.  Why in the world would they stick the kid’s name tag so high up?. Why not have his picture already waiting at his cubby? Why assume he can find his cubby and place his bag and change his shoes without any prompting? There were no pictograms, no sequences on the wall. Nothing. Just noise and chaos. It’s not like they didn’t know there were going to be children with autism there. They knew! In fact, they knew months ago. Were they prepared? Not at all.

What’s maddening is that when the parents present themselves at the Kindergarten door to collect their kids this afternoon, the teachers will all say “oh, he had a great day”. Yeah, right! I know different. I SAW different within five minutes of the bell ringing. Poor trusting parents…

For now, this is an experiment. This is not Jumpy’s real kindergarten year since he’s being held back one year. I’ll keep you all posted. Can you keep us in your prayers?

Thanks!

 

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