I know I’m over my post quota today. At least there will only be one more week of the endless “my baby is graduating” posts to ignore. Today, to everyone’s surprise, Tommy was awarded Bearden High School’s Achiever Award. It comes with a scholarship. As if I needed an excuse to cry. Again. The paragraph below was written by Tommy on the scholarship application. His grammar skills are atrocious, but the sentiment is sincere.

I feel I deserve this scholarship because I have overcome a lot of problems and improved greatly. When I was younger, I could not go more than two or three years without having to be removed from society and sent to alternative schools or the like, however, I have improved tremendously and can now handle normal school just fine. I used to be extremely antisocial, avoiding people no matter what, but now I have friends. I ride horses with people on Thursday afternoons and even have a small club I go to Tuesdays and Thursdays. On Saturdays I play dungeons and dragons with some friends as well. I dislike failure a lot and try very hard to get things done and succeed. I work hard and usually get good grades. I also try to help out whenever I can with other students and I try to help my teachers.

Doug gets an earlobe to earlobe grin on his face and proudly announces that “Tommy is about to graduate and he is going to LMU,” whenever we see people we know in the off-line world. I wear the smile of an exhausted warrior and with tear-filled eyes, calmly say, “Tommy is going to graduate in three weeks with a real diploma.” If pushed for more information, I whisper that Tommy wants to attend LMU in the fall. Several years ago, when things were particularly difficult and I was in a very dark place emotionally, I took a psychological inventory. I decided that at the very moment in time, things were not terrible. In fact, they were much better than they could be. That became my bar and every step forward or upward was unexpected progress. A bonus gift. In the past two years, that “this is as good as it gets” attitude has made life feel like one giant celebration.

Graduation is so real now that we can all taste it. All of Tommy’s teachers have commented on his severe case of ’senior-itis’ that has him slacking. After a lifetime of struggle, Tommy deserves to relax and enjoy. He was never invited to other children’s houses or parties. He had to earn the privileges that other children are given automatically. He had to learn the things which others intuitively know. Graduating from high school is a milestone that a large number of his Aspie peers couldn’t reach. We need a partyathon to celebrate. Instead, I am frozen like a deer in the headlights of the new start line that is post high school.

The very few peers that have graduated and are attempting college are in way, way over their heads. Teenagers are expected to turn 18, graduate high school and venture out on their own. Aspies are so emotionally immature that this expectation is completely unrealistic. I feel like we setting Tommy up for failure by even considering sending him away to college. At the same time, there really are not a lot of other options. This is what Tommy wants. Maybe it’s just a one semester experiment. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. I am already planning a farrier apprenticeship for Tommy to try next. Not because I want to predetermine his failure at college, but because I am afraid. I am afraid of Tommy getting hurt. I am afraid of Tommy giving up. I am afraid of what happens next. So, I fall back into the survival mode of Tommy’s childhood. Trying everything, but always prepared to move on to something new instead of wallowing in each failure. When (not if) Tommy succeeds, it will be a gift. An unexpected triumph that we will celebrate.

When Tommy was young, many hours were spent trying to teach him to hug. It came sometime after removing all the tags from his clothing and before charts and flashcards teaching facial expressions. Initially, hugs were something that caused the recipient physical pain. It was equally likely that you would get a hug that was so light you wondered if there was any physical contact. Tonight I mentally slapped myself in the forehead for forgetting to teach Tommy about handshakes. Trying to find a happy place between dead fish and arm wrestling just moved up the priority chart. It ranks three or four things above teaching him to do his head nod tic to music. If he’s gonna rock, it should at least have rhythm.

“And after a while, you can work on points for style.
Like the club tie, and the firm handshake,
A certain look in the eye and an easy smile.”

This week was Tommy’s last ever IEP. If you’ve never been to an IEP, imagine having your job performance review posted on a blog and amended by trolls. Or, imagine sitting naked while everyone screams insults at you. Wait, that’s something else. It just seems that unpleasant. Doug threatened to sneak champagne in the school to celebrate this momentous occasion. Instead, I sat in my usual chair in the school conference room and listened to the voices in my head shrieking in terror. You know how after being in labor for hours and hours, you suddenly want to do nothing but go home and sleep? How even though you’ve whined for weeks that you want that baby to hurry up and arrive, you now think you would prefer to be pregnant a few more weeks? THAT is how I felt. No, I don’t want to sign away all the services and support that my child has been getting. He’s not ready. I’m not ready. It’s too scary. Please don’t take the training wheels off the bike.

We signed the papers. Tommy is done with special education and they are done with him. He’s being thrown into the shark infested waters of the real world. I was given less than 30 seconds to mentally grasp the magnitude of everything that we just lost. The judge woman from vocational rehabilitation began the oral interview which she will use to decide if Tommy deserves any financial assistance for post high school education. She has a pile of paperwork that includes his ACT scores (28), his IQ (xxx, I don’t want Tommy to know how surprisingly well he tested) and his Autism testing results. The paperwork will have some influence on the determination of eligibility, but ultimately it comes down to this woman’s belief in Tommy’s ability to succeed. There are thousands of other people asking for financial assistance and they may be more or less capable than Tommy of learning vocational skills, but I will never know them. I can only hope that Tommy makes the cut.

I used to work for a non-profit agency. I was always looking for new grants that might fit our agency. The actual process of grant writing was not technically difficult, just time consuming. It completely monopolizes your time and energy. After the bulk of the grant is finally written, the ten zillion forms have been created in a dozen different formats, a dozen different people have requested edits to the report and the final result has been transformed into about 25 bound copies, it is shipped all over the country. Then, you wait. When you have almost forgotten the grant, you start hearing through the rumor mill if you made the initial cut. Ultimately, you never know exactly why you do or don’t get any of the requested funding. You either move forward with the obligations you promised in the grant or you start all over with the grant application procedure.

There are two things that I hated walking away from when I left my job. One was an event that I coordinated in May. The other was a grant funded Transition program. I was seriously vested in the program and suspected that the other agencies involved didn’t have the same goals for the program. Now, I know I was right. There is still a gaping hole where there should be a covered bridge. I left the program, but here I am, back in the same place I was when I left. One way or another, I was destined to cross this ravine. I step outside of myself and look at my situation’s irony. I am still at the mercy of the whims of others, but I must keep moving forward, no matter what they decide. I recognize that everything that has happened in the past has been to prepare me for the present. Whatever happens now will be preparation for the future. Again and again, my children teach me more than I can ever teach them.

It’s not overwhelming enough to prepare for the graduation that Tommy was never supposed to have. Now, we have to figure out what comes next. Without help, Tommy picked out the college and major that he wants for himself. I realized he wants to live the life of a normal college student and my stomach turned inside out. It’s not a comfortable feeling. It seemed stupid to write Aspergers on his initial applications to college. “Oh look, a student who will need an unusual support system. We want him here.” The college application and admission process was like a snowball rolling down a mountain. The faster it happened, the bigger it became and there just didn’t seem to be a “right” place or time to mention that Tommy is wired differently than most students. The longer I didn’t say something, the more I felt like I was hiding a skeleton in the closet that would pop out at the worst possible moment. Then, we went to the campus open house over the weekend.

Everything went smoothly until it was time to tour the dorms. Tommy’s entire body language changed so rapidly that my mom alarm bells were echoing in my head. One open bathroom for an entire floor of residents breaks several dozen of Tommy’s rules. We have spent Tommy’s entire life pushing his buttons and deliberately trying to loosen the grip his rules have on his life. Living away from home for the first time without parents nearby is an adjustment for NT teens. It’s much bigger for Tommy. When Sarah has a problem with dorms or any aspect of college life, I will not be calling or visiting anyone. She has to and will be responsible for herself. Normal 18-year-olds don’t need their parents talking to the dorm RAs. Tommy is different. I am trying very hard not to be a crutch to Tommy, but he needs a safety net his first time on the trapeze. It’s time to get that label slapped on his file in the college administration offices. I’m not sure how to do this. I am certain that college professors should not have to talk to parents. Ever. I have to talk to support services and let them be an intermediary. I step tenderly onto the ice, hoping I do not make cracks.

My webhost crashed yesterday and I wasn’t able to make a lengthy, thoughtful post about Autism Awareness Day. Today, I am nursing a migraine and feeling a little terse. Shut up, Doug. So, my post is less from the heart and more from the hip.

To all the doctors who suggested that my son would never read and encouraged me to find a group home for him, shame on you. To all the teachers who told me they were just babysitters, the substitutes who told my child to entertain himself and leave them alone and the administrators who wouldn’t listen, leave education now and become Realtors. To all the gawkers in public who told me I needed to spank my child, crawl back in your caves. To all the other parents who won’t care until it affects your own family, and it will, I love my child as much or more than you love your own child. Would you want those things said about you or your child?

To all the teachers who cared, took risks and fought for justice,
To the family members who always believed anything is possible,
To all the parents who offered a shoulder for tears and a cheer in triumph,
To all the strangers on the Internet who are always with me in spirit,

Thank you. Thank you for your love, compassion and hope. Thank you for seeing beyond the label. Autism is not something Tommy has, it is just part of who he is. And he is a wonderful and amazing human being who I feel honored to have for a son.

Now that we are on the last lap of Tommy’s High School experience, I frequently proclaim my love and affection for his school and all the people there. One of the only things Tommy has done outside of the classroom has been the LAN Club. The LAN teacher has gone above and beyond to teach Tommy the unwritten rules of online gaming. There was no way we could convince Tommy to attend the prom, but we did think we could coerce Tommy to participate in Project Grad. All we had to do was convince the Project Grad planners to add a LAN area and Tommy wouldn’t be able to resist. I called my mother to explain project Grad.
Me: “It’s an all night lock-in party for seniors the night they graduate.”
Granny: “Oh, we did something like that when I was in school. Except it wasn’t a lock-in and there weren’t any chaperones. Also, it was on the beach and we went surfing for hours.”
Me: “Okay, that sounds like a television show and not like something real people get to do.”

The Project Grad parents were receptive and enthusiastic about the idea of a LAN area at their event once I explained LAN and gaming. They also figured out very quickly that they should delegate the work to someone with a vested interest in the LAN. Maybe they were nervous about the trio of Aspie graduates who would be using the room as their safe space all night. Either way, ta-daa! Doug and I are in charge of the LAN area at Project Grad and I immediately retitled our assignment, Project LAN. If Think Geek wasn’t so busy with today’s special product sales, I would whine and beg for prize donations from them. Instead, I’ll just make lists of things we need and things we need to do before the LAN party, I mean Project Grad.

Tomorrow Sarah gets inducted into the National Honor Society. We’re all going to watch, which means we’re going to create a scene. It’s impossible for our crowd not to draw attention. Sarah would prefer if we just dropped her off at the back of the parking lot and picked her up after everyone else has left. In a few weeks she will march in the Dogwood Parade. Next Thanksgiving, she’ll be marching in Chicago’s Thanksgiving Parade. She keeps a 4.0 while participating in several clubs and coordinating a heavy social life. I’m extremely proud of her, but it just isn’t weighing heavily on my mind.

Noah is about to get his black belt in karate. After spending much of the year as the class clown, he has his grades back to all As and Bs. He is my thoughtful child, always worrying about everyone else’s happiness. This summer he’s going from one camp to another, without Doug or I there to keep an eye on him. He’s growing and changing so rapidly that I don’t want to look away from him, but I do.

Amy is reading at an advanced level. She is bright and funny. She’s also stubborn and has an extremely short fuse when things frustrate her. I need to spend all my time teaching her patience, calm and flexibility, but I don’t.

Evan is completely out of control. He looks at you with his bright blue eyes, grins and deliberately defies you. He will completely destroy a room and before you can raise your blood pressure, he shouts “hug” and gives you a giant squeeze and a sloppy kiss. He needs to be potty trained if he is going to start preschool twice a week this fall. It’s way past time to teach him to control that weapon of his. I am making zero progress.

I bounce from one child to another so rapidly that I sometimes forget what I’m doing. I want them all to feel loved and important. I really do recognize their individual personalities and strengths. Yet, I feel like a complete failure and hypocrite. My mind is always on Tommy. Evan is the most dangerous child. Noah is the most fragile child. Tommy is the one I constantly worry about. When things are going poorly for Tommy, I worry. When things are going good for Tommy, I worry more. There are ten billion things going on in my life right now. All I want to do is plan Tommy’s graduation. It’s like the finish line and the starting gate all in one. I am thrilled and horrified. I mentally accuse myself of making this our family’s graduation and triumph when it’s all Tommy’s efforts. I justify that after graduation, my focus can be more on the other children, but I know that won’t happen. It’s not that I love Tommy more, it’s just that he needs so much more. He always has. I just have to find a way to give the other children more without giving Tommy less.

Spring break must be over. Education issues are in the news everywhere today. Three of them have my attention.

First, Knox County gets a new Superintendent today. Sadly, no matter which of the three candidates is chosen, someone will cry foul. I have a personal preference, but I’m not going to stomp my feet and scream conspiracy if someone else is chosen. If the “watchers” would put just a fraction of the effort they put forth looking for wrong-doings into noticing the good stuff, they would be much happier people.

Second, TN may try to have lower standards for special education students under NCLB. Yay and Boo. Parents who are just now entering the special education system with their children are frequently surprised and underwhelmed. No, the system isn’t where it should be. What new parents don’t realize is how very, very far schools have come in the education of students with special needs. From Tommy’s kindergarten class to his senior year has been like going from a log cabin without electricity to the Beverly Hillbillies house with indoor plumbing and a cement pond. We haven’t made it to a NASA lab yet, but we will. Schools should have different goals for different children, but there still needs to be accountability. Without goals and accountability, we risk sliding back to the log cabins. Special needs children should not count as drop-outs or failures if they take until their 22nd birthday to graduate. GEDs should count as successes. Some students will never reach traditional milestones. Give more weight to the goals agreed upon by administrators, teachers and parents at IEPs. Somehow, we must stop using teachers’ scrap booking talents as the measure of a severely disabled student’s progress. Portfolios are too subjective.

Third, a Cookeville democrat is proposing that we deny the children of immigrants without proper paperwork an education. How is ignorance going to help anyone? This is no different than denying women the right to attend school or slaves not being allowed to read. Gender, race and country of birth don’t make you a lesser person. All children deserve an education. Stop punishing children for someone else’s actions.

On Friday, May 16th, at 8:30 pm, Tommy and two of his long-time Aspie friends will graduate from high school with regular (and not special ed) diplomas. They will be the first graduates of our county’s Aspergers classrooms. The classrooms serve as safe places and a home base for the students while they are progressively mainstreamed for increasing portions of their days. The classroom teachers act as safety nets to help bridge the gaps between NT students, teachers, administrators, parents and Aspies. We are all more than a little bit excited about this major milestone that we once thought we would never reach. A celebration is needed. The problem is, what should it be? The students still have varying degrees of sensory issues and peer social skills. They don’t want an old people punch sipping and small talk party. They don’t want a loud, crowded teen party either. We need some ideas! What would be a special way to celebrate a momentous occasion for three very funny, completely unique 18-year-olds and the two teachers without whom this wouldn’t be happening?