Finding My Voice - Autobiography 4

Until the year 1998, I was a fairly docile and submissive person – what you might consider a doormat. Flying under the radar was an easier path for me than taking any course that might have lead to confrontation and conflict. However, my life changed drastically when issues surfaced with my youngest child.

The son I love deeply, my baby boy, at age eleven was what teachers (and others) would classify as a "nightmare student." He was disruptive, argumentative, easily distracted, unpredictable, and unmotivated. What nobody knew at the time was that this nightmare student, this blonde hair, blue-eyed, handsome boy who was such a pain in the ass in so many ways was suffering emotional pain from an undiagnosed mental illness and an unidentified learning disability.
The words, "I want to be in heaven" are words a mother does not expect to hear from their child unless they are contemplating life after death. It is these six words, spoken to me by my son as he was contemplating taking his life, which propelled me to change my comfortable existence to one where I challenged the status quo. My son needed someone to go to bat for him with the school system. His academic setting was not appropriate for him or for the other students in the classroom. Asking nicely for support services proved futile. Attending meetings teachers, principals, school psychologists, and resources specialists resulted in minimal changes. These meetings left me feeling inadequate as a parent and inferior to the intellectuals with whom I’d just met. I often left the meetings in tears.

Frustrated by the red tape and lack of any real action on the part of the school district, I became proactive. I educated myself about special education laws, my son’s diagnoses, available academic placements for students with special needs similar to those of my son, and joined a support group for parents facing similar challenges. Armed with new knowledge and a good dose of anger, I requested another meeting with the school professionals.

I remember the details of this meeting like it occurred yesterday. I sat myself at the head of the table in the chair normally occupied by the principal or the school psychologist. Instead of waiting for someone to start the meeting, I announced that I would start the meeting. I began by letting those in attendance know that while I appreciated their input and their many years of experience, that I was really the ultimate authority when it came to the needs of my son. In a compelling and eloquent manner, I announced that I would have the final say regarding my son’s educational placement. I then proceeded to detail exactly what accommodations and services I expected the school district to provide. I produced documentation to support my position and to let them know that I had done "my homework." I ended the meeting by letting the principal, school psychologist, teacher, and administrator know that I would settle for nothing less than a new placement for my son; an academic environment that would support him emotionally and academically. I also informed them that I knew the next steps to take should my request be denied; and that I planned to do whatever was necessary to ensure the academic success of my son – even if that meant taking them to court.

I’d like to say that change occurred immediately, but it didn’t. It took another school year to win this battle with the District. During this year I had many opportunities to use speech in a powerful way. I became active in special education advocacy. I took an active role in helping other parents navigate the difficult system of special education. Ironically, the very administrators who fought so hard to reject my requests for accommodations actually welcomed my participation on their Special Education Advisory Board. My voice was no longer viewed as an annoyance, but rather as a respected and valued voice that could provide insight into the difficulties that face parents of children with special needs.

It is this verbal language event, the meeting where I found my voice, which I remember as a turning point in my life. My days as a doormat were over.