Behold, a Miss Britt Production:
I come in at the 4:00 minute mark with some awesome chicks. Also, the last scene is in the last few moments before my handbag got mysteriously waterlogged, thus ruining all of our electronics. I think Britt’s camera was a casualty. I know mine was.
*sob*
For Spiff, this is the last year of Middle School. We have just finished the first nine weeks, and I am already thinking of next year; his Freshman year of High School.
The last four years before his services dwindle to nothing. The time where he will be on his own.
It scares the shit out of me. It keeps me awake at night. It makes me spend the morning of my day off from work running back and forth from school to school trying to get answers to an issue I had thought should have been a non-issue. Something that we (my son and I) did to help him, to make his High School experience easier. Something that gave us hope.
Something that the school might not accept so that he has to go to the locker room anyway.
This summer, Spiff took an online class for Physical Education. It is through a program that the public schools recognize, and that students in public schools can use to “get a leg up” in their academic careers. We chose to do this for one reason and one reason only:
Spiff has no business being in a high-school gym locker room. And not for the reason you think.
Yeah, I’m sure the bullying factor is what you are thinking. And yes, I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a small part of my reasoning. But that is what it is, a small part. There is an even bigger part that scares me even more. It’s the part that a locker room is nothing but an unstructured transition, complete with loud noises and banging of locker doors. And the yelling! Oy, it’s enough to make me wince, and I do not have the same sound sensitivities as my son.
It’s a meltdown waiting to happen, on a daily basis. Those of you with autistic children know what I mean. Those of you who don’t; my son is the child you see in public who covers his ears in the movie theater. He’s the one that looks at fire alarms and your hand near it, hoping you don’t accidentally set it off. Loud noises stress him out. His reactions stress me out.
Not to mention, a locker room requires you to self-regulate. It requires you to, on your own, undress, put your school clothes away, lock your locker, go to class, come back, undress, clean yourself up, get dressed, lock your locker, remember your books, head to your next class.
My son can’t handle all of that in the time allotted. Not with all that noise going on. Not unless I’m standing over him like I do, each morning, making sure all that and more gets done before we head out the door each morning. It’s not possible for me to go to his gym class every day. So what’s a momma to do?
Find other ways for him to fit in. Find other ways for him to succeed. This is one of them.
My county is hopefully going to work with us. They have been AMAZING the past few years, and we have been blessed with people who genuinely care about my son and his future. People who worked with him years ago still stop me in the halls and inquire about how he is doing now; how proud of him they are. He’s a standard bearer for other mainstreamed autistic students in our county.
He’s got 4 and a half more years. Let’s hope they are successful ones.
This photograph for me reminds me of when I was 19 years old, married and living in Springfield, Massachusetts in the old Smith and Wesson warehouse they had converted into apartments. I used to turn out all the lights in the apartment (it was a studio) and watch the traffic flow that headed right down the street towards my apartment before it turned right and away from my building. It was magical for me to live there, and I cried a little when my wasband got stationed in Groton, Connecticut. It worked out for me in ways I could not have imagined, because moving to Groton allowed me to meet The Hubby, and that was worth it.
I love seeing the city like this. I think it could be because I am petite and this vantage point is something I don’t get to see much of in my real life (yes, Kelly, I’m looking at you, you tall beautiful creature you!). It could also be because from this viewpoint even in a still shot you get the sense of motion; that the city is moving and you feel the life of the city and it will continue to be moving around you.
I love this photo.
I’m so glad I got to share this with Belinda. I’ll be your roomie at any convention; anytime. Just say the word and I’m there.
Overheard today in a Kindergarten classroom:
Teacher: “Don’t lick your hands when you have soap on them; please put your hands under the water and wash the soap off.”
Child: “Yeah, if you lick soap off your hands you will throw up. Then you could die.”
Truer words were never spoken.
Except the part about the dying. Cafeteria food will make you die, not soap. 
(kidding)
