Inclusion School Mixer Impressions

She put her hand gently on my daughter’s head while looking at the play structure at Diamond Park. Smiling, she turned to me and said, “It will be fun!”

Two months ago, my husband and I attended my daughter’s IEP meeting with a team of 5 folks from the school district. “It will be hard,” they all chimed. “The demands for writing will be much more in 1^st grade. She will get the support she needs in a special day class,” said her teacher.

The general education class at my daughter’s school has 30 students and 1 teacher. The school and the rest of the district rely on scripted curriculum for teaching reading, writing, and math. And for students like my sweet pea, the scripted curriculum is hard to differentiate based on her fine-motor abilities. Combine the uninspiring inaccessible curriculum and the overcrowded general education classrooms, I’m reluctant to let her venture into the world of “mainstreaming” for fear she would get looked over, misunderstood, and eventually, forgotten.

“Is she able to complete her lessons,” I ask?

“Yes, with additional time” they say.

“Is she able to access the curriculum cognitively,” I ask?

“Yes,” they say again.

“How much time of the day are you spending on adapting the curriculum to address her fine motor delay?”

“In the beginning of the year, about 30 minutes of the day was spent on adapting the curriculum by laminating worksheets and other techniques to address her fine motor delays,” says her teacher. “Now, the aid probably spends a minute or less adapting the lesson. She uses a highlighter and sweet pea traces,” says her teacher.

“And a general education teacher can’t take a minute or less to do the same thing,” I ask?

The team looks at each other and then my daughter’s teacher says with a grimace on her face, “no, not with 30 students in a class.”

My daughter is thriving in her special day class. She gets the support she needs, she loves her teacher, aid, and classmates, but…I’m wondering if the reason she is in a restrictive environment is because the general education classroom can only accommodate the average student. Students who are developmentally advanced in certain skills are not challenged by the scripted curriculum and those with delays like my sweet pea are left behind. It seems unfair that sweet pea is being kept away from her typically developing peers out of fear of being left behind. She's independent, opinionated, loves to sing and has made HUGE progress in kindergarten - why can't the system work with my daughter instead of my daughter having to conform to the system?

“It will be hard for her. The expectations of 1^st graders and 2^nd graders are ambitious, even for general education students. We can mainstream sweet pea for non core academics but keep her in our class for the math, reading and writing,” the team advises.

I ask the team a few “what if” questions and I’m unsatisfied by their answers. Surely, school for a 6 year old should be fun, right? Where is the fun? Does she smile at school? Have they heard her laugh? Where is the joy of learning?

Sweet Pea is completely independent at home, playing so sweetly with her little sister and curious about everything. I’m unconvinced that our local school district and their perception of educating children with special needs will ever celebrate the joy of learning. Instead, despite how much I love her current teacher, I believe that the district programs are designed to squash the joy of learning working in direct conflict of sweet pea and her talented and loving teacher.

Present Day

On Saturday, sweet pea and I attended a party in the park so we could meet new families that will be sending their 5, 6, and 7 year olds to a new charter school in our city. This new charter school is committed to inclusion – where children with special needs and typical learn and play together in the same classroom. I’ve already talked to the service provider that will provide speech and language and occupational therapy in addition to adaptive PE and assistive tech consultation at the new charter school. Will the services be exactly the same? Probably not. But will sweet pea get the support she needs to develop and find the joy in learning? I hope so. I REALLY hope so.

I introduced myself to the new principal of the charter school and pointed to my daughter across the picnic ground. “That’s my sweet pea. She’s currently in a non-severe special day class. I wanted to introduce myself and let you know that if you do any training about teaching kids with special needs – I hope you’ll consider including me. I’d love to learn and participate.”

“I’m so glad you introduced yourself! Thank you for coming. What’s your daughter’s name? I want to meet her,” said the principal.

My heart stops. Really, you want to meet her now? I flashback to when I interviewed babysitters when sweet pea was 6 weeks old. She had a NG feeding tube and was hooked up to a scary apnea monitor. I interviewed 5 babysitters, not one of them asked to meet sweet pea until…the 6^th babysitter showed up. Right off the bat she asked to see sweet pea and then she asked to HOLD her. Amazing.

Could this new principal be like our superstar babysitter? “OK,” I tell her tentatively.

We walk over together to where sweet pea is drawing a picture on a sunny yellow piece of card stock. “Sweet Pea, this is Ms. Principal. Ms. Principal, this is sweet pea.” The principal says hi and asks to see her drawing. The two chat quickly and then the principal says her goodbye. But before she goes, she places her hand gently on my daughter’s head while looking at the play structure at Diamond Park. Smiling, she turned to me and said, “It will be fun!”

Hope Blooms Here