A New Step Uphill For Riley

Two out of three sons are graduating this year. My middle son, Riley, graduated today, and my oldest son, Ryan graduates tomorrow. That's right- two graduations in two days. Riley is 12 years old, and Ryan is 13. Riley graduated today from the 5Th grade, and tomorrow Ryan graduates from 8Th grade. Ryan is going to high school this fall.

Riley is 'transitioning' from one special needs school for the severe and profound into the next step for his autistic class and the next building for special needs kids that are either too big or too old to continue in the elementary grades for special needs. The 6Th grade reference for next year is simply a chronological date, and has nothing at all to do with Riley's academic standings or his ability to learn. He is simply being passed on down the line, like an auto part being built into a car. What kind of car Riley turns out to be is still unknown, and to some degree remains to be seen by what type of mechanic Riley will get 'to work on him' for the next couple of years.

For the most part, I feel that Riley's time at this special needs facility has been time wasted on the learning curve that I believe Riley can attain. On the other hand, I see the tremendous amount of work that is required from the teachers and teacher's aids in Riley's present 5Th grade class. Not only are there 2 special needs regular teachers, but there are enough 'associate teachers' for every student currently in Riley's class. And there needs to be an associate for every student when they have to deal with such severe and profound disabilities on an every day basis. I know how trying it can be to deal with Riley on a bad day, let alone how difficult it would be to have a class of special needs kids that are all 'having a bad day'. I wouldn't be able to take it for long without some help.

The school had a graduation ceremony all planned out for the graduating students, with music like "Pomp and Circumstance" and the traditional walk across the stage to receive their degrees. The teaching staff did a musical number to the tune of "Somewhere Over The Rainbow", and finally there was a slide show presentation showing daily school activities of all the graduates.

It was during the slide show that I lost it emotionally. Thank goodness that the house lights were turned down. I kept wiping my tears on my sleeve, hoping no one would notice me crying silently. It was just the realization for me that this middle child of mine already had his entire academic/vocational life planned out for him; and he is not even a teen yet!

There wasn't any thoughts of bright promise or how much potential he would develop. There wasn't any wondering whether he would be a doctor or lawyer or such; just a grim outline of his life to come at the pre-vocational special needs school where Riley would be taught how to basically take care of himself in his adult life. It would be tedious and mundane things like brushing his hair and teeth; getting dressed by himself, fixing simple meals for himself from the refrigerator to the microwave. These types of things that are innate for most people would be repeated and repeated until it became a habit for Riley and his four other classmates.

As I sat there and stared blankly up at the stage of 'graduates', and all their visible handicaps and disabilities, a deep, deep sadness washed over me and left me emotionless. Riley stood tall and looked extremely handsome among the other graduates on the stage. Some graduates were in wheel chairs, others had various prostheses and little quirks that belied their disabilities; but not my son. You couldn't tell anything was visibly wrong with Riley for that short time on the stage. Soon, though, Riley put his hands up and covered his ears which put a comfortable spin on the extra loud noise that came across the stage from the other graduates. Riley liked the muffled sound that penetrated his fingers or hands as he held his hands over his ears for an extended period until he felt comfortable with his hands down again.

He waited patiently for the other names to be called, and then when it was time for Riley's name to be called, I made my way quickly up to the stage to walk Riley across it, after he received his diploma. He looked very closely at the shiny gold star that was stamped on his diploma, bending his head way down for the look. It was very cute, and the audience laughed. When Riley turned to walk off the stage with me, the audience applauded like they did for all the graduates. I thought the noise might bother Riley and waited for his hands to shoot up to cover his ears for comfort; but instead Riley's head shot up with a wide grin on his face, and he seemed to bask in the limited limelight of the moment people were clapping for him.

Riley's smile lasted all the way back to his seat. As we watched the slide show, I imagined a very different scenario for Riley's future. A future that included a 'normal' life, filled with bright promise and unlimited potential for Riley, whose life would be stretched out for him like a long journey where his future stands on the far horizon; something to be reached for and attained. I dreamed of the day he would bring home his 'girl'-maybe 'the ONE', and could vaguely imagine the glimpse of adorable grandchildren...

Instead, grim reality set in almost immediately. Riley's future at the pre-vocational special needs school would be laid out like a canal: a defined path with no way out except to pass along from one point to the next smoothly. That's it. Basically spending time in 'school' until he reaches 18 or 21 if I want him to stay in school longer. Huh?

What kind of life plan do all these handicapped kids really deserve? I don't know for sure. But it sure seems that we as a society should be able to do better by these children of God.

20/20 These Children Get Left Behind


Sheila