School

School

We finally, reluctantly, made the decision to move Coleman to a new school.  He transitioned at the end of last May, and now, nearly a year later, he is adjusted and doing well.

The change was hard for him, hard for us, and I know hard for the wonderful folks he left behind.  His last day of school at East is one I will forever cherish. 

I had asked his teacher at East to make for him a social story about the going to a new school.  She did it perfectly, and sent it home the following day.  That night, I read through it alone and cried.  “In 10 more days I will be going to a new school.   I will miss my friends and teachers at East school but I will have new fiends and teachers at my new school.  My new teachers names are Maggie and Sam.  In Ms. J’s class I did work and played with puzzles.  In my new class I will do work and play with puzzles.  My new school will be great!”   There were pictures of his current school and his new school, pictures of Ms J and the kids in his class, and a picture of his new teachers.  In my head I could see Ms. J putting together the pictures and the story, trying her best to make this confusing change simple for Coleman.  I know she cried too, putting it together.

We read him the social story every day, several times each day for the 10 days leading up to his last day.  He was somewhat uninterested as we sat going through it and I wondered if he understood what we were trying to tell him.  I realized later that he hadn’t. 

For his last day at East, I had asked if I could come in early to gather his things.  I wanted to bring some snacks for the kids and some small momentos for his teachers.  I also was worried about how he would be on that last day so I wanted to be around.  And I really wanted to say goodbye and thank you to everyone.  I arrived at the school around 12:30, and went to his classroom.  Normally a quiet place, each child working with a para or an aide, the room was a bustle of activity – I could hear the commotion out in the hall.  As I entered his class, I saw a bunch of kids gathered around Coleman, laughing and talking to him.  I went over to Ms. J.  She said a lot of the kids from the other grades had been stopping by to say goodbye to Coleman.  Coleman loved it.  He was smiling away at all the kids, albeit confused about why they were all saying goodbye and good luck.  As soon as that group left, more came.  And again after that.  And in between, teachers and aides and admins floated in.  “It’s been like this all day” said Ms J.  Just about everybody who knew Coleman or who had worked with him had stopped by.  It was as loving and heartfelt a tribute as I could have ever hoped for.  And while it may have all been lost on Coleman, it certainly wasn’t lost on me.   These people who had taught and cared for Coleman for the last 8 years, who had made accommodation after accommodation for him throughout the school, who had watched him grow from a tiny bald 3 year old with cancer to the small but strong 10 year old he was now, had all grown to love him.  It was a tough day for everyone. 

He started the following week at his new school.  Please, God, let this be the right decision, I prayed. The first day went amazingly well.  And when we got home, I understood why.  “Go see Ms. J tomorrow?” he asked with a big smile.  “No buddy, remember you’re going to a new school now” I said as I reached for the social story.  His hand grabbed mine before I reached it, stopping me.  “10 more days?” he asked.  He asks this any time he wants to know when something is ending or coming up.  For example, if he knows he has gymnastics coming up, he’ll ask “10 more days then gymnastics?” and I have to just put in the correct number. “3 more days to gymnastics!” I’ll tell him.  So when he said “10 more days?” I knew what he wanted:  how many more days until he could go back to East.  It was so sad.  I knelt down beside him and said “we aren’t going back to Coley’s old school.  Coley has a new school now.”  He just stared at me, and then said “10 more days?” 

The next day was colossally worse.  His new school was trying to break some OCD behaviors (rightly so) from the start, and Coleman figured out quickly that this was the real deal.  The aggression and tantrums escalated as expected.   By the end of the week, Coleman was exhausted.  He stood in the playroom staring at the T.V.  I walked in and knelt beside him.  “10 more days?” he asked as he started to cry.  Oh God, the pain.  I hugged him and tried not to cry too, and said only “I’m sorry you miss your friends.  I know this is hard. I love you” and I hugged him and he cried gently in a way I had never heard before. 

Things, thank God, have improved since then.  He is wonderful, has completely adjusted, and likes his new school.  It was the right change, but it was goddamn hard.  Coleman still remembers his friends from East, and we hear their names in his scripts every now and then.  In a few weeks we’ll be doing an athletic program for special needs kids and some of those kids and Ms J. are going to be there.  I told Coleman about it a couple of days ago,  and he’s been excited ever since.  Every couple of hours he smiles and says “10 more days for Ms J?”  J    It’s going to be a nice little reunion. 

Coley's First Year in School (Pirate for Halloween)

Coley's last day at East