Some Days You're a Hero, Some Days a Monster Eats You for Lunch
I live in the general vicinity of New York City, and the papers and newscasts hereabouts have been full of images of the US Airways flight that made an unexpected but ultimately safe landing in the Hudson River. I imagine it's been a big story everywhere. What an amazing stroke of luck or grace to have had that pilot with that skill-set in that cockpit at that moment. We're not accustomed to seeing disasters wrapped up so tidily anymore, and it's cause for elation.
It makes me think of those days, those rare but spectacular days as a special-needs parent when everything goes right -- when the things you've learned and the services you've put in place and the instinct you've operated on and the benevolence of others comes together, and a situation that appeared to hold nothing but heartbreak suddenly lifts your heart instead. A step is taken or a word is spoken, a meeting goes your way or an approval comes through, a disciplinary strategy works or a child potties finally. And you feel, for that fleeting time, that you know exactly what you are doing, that you are the person put on this earth to guide your child to the most successful possible outcome. From potential tragedy, you steer toward triumph, maybe with some soggy luggage and dead birds and delayed commuters, but with ticker-tape flying. Oh, it's glorious, isn't it?
More often, of course, you feel like that plane crash on Lost, flaming wreckage everywhere, no idea where you are, inexplicable events at every turn, monsters on your trail, twists in time and space and logic, and locals not at all intent on helping out. Wouldn't be such a shock, maybe, if Ben popped up at a Due Process meeting or a doctor's waiting room to reveal that this is not your life, it's all part of some hideous Dharma Project experiment.
But in the midst of those days of confusion and despair and sweat and tears and random catastrophe comes a day when you guide the plane in and set the plane down and everything makes sense and everybody is joyful and damage is minimized and a situation that showed so little promise becomes a source of inspiration. You lift the nose of that plane up just like you know how to do, you make sure the passengers are safe, and for just a little while, you're a hero.
Aw, forgive me all the metaphors. Got my son's IEP meeting this Thursday, and I'm gearing up. It should be a smooth flight, but you never know when you'll run into geese. Or, you know, a polar bear.
What's New: Special Needs News | Site of the Day | School Behavior Chart
Photo by Chris McGrath/Getty Images
I dread my son’s IEP ‘thing.’ Parents aren’t invited to the meeting – the principal is adamant that we’re not part of the process. Which means, of course, I’ll be doing my side of the meeting here at home, using the prior IEP and whatever reference materials I want, and communicating by notes until I’m content with the revised IEP. Perhaps those who do the actual meeting – ‘only the teachers’ – will figure out it takes a lot less time to deign to follow the law and invite me.
I loved this post. I’m having one of those weeks where I want everyone to give me some breathing room so I can make a doctor’s appt for myself for once – without worrying about which kid I’m running late for, or have my cell phone ringing with someone else’s needs again. The pilot was lucky – they called him a hero. If it were me, they’d be complaining that I got their luggage wet.
Ha! Yes, they’d complain about the wet luggage, and take us to court for murdering innocent birds.
Yep the birds would get together to fight me for interfering with their migration path.
This has been the year of absolute disaster at the beginning and yet my son has made awesome strides that no one expected.
Life throws you curves but you either get hit across the head or you deal with what you get.
sylrayj – you said that “Parents are never invited to the meeting…” regarding your IEP meeting? HOW ILLEGAL IS THAT! Procedural violations like this can usually be quickly and easily addressed by going through the state complaint filing process (not due process or mediation). You need to send a letter or call your state education agency.
ardassist, you’re right about it being illegal, even here in Canada. I don’t like leaving it like this, but things are going to be more tricky soon… My daughter will be entering kindergarten next year, and brings her own issues. I need to try to have the principal on my side, and she’s not really the forgiving type. I had to choose to accept this limitation, and get the IEP where we need it through written communication back and forth with the teachers, because it’ll eventually get there without having the principal decrease the amount of support we can manage to squeak out of the system (through perfectly legal means, such as choice of teacher, etc.). I don’t like it, and it’s not helping other students in the school – but I have to try my best.