When Rain Hurts by Mary Evelyn Greene

September 13, 2010

September 13, 2010


Poet's Walk (September 2010)

September 13, 2010.  These last few nights have been wide-open window nights, a sure sign that autumn lurks around the corner.  I lay awake, unable to sleep, my thoughts racing in seeming synchronicity to the breeze that tickles my hair as it gently spirals through the room from the window over our bed, an uninvited but welcome companion.  Rest eludes me, this time, because the head of special education is saber rattling, and in a not so subtle way.  Because we don’t expect a ruling on our due process hearing before September 30, our son’s psychiatrist, who is well known and respected in the community, wrote a letter to the district requesting homebound services until the hearing process was resolved.  She agreed to this course of action, in part, based upon Dr. Federici’s recommendation.  Under New York education law, the district is required to provide such services upon written request of a child’s physician.  But the head of special education is balking, trying to scare us with poorly disguised threats and vague, sinister language that conjures up images of truant officers and Child Protection Services.  He’s gone so far as to say that the fact that we are in the D.C. area today and tomorrow does not constitute “legal excuse for [our] children’s absence”.  The fact that he’s targeted both kids with this pronouncement, and not just Peter, isn’t lost upon us.  Even our son’s hospital stay, scheduled for next week, remains legally unexcused, whatever that means, in the official eyes of the school district.  Peter’s recovered substantially from the disaster of last year, physically, emotionally and psychologically, and we have no intention of compromising his health and welfare by putting him in harm’s way again.   The double whammy of psychological abuse delivered at the hands of “educators” intent on turning him against us, coupled with the emotional damage and physical stress of having to sit through day after day of a curriculum that for Peter might as well have been delivered in Swahili, caused his brain literally to deteriorate.  Now that we know what really occurred last year, its no wonder he came home raging every day and began suffering from visual and auditory hallucination.  Peter’s mind is fragile yet as these past few months have proven, its also incredibly resilient.  Our son is healing, he’s coming back to us, and until this sordid affair is settled, home is not only where the heart is, its where safety resides as well.  So if the school thinks a nasty-gram or two can scare us into submission, they’re sorely mistaken.  Our child’s life is at stake.  Safeguarding who Peter’s able to become – his soul, his happiness, his very potential, is our sacred obligation.  It’s an obligation from which we’ll not run and for which intimidation tactics are destined to fail.  I take a phone call during a break today from a new friend who lives in Minnesota.  She too is an adoptive mother of Russian born children and knows a thing or two about loss, love and primal struggle.  We have so much in common, it seems, but mostly we share an eerily similar tale of family dynamics.  We’re able to speak for 20 minutes about a number of issues and the very sound of her voice releases some of the festering tension within me.  We talk about how the Peter’s of the world, and their parents, have no organized voice, certainly no lobby power, and therefore little means to convince the decision-makers in their children’s lives – be they social workers, educators, physicians, mental health providers or clergy, of the extent of impairment.  Because there are no established or widely accepted treatment protocols for post-institutionalized, alcohol-exposed children, those in a position to render decisions affecting our children’s future tend to take one of three courses.  They treat our kids like throwaways, the most catastrophic approach, they apply a one-size-fits-all mentality, which is dangerously simplistic, or they borrow from other models like those developed for autism.  Using autism protocols to treat our kids, however, especially those with normal or above-average IQs, makes about as much sense as forcing a husky-sized child into slim-fitting jeans.  Such a decision only makes sense in the absence of other options.  As my friend and I hastily say our goodbyes, I hang the phone up thinking about this predicament, how our lack of voice as a community, and our society’s lukewarm interest in our children’s welfare, is largely responsible for the grief and trouble our families have endured.  I want to break this cycle of tragedy, suspicion and misunderstanding, both in ways large and small.  I want to help find a way to form a voice, a united voice, that advocates not only for our children but for parents scattered across the country, well-meaning people who either suffer in silence or bear the unmistakable brand of righteous battles fought and lost.  There’s something terribly wrong when its not safe for a 9 year old boy to attend school, when lines in the sand are drawn not only from ignorance and indifference but because there’s no clear solution – no path toward recovery, that ordinary, every day people can follow.   I know a little about how those “refrigerator mothers” of the 50s and 60s must have felt as they tried to raise their autistic children in the midst of constant misunderstanding, accusation and lack of science.  Fifty years later I’m still outraged on their behalf.  They were unwilling pioneers (and victims) in a field not yet born.  I wonder if 50 years from now the plight of mothers raising post-institutionalized, alcohol-exposed children will have gone through a similar renaissance.  Better yet, maybe us modern “refrigerator parents” can band together with courage and unity of purpose to eradicate the problem, along with the accompanying stigma, once and for all in our lifetimes.  Now wouldn’t that be something?

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6 Comments »

  1. Here in Iraq we deal with moments that call for bravery, singular events that may happen days, weeks or months apart, but your lives are filled with a daily bravery and commitment that most Soldiers would not understand. My thoughts go out to you.

    Brad

    Comment by Bradley St Paul — September 13, 2010 @ 4:10 pm | Reply

    • Thank you so much, Brad. Please know how much my family appreciates your dedication and service, as well as that of all the other young men and women who stand beside you. I am shocked that you would compare our little struggle with your own, but am humbled and gratified all the same. Stay safe, fair and just in your duty. With great admiration – Mary

      Comment by whenrainhurts — September 13, 2010 @ 4:15 pm | Reply

  2. I can’t believe you are still receiving veiled threats from them. What has the superintendent said? And since when is a medical reason and unexcused absence. Me thinks they are crossing into some legal issues. Are there laws about creating a hostile learning environment?

    Comment by Janet — September 13, 2010 @ 10:02 pm | Reply

    • yes – its part of our due process complaint – hostile environment, tho the hearing officer didn’t seem much interested in hearing it. ugh!

      Comment by whenrainhurts — September 22, 2010 @ 4:53 pm | Reply

  3. Mary,
    I know as sure as I’m alive you were ordained to fight this fight. Know that you do not fight it alone. There are many of us out here in California who are praying for your strength and endurance, your faith and tenacity….
    You are on the right track to setting precedence. Stand strong.
    Prayers and admiration
    Kim

    Comment by Kimberly — September 14, 2010 @ 11:34 am | Reply

  4. Daily Magazines
    I am full of admiration and positive feelings. Very nice, clean and pleasant. All the best for the author.

    Comment by TheoGretzinger — June 4, 2011 @ 6:02 pm | Reply


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