A Meghan Update... her residential school progress

A Meghan update:

We saw her last week, as we do every week. And she looked great! She just has this content way about her; she’s comfortable with herself and her life. I’m so grateful. Not just for what the school and teachers do, and do for every child who is welcomed through their doors, but I’m so grateful that there was a solution for Meghan and we had finally found it. Albeit, a harder solution for us, her parents, but we can't be selfish—we didn’t have kids to be selfish and hold them back from thriving—we had kids to help them blossom and grow—and then send them off to find their own life. Even if it doesn’t sit too well for two parents who will love her more than anyone else in this world.

So, Meghan seems content and at peace, that’s what it seems to us. (Does she still need me?) An observation by two people who only see her once a week, but that's almost a better thing: two virtual outsiders (as strange as that sounds) can see through the glare and see what’s really there by not seeing her everyday.

It won’t be like this forever, she will start coming home every other weekend and hopefully it will be a success. I would hate to think that we could screw this up and wreck her progress or her continuity—and that she doesn’t mind commuting the 1.5 hour trip, each way, twice a month, which I think is a good schedule for all of us.

It’s definitely a step-by-step process and we take it one day at a time… and, demonstrably, that is just what we have to do.

One of her favorite thing to do at the (her) house is swinging on the tire swing; she swings high and wide. She also loves her schoolwork and does it for a free time activity, even; she is also using all of her communication books effectively and appropriately (she has two books jammed packed with nouns, verbs, and adjectives, and one communication output device).

She started her swimming classes, for those of you who are not familiar with her school, there is a huge Olympic style pool designed specifically with special needs kids in mind. She loves it. She swims twice a week. And the treadmill, too! Who would have thought that she loves the treadmill? She's on it every chance she can get at the schools gym and house. (She never liked it at home!!) Just more proof that she is coming into her own!

More and more that I think about it, this school is a luxury—one would gather that from its hefty price tag—and at this price—I would expect a hot tub, sauna, and cabana boy ;) but these girl are only 13, so luxury for them entails: an environment of several trained teachers at their disposal for help , guidance, and activities … it’s like having a bunch of moms (or big sisters) who are guaranteed to never get over-tired or frustrated and there’s always at least one mom who will like a particular activity at any given time. Some of the “moms” are good cooks; others like to shop; and some others are just plain playful—how ideal! Who needs just one mom, when you can have a house full of moms.

Aah, Reaping the Benefits of Good Communication ... Finally!

Ever notice that good, quality communication is lacking in almost everything we do and who we know: How many can raise their mouse and say they have the benefit of living and working with good communicators? Come on… no passive aggressive husbands, boyfriends, parents, siblings, bosses (Ugh, that’s worse!) to vent about? And lets not mention school districts and special education programs of various sorts … oh, won’t go there (that's another blog). But let’s face it, it’s everywhere … and it’s called dysfunction—and we all live with it and probably have trouble living without it; except:

Meghan’s school is right on the functional communication track—that’s right—I said functional!! And, thank God for that! Because I still feel like I’ve just dumped her off somewhere and said: Ha, this is hell now you raise her. “You” meaning a crew of people: Classroom teachers (and plenty of them) residential teachers, residential caregivers, nurses, doctors, specialists … you name it they’ve got it.

As Hilary Clinton once said: “It takes a village!” And I think she’s right!

Good, effective communication has got to be the hardest thing to achieve when there are so many people “in the village,” but it’s ideal at her school. At the beginning her direct one-on-one school and residential teacher (yes, two different people) would call me everyday to report in. And I would also call the residence too, just because I could! Then it slowed to once a week with a scheduled call from her residential teacher, who we’ve gotten to know very well (personally and professionally) from the calls and our weekly visits—she’s like a house mommy!

She tells me everything that happened during her week—information reported through computer and written documentation so that everyone knows how Meghan did /and is doing on any given day, while also monitoring her progress. I’m never without info …

I’ll even get a call from the lead nurse if Meghan is having a nurse’s visit (routine or unscheduled); a dentist appointment; the eye doctor; the sniffles … they’ll call just to report in and then call again to let me know how it went and how she did (like the dentist’s visit) and without missing a beat.

And as of late, Meghan has advanced to a communication device and is constructing sentences using it--a skill she could not do so easily at her other school and home ... a benefit to her speech and language specialist and classroom teachers, no doubt. Can't wait to meet her OT specialist and adaptive PE teacher ... they'll have her swimming laps like Michael Phelps in no time!! ;)

Again, it takes an effort from everyone--together--to help a (autistic) child succeed! And good communication is the heart of this effort. But this school has got a system that makes it all seem so easy!

Now that’s refreshing! The dysfunctional family that’s isn't!

Life at School/Life at Home

We all visited Meghan again (her grandma and grandpa came along too) and she seemed happy and looked good. But I’m still trying to get used to having a child out of the house—and at the tender age of 13. It all still seems surreal to me, especially when I visit her at her house and observe her in this new environment looking comfortable—like it’s home—home away from home, that is.

I pass her room at home, walking from my room and passing her dark, quiet room; quiet without her bouncing around, slamming doors, running down the hall and jumping on everyone’s bed—a presence, for sure—of extreme proportions. Now it is so quiet, Nick really isn’t that “wild-like” running through the house. I can actually read in my bed, watch television and know that I can actually sit through and finish a movie…but surely a lost presence and a dark, spiritless, yellow and pink bedroom is what remains—I pass through and try not to linger too long and "feel" too much.

Do I still think that residential school was the right decision for Meghan? Sure I do; she is on a stricter schedule and diet, she is getting proper exercise, she is doing well at school, and she is starting to socialize more and gain more independence--and with so many more teachers on-hand—she is far more cooperative and manageable. This is good for her, frankly! The teacher’s have always said that it’s a tougher transition for the parents than it is for the student (child)—I hope that’s really true and remains true (I think it is), because let’s face it, I’ve exhausted all other options: tried four different programs, had in-home care and help—but all have not worked. Residential school seems to be working and I’m crossing my fingers, everyday.

We are at peace because we know that we’ve selected the right school for her. If we had to have her go to residential school, then it was going to be the best school in the state—no exceptions—and we held out and waited until she got in—and in the nick of time too, because 14 is the cut off age!

And so the residential saga shall continue…. I think I’ll go eat a pint of Super Fudge Brownie Chunk and watch a movie—just because I can!