Legend has it, when I started school, I marched right in, turned around and told my mom "I'm fine, I'll see you later"
This story changes in detail depending on when and what time of day you ask my mom. 😏
The bottom line is that I was her super independent, fearless child.
Fortunately, or unfortunately I have passed that gene onto my son.
We started a mainstream school recently. It was an agonizing decision to get to this point. There were several people that thought he should just go to a specialist school for children with autism. Others on his care team thought that he would flourish in a mainstream setting with neurotypical children and learn to mimic and mirror their normal social behaviours.
After going back and forth, we opted for mainstream school.
The road to school was a rocky, emotional and sometimes crappy one.
We had to get assessments, apply for school disability funding, meet with teachers, principals, aides, therapists, the Pope, etc. Then there were more things to do like develop his Individual Learning Plan (IEP) and work on a transition program.
When all said and done I felt like we were about to launch him into space not Kindergarden.
Don't get me wrong, I appreciate all of the preparation, the meetings and the care and consideration put forth by EVERYONE dealing with Noa. But like all things in our life, it was overwhelming.
All we did for the past several months is agonize over EVERYTHING and anything with school.
Would he have an aide available for his am break? Who would watch him during lunch? Would he need someone in the classroom to help him understand instructions?
Everything was a question and answers were mostly in the form of guesstimations and theories.
I barely slept the night before his first day of school. I took a half day at work so I could be there.
I had a cute little sign made with all the normal stats "My First Day of School" listing his height, hobbies and teachers name. That morning he was as calm as ever, asking over and over again about "Big School". I reassured him that we were going to Big School today and that he would be a big boy now. My final statement fell on his deaf ears as he was busy picking out a perfectly round rice cake from the bag.
I took the obligatory pics and we piled into the car to drive to school.
We parked a couple of blocks away so that we could allow Noa some time to acclimate and we could prepare him for his day. Preparing Noa is telling him what is going to happen. Noa is not particularly rigid in his schedule but he does need a general idea about what is going to happen unless you want him to fall apart. So we walked towards school and I reminded him that we were going to go to Big School. That his teacher, Miss L would see him. That his friend, E would be there and that he would see one of his therapists from Little School. He walked along, repeating the plan, turning it over in his little mind.
We all gathered at his classroom, a sea of new little faces. Some excited by the new adventure and others clinging to legs, crying. Thankfully, Noa was pretty serene. Just looking around calmly.
I made anxious and obligatory chatter with some of the new parents. We traded laughs about how this was a long time coming.
The bell rang and Miss L, Noa's therapist and the teachers aide came to gather the little ones up and take them to class. We were invited to come in as it was the first day. I could feel my chest tightening and my tears coming. I was blinking furiously, trying to keep it together. Thankfully, there were other mom's already half way to a Stage 4 meltdown. I wasn't alone.
We took Noa in, got him seated to his friend and then the second bell rang. That was our cue, that was it.
Noa was engrossed in a puzzle that was set out on the table.
I bent down to tell him bye.
He was busy in the puzzle.
"Noa, Mommy and Daddy are leaving now. You are going to have a good day at Big School"
He didn't look up, grabbing another piece
"I stay at Big School"
It was a statement, not a question. When Noa questions it could mean he's uneasy or upset. This was just a statement. An understanding. A resolution.
He was comfortable.
He was fine.
"I'll see you later Noa. I love you"
"See you later" I winced cause I didn't get the obligatory "I love you" back as all the other children were doing.
He didn't look up.
There was no anxiety.
As far as he was concerned we were gone.
We waved at Miss L and the therapist and I barely made it to the door when the tears started flowing. One of the other moms and I had a brief squeeze of hands in solidarity as we darted away from the classroom.
All that preparation, all that work to get him to this point.
He doesn't need me right now. He's independent.
He got that same gene that made me comfortable with dismissing my mom on my first day of school over 40 years ago.
I guess we are doing something right.
