The following is the text of a talk I gave as part of a panel of special needs parents to preschool educators:
Hi. Thank you for having me. I have three children. Jackson (who is 11), Noah (who is 8) and Lily (who’s 5). My oldest son, Jack as we call him, suffered a birth injury which resulted in significant cognitive deficits, some weak gross and fine motor skills and some social and behavioral issues as well, so when it comes to special needs, we pretty much run the gamut.
When Jack started at a private Jewish preschool at the age of two, the extent of his disability wasn’t really known. Because of the circumstances which surrounded his birth, however, we knew delays and issues were likely, so Jack started physical and occupational therapy when he was just two weeks old. He reached some of his milestones right on time (for example he smiled by 7 weeks and walked by 15 months), but other milestones were quite delayed (on his second birthday, he really only had one word in his vocabulary, on his third birthday he only had about 50). By the time Jack was four, the gap between him and his peers had widened and the extent of his disability was becoming much clearer. We moved him to the public school for his last year of preschool. For kindergarten, we started him in a private school which serviced children on the spectrum and with other developmental delays. We moved him to our local public school for the 3rd grade and that is where he’s remained. He currently is in the 5th grade in a self-contained special education classroom. He pushes into the general education population for specials like music and art and PE and he has lunch with his general ed class.
As Jack is now 11, I have encountered a large number of teachers, speech therapists, tutors, physical therapists, occupational therapists and play therapists. I feel like I have been incredibly blessed and have worked with some of the most amazing people on the planet—on the other hand, I also feel like I have been exposed to some . . . well, let’s just say . . . some really well intentioned people who have said or done something that was really the wrong thing to say or do.
Thank you so much for allowing me this opportunity to share with you some of the things I believe help (the Do’s if you will) and things that hurt (the don’ts). Most of what I have to say is from my own experience but I have thrown in a few I have learned just from being a member of the special needs community for good measure:
First, please DO realize that as preschool educators you may be alerting parents to a problem they didn’t know existed or one they knew about but had no understanding of its significance or severity. So when you speak to a parent about a concern you have about their child, please realize their reactions may be strong. They may be in denial. They may feel surprised. They may be defensive. A lot of times, parents will try to explain away concerning behaviors—the child doesn’t engage socially (well they’re independent); the child doesn’t attend or focus (well they’re high energy); the child has no core strength (well, our family isn’t particularly athletic). It always makes a parent sad and scared to hear that their child is struggling, special needs parent or not. So to ease their reaction, DO try to bring them into the conversation. “I have noticed that Johnny spends a lot of time lining up his cars–have you noticed Johnny do this at home?” “I’ve notice Susie has trouble transitioning between activities at school–how does she do with transitions at home?” Also—it helps tremendously to have a game plan and resources available. So, for example, if there a speech delay (have the names of a speech therapist available if your school doesn’t have one on staff). If you think fine motor skills are lacking, have the name of an occupational therapist handy. If you have a child with a lot of energy and a potential focus issue, have a plan on how you can deal with that (for example taking frequent body movement breaks)?
Second. DO NOT, if these words are even in your vocabulary, ever use the words “retarded” or “mentally retarded;” During Jack’s preschool years and when we were exploring private schools we had to subject him to all sorts of testing. We took him to a very well known and well respected but rather old-fashioned neuropsychologist. When my husband and I went to discuss the results of his testing, we were met with disappointing results. The results, though, are not really what I remember about the meeting. What I do remember is that one of the two professionals in the room must have said the words “mentally retarded” at least five times. Every single time the words came out of her mouth, I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach—every single time it was as if the breath was drawn from my body. Even while I was trying to understand test results and process information, all I could hear or see before me was the word “retarded.” The same occurred when I attended Jack’s IEP meeting prior to his starting kindergarten. I was told that at a certain point he would age out of the more general “developmental delay” category and we would have to choose a disability category for him—one of which was mental retardation. Again—stomach punch. If you were to google the definition of mental retardation—you would find that it refers to an individual with an IQ below 70 who also has a lack of skills necessary for daily living. But the word in today’s society is so much more than an IQ score. It has become so stigmatized, it has become slang for a stupid person. It is hurled as an insult by children on playgrounds. When it is directed at a person, it diminishes that person’s worth. Please just don’t ever use it. Fairfax County, where Jack attends school, now uses the category “intellectual disability” instead of “mental retardation.” I’m okay with that. I’m okay with “cognitive deficits.” Intellectually challenged. Okay with that too. Severe cognitive delays—doesn’t bother me. Please just not the word retarded. Jack is not stupid. Jack may never read beyond a third grade level or do advanced math. But Jack is one of the most perceptive people I have ever known. He also can tell you the number and position of every single Washington National and the lineup of the majority of National League teams. And he’s pretty darn good with hockey and basketball too. He is not “retarded” no matter what his IQ scores might suggest. It may seem like a matter of semantics. But it’s not. For parents like me, it’s not.
Third, please DO NOT attribute a child’s difficult behaviors to a character flaw. When Jack was three I took him to his speech therapy session. His therapist came out after his 45 minutes were up and said, Jack had been just horrible. She told me she had “never seen behavior” like Jack’s and that she had called in another therapist to observe him. Apparently Jack’s crime was hiding under the table when he had tired of the speech therapy session. But the therapist persisted in voicing her displeasure and suggested perhaps I should get my second son (who at the time was 11 months old) into therapy as obviously Jack was “out of control.” I left in tears. I was obviously raising a monster—one who was the WORST this therapist had ever seen (incidentally—the therapist must have been all of 25 years old—so even if Jack was the WORST she had ever seen, she was only 25—but I say that now, only with hindsight and a few more years of mom experience under my belt). Another preschool speech therapist (this one a county employee) repeatedly told Jack he was a bad boy when he would attempt to flee the room during speech therapy sessions. (He was 4 years old). The thing to remember is this: No child with a disability WANTS to be difficult. No child wants to struggle to make friends. No child wants to be disruptive. No child wants to be unable to sit still. No child wants to be so anxious that their skin crawls. These are not character flaws. This is the way these children are created. The way they are wired. Jack wasn’t trying to be a jerk when he was hiding under the table or tried to escape the classroom. He was confused about what he was being asked to do. So he hid. Flight or fight. I read something once that said “the children who need the most love and attention, often ask for it in the most unlovable ways.” Please do keep that in mind. Also– never underestimate the value of a five minute break. Both for you and for the child.
On a related note, please DO NOT allude to or hint at giving up on my child when my child is being difficult. I look at Jack’s teachers and therapists as my team members in helping Jack learn. It is so disheartening to hear “I don’t know if I can help.” DO ask me, though, for advice and strategies that have worked at home. Be my partner. I once had a teacher say to me “well nothing that usually works has worked with Jack.” I responded, “well then, if nothing that usually works has worked, then it’s time to try something new.” I tend to believe that there is almost always a solution—it may be hard to find. But it’s easier to find if we work together.
Finally, please DO understand that it is often scary and isolating to have a child that doesn’t fit in. DO encourage the parents of children with extra needs to find each other. I gave a talk about a year ago about my experience being the mother of a special needs child. One of the issues I discussed was the feeling of isolation that often comes with being the parents of a special needs child. My beautiful, warm and caring extended family, all of whom love Jack, cannot truly understand what it is like to parent him—they don’t understand what it is to worry about your child’s future constantly or what it is to feel like you have to live forever because your son will always need some level of care and you fear no one will provide it if you aren’t there. They don’t fully understand the impact a special needs child has on his siblings or how truly devastating it is to have a child that hasn’t been invited on a playdate or to a birthday party of a neurotypical classmate since he was in preschool. Of course, I realize because of privacy laws you can’t just start sharing names of other special needs parents, but one of the things that the director of my son’s preschool did that was amazing was to be supportive in the formation of a group for parents of children who receive extra services. Find someone who you think might be a good leader and ask him or her to start a group. Allow them to publicize the group in the school newsletter or talk about it at back to school night. As I mentioned, Jack is 11 years old, but I still meet with the moms from the group founded at his preschool. We meet the first Wednesday or Thursday of every month for a glass of wine, a sharing of stories and resources, a cry if one of us needs it, a laugh when it’s appropriate (sometimes when it’s not)—in fact I am actually hosting the annual Hanukkah gift exchange at my house tonight. These women have been there for me through the hard times. They have celebrated milestones with me—big and small. They have allowed me to maintain my sanity when it was dangerously close to slipping away. They just get it.
I’ll close with one final thought: The other night, my five year old asked my husband to read her a story. Jack stepped in and said he’d read to her. And then he did. Missing only one or two words, he read his little sister a story about a mouse named Maisy and a snow storm. When Jack was born, doctors told me he likely wouldn’t be able to ever walk or talk or feed himself. Now he’s reading, slowly but surely he’s learning how to read. He is able to do this because of his teachers—people like you. I understand that with kids like mine, the job may be harder-but I promise you, the success is sweeter. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for the work you do!