Are You Insane?
It's what I wanted to say, but I held back, merely commenting that she was "living on the edge" and "engaging in risky behavior." I mean, what on earth did our youngest son's teacher think, moving the students' desks into a different configuration without warning us first?
Lest you think I'm mad instead of the divine Ms. H (entirely possible), this is a class of eleven students with high functioning autism--flexibility is not their strong suit, and rigidity is our own son's middle name.
For months I've had the words "autism is funny, except when it's not" on a post-it note on my desk, ready for the moment when I want to write about one of the many humorous/tragic/bittersweet moments that crop up when you have a kid on the spectrum. But there hasn't been one that I've been ready to write about lately, so I'll use it on his teacher's momentary flirtation with disaster.
Ms. H was optimistic; she knew she was "living on the edge" and was able to make jokes about it, and admittedly, there were no rabid outbursts while I was in the room, so she may be right and me wrong about the danger of changing the classroom environment without prepping the students for months beforehand. I know that at home, changing the environment is something done with care and calculation--my old game of "move the furniture whenever the wife is out of town" is a thing of the past.
When I pick up the little guy this afternoon, I look forward to seeing how the teachers look--will they look war torn and battle fatigued, or bright and cheery after a rewarding day? Either way, it will have been another lesson in flexibility for the kids, and I'm glad they're doing the risking, not me.
It's what I wanted to say, but I held back, merely commenting that she was "living on the edge" and "engaging in risky behavior." I mean, what on earth did our youngest son's teacher think, moving the students' desks into a different configuration without warning us first?
Lest you think I'm mad instead of the divine Ms. H (entirely possible), this is a class of eleven students with high functioning autism--flexibility is not their strong suit, and rigidity is our own son's middle name.
For months I've had the words "autism is funny, except when it's not" on a post-it note on my desk, ready for the moment when I want to write about one of the many humorous/tragic/bittersweet moments that crop up when you have a kid on the spectrum. But there hasn't been one that I've been ready to write about lately, so I'll use it on his teacher's momentary flirtation with disaster.
Ms. H was optimistic; she knew she was "living on the edge" and was able to make jokes about it, and admittedly, there were no rabid outbursts while I was in the room, so she may be right and me wrong about the danger of changing the classroom environment without prepping the students for months beforehand. I know that at home, changing the environment is something done with care and calculation--my old game of "move the furniture whenever the wife is out of town" is a thing of the past.
When I pick up the little guy this afternoon, I look forward to seeing how the teachers look--will they look war torn and battle fatigued, or bright and cheery after a rewarding day? Either way, it will have been another lesson in flexibility for the kids, and I'm glad they're doing the risking, not me.
2 comments:
So how did things go? We didn't hear about this one (my son is in your son's class), but I do know that it was a tiring week at home. I know there were at least 2 other transitions that we did hear about this week, not to mention being back to school after 3 weeks off. That is one adorable picture.
They went okay, I was surprised. But the weekend was horrific, so perhaps that was the fallout. Thanks. Your guy is so sweet.
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