I have always been vocal about Kirsty and Logan's school and how great they are but that was easy to say because Kirsty never gave them any trouble. She toddles into school every day with a smile and thoroughly enjoys it. Back in her first year at early intervention we had a few hairy days at the start but overall school has always been a happy experience for her.
This year that same early intervention class met Logan. Logan, the sweetest, most affectionate little boy I know, entered their classroom and I was a wreck. Because I know.
I know how long it takes him to settle into a new place.
I know how hard it is to bring him back from a meltdown, how impossible it is to stop the screaming once he gets to that place.
I know the sheer volume of his cry, the pierce of his scream and how it can set other kids off, whose crying in turn then makes him worse.
I know the exasperation he feels when he can't communicate what he needs and the frustration that comes with it.
That frustration turns to biting, pinching, hair pulling and kicking.
I can live with all that because I'm his mom. It's my reason for being here. It's my job. Not the one I necessarily wanted or planned for, but I have it nonetheless.
But what about the people who do it voluntarily? Who get up every day and face all of the above for a child that isn't theirs? Never knowing what the day will bring, if they'll be attacked or abused? How do they do it? I have always wondered, why would anybody voluntarily pick this job?
And I think I know why.
Because today might be the day.
The day they'll break through and finally watch a child use the toilet on their own,
Today, after months of trying, they might get a 6 year old to put down their baby bottle and pick up a cup and sip.
Today is the day they'll ring a parent after the school quietens down and say " he picked up the PECS card on his own ".
Of course they have to deliver the bad news too. When Logan's teacher calls me to say "he bit one of us today" I feel more sorry for her than me. No one wants to make that call. Tuesday's one got to me and I was in tears. I asked her about their policy and what happens if it continues. I was bracing myself to hear he might have to leave and find somewhere more suitable.
And she simply said " That wouldn't happen, we will find what's right for him. That's our job "
That isn't a job. It's a calling. It's some sort of gift that appears in people and just makes them incredible.
If you're an SNA, a teacher involved in special education, a bus or taxi escort, a respite worker or anyway involved in the life of kids like mine, you are helping in ways you'll never understand. Thank you for choosing this job.
I salute these people today. I thank them. They don't problem solve. They understand and they value.
We need so many more of them. 💙💙💙
