I had about five conversations about my son yesterday with various people who have been working with him. I cried very early on in all of them.
I really fucking hate crying. Hate it. Makes my voice all squeaky. But giving anyone an update makes me cry because I'm just that worn down.
OK. But the good news is that after talking to the Sup and the Director of Special Ed, they are going to go pull some strings with county public health services to get a doctor to write a prescription for this kid. (Wanna hear the latest hurdle? Before Public Health can write a script, the child is supposed to have been in therapy with a school psychologist for Six Months. Watch Suisan start racing around the room screaming.) They're going to try to knock down that latest hurdle by saying that he's been in private therapy that long and The School now faces a crisis situation by virtue of the fact that he's not meeting his IEP goals and is acting out on the playground.
Also, the school psychologist (who's something of a gossip. Damn.) is going to simultaneously talk to the Kaiser case manager and the Kaiser psychiatrist to get them off their butts. I have an appointment tomorrow at Kaiser psychiatry.
When I first spoke to school psychologist she told me that Director of Special Ed was looking to place my son in a County special ed class about two hours away. My heart sank. This class is set aside for seriously disturbed or traumatized kids--the violent ones too. Oh great. THAT's what my son needs.
So when I spoke to Dir of Special Ed later in the day, I brought up the County classroom and asked, "Is that the next step for him?"
"Oh, No! I would never send him there. No. That's not for your son. He's sweet." She went on to say that she had been looking for an alternative placement for him, but that programs which concentrated on the bright children were not interested in kids with behavior problems, and that programs for anxiety-prone kids, at least in our county, were not going to meet his needs academically. Sort of what I found when I was looking for straight private school. Then she said, with her cute lisp, "What we need is a Sweet Anxious program. Just sweet. Calm, you know. Not a DRAMA Anxious program. No drama for your son. Sweet kid."
She's widening her search geographically. Which could mean a lo-o-o-ong bus ride if he gets a placement, but if it works, then who am I to argue?
Personally, I'm still feeling like shit, but logically, it's good to see so many people pulling together to help me out through this.
You hear funny stories when you're meeting with the Director of Special Ed and the Superintendent. Apparently there's a mother in the District who's an expert at diagnosing her child off the internet. She has written a letter requesting that no one on staff touch her child (for what reason I'm unclear). BUT, she has also determined that he had a seizure while at home one afternoon. No one has any proof that a) it happened or b) it was a seizure, as she did not call 911 nor did she take the child to the doctor after the seizure was done.
So she goes on the internet, diagnoses seizure, and then to her health food store where she picks up some concoction in a suppository format. Drops the child off at school with instructions that if he seizes that the staff is to administer the suppository.
Ummm. Without touching him? The child's a first grader.
The Director of Special Ed starts the pantomime. She crouches down and puts her arms out to the side as if she's trying to herd cats. "OK, Johnny. Now pull your pants down. STOP SEIZING! That's right, pull them down. Now your undies. STOP SEIZING! Now bend over." She puts her hands on her knees, drops her chin to her chest and starts giggling at this point, "Oh no. We're not going to get into any trouble at all doing this. What is the mother THINKING?"
The Superintendent says, "Well, since we're not sure that he actually seized, can we just stick these chamomile things up her butt? Maybe it will calm her down."
They made me laugh. (OK. At someone else's expense, but hey.) And that's always a good thing.