xmlns:og='http://ogp.me/ns#' Yeah. Good Times.: The Dive Bar Welcomes: Kelly

Saturday, April 28, 2012

The Dive Bar Welcomes: Kelly

Today we have Kelly. Just Kelly. Her name is Kelly. Do you need any more information than that? No. I don't think you do. Oh, also? I heart Kelly.

Putting Up With The Professionals

Having a child with any special needs is challenging. We know this - oh, how we know this! Personally, we deal with self-injurious behaviors and aggression, no potty training technique in the world is working for Ted so my day involves literally a lot of shit. We deal with sensory issues, OT, PT, Speech issues. We go to a special school. We have psychiatry appointments, developmental pediatric appointments, blood draws, pharmacy waits (two hours is not unheard of at a military treatment facility). We deal with a lot. A LOT. But what kills me is when we have so-called professionals who are not. In. Any. Way. Professional.

We've been at the new duty station for only 10 months. We are on our third school for Ted.

The First was a private Autism school. They transported Ted to and from his "field trips" in the teachers' own POVs. The "field trips" were to the Chik-fil-a playground. No shit. They went there several times a week. Very educational, I'm sure. And I'm also pretty fucking sure the teacher's dig on some spicey chicken sandwiches and waffle fries.

The Second school was the public school's Early Childhood Special Education setting in a "reverse mainstream" class. Half neuro-typicals, half neuro-atypicals. The teacher moved Ted while he was in the middle of a meltdown. Inappropriately carried him and left his spinal column bruised.

The Third school, and the one he currently attends, is a co-op. It is a private autism school run in conjunction with the public schools. Basically, the kids with autism are contained. I'm sure you all know what I am talking about. They have their own teachers, their own bathrooms, their own problems. Lemme tell you about the fucking problems:

I picked Ted up yesterday from school and the first thing the TA asks is whether or not Ted had his meds that morning. Never, ever a good way to start a conversation. Yes, I replied, he had. He always has his medications. I have NEVER missed a dose. I'm pretty neurotic about this. For really good reasons - I'm not a fan of fucking around with this class of drugs. His little psyche has already enough going on. I don't need to add to it with forgetfulness in dosing the magic pills that keep him from throwing furniture down the stairs. Anyway, the TA said Ted had an amazingly shitty day. That he screamed a lot (classic Ted) and that he stripped several times. Yup. My son is a stripper. I've told them about it. They never listen, because, well, I'm just a parent. I must be doing something wrong. THEY are educated PRO-FUCKING-FESSIONALS and THEY know him.


So, that was all the detail I got. Later that night, as I stripped him for a shower, I noticed marker all over his feet. What the fuck? That means he had to have his shoes and socks off while he was coloring with markers. Who was watching him, or rather, who the fuck wasn't watching him. This isn't the first time he has come home markered up. One day, he had it all over his stomach and in his belly button - PERMANENT marker. He still has a red belly button. He has come home with the markers all up his arms and on his thighs. THIGHS. Meaning, what? That he was coloring with his pants down? What kind of fuckery is THIS? Oh, and then his teacher drew a mother fucking car on his arm with markers one day. I'm not entirely sure what the fuck THAT was all about.

I went in this morning upset. Yeah, it seems like a little thing to be mad about, but isn't the whole point of teaching a kid to TEACH the kid what is appropriate? And coloring with your fucking pants down is not appropriate. At least not in this house.

What happened this morning, though, makes the marker incidents pale in comparison.

The head teacher - remember that, she was the HEAD TEACHER - told me that they don't like to put him on the potty because it is a big deal for them. Ted screams, protests, falls the floor and generally acts like a kid with autism when it is potty time. But, hey, yesterday, they put him on the toilet. Ted asked her to close the door. And she did, because, "If a child can ask for privacy, they deserve to have it." (BWAHAHAHA - isn't that funny!) She told me that she checked on him and found him with his pants DRIPPING wet and Ted trying to wring them out. It seems that in his private moment, Ted decided to throw his pants INTO THE MOTHER FUCKING TOILET. What did the teacher do, you ask? Did she have him change into one of the many spare outfits I have provided for incidents such as these? Well, yes...but only until the toilet water dried off of his pants. THEN. SHE. PUT. THE. FUCKING. PANTS. BACK. ON. HIM. Without washing them. Ted wore toilet pants for the rest of the day.

He wore them in my car, in my house, all over my furniture and carpet. He had fucking ENTERIC bacteria all over his skin. And now, other kids' E. Coli is colonizing my entire house. My undergrad is in microbiology. My undergrad thesis (yeah, in micro, you to a thesis to graduate with a bachelor's) is ON enteric bacteria (gut bacteria - E. Coli, Klebsiella, C. Difficile - you know, the literal shit that makes people really fucking sick? THAT stuff.

The teacher REASSURED me that the toilet was clean.

As a MOM, former scientist, and human being with common sense, I can promise you - PROMISE YOU - that the only clean toilet is one that is still in its packaging. There is no clean toilet. That's pretty much why we don't eat out of one.

I am pretty much at a loss. I have no idea how to explain the fucking nastiness of what she did. Her lack of common sense is truly appalling and not a little frightening. Jesus Effing Christ. What do I have to do to get Ted an education in a safe environment?

The other pisser is that would she have done that? If her sweater sleeve had fallen into the toilet, would she wear it for the rest of the day? No. She would do what we all would do: scream and burn the sweater because it had fallen into a public toilet. She would not wear someone else's ass bacteria all day and literally rub other peoples' asses all over her furniture. Is it because she sees Ted as "less"? Is he less worthy of common cleanliness and respect because he has autism, or is she just a stupid fucking bitch? Either one is unacceptable.