Defensive

My first summer class (the music class...remember the horror?) has ended, and my second one began yesterday. It's a class on special education called Introduction to the Exceptional Learner. I have both been looking forward to it and dreading it.



Today, the second day, we began watching the movie Educating Peter. Have any of you seen it? It's over fifteen years old, so a little dated, but what I've seen so far has been interesting. To say the least. We only watched the first 20 minutes today, and will continue it tomorrow. The professor intentionally didn't give us any background on Peter before we watched it, only that he has Down syndrome. The movie chronicles his inclusion in a third grade classroom. When he first arrives, he exhibits pretty drastic behavior problems. He yells unintelligibly in class. He rolls around on the floor. He wrestles chairs. He hits and pushes other children. He basically has no social skills whatsoever, and his speech is not understandable for the most part.



So we're all sitting there watching this, and I am immediately horrified. To see this kid with Down syndrome, trying to get along in a classroom, and failing miserably. To watch the reactions of my classmates, some in disbelief, others laughing when Peter does things like licking the camera, or cracking two boys' heads together. To realize that, even though I had ultimately decided NOT to say anything about having a child with special needs to the class, I was going to have to say something. Something, anything, to defend my own child and his right to an education in the least restrictive environment.



The professor stopped the video and asked us what we thought. She asked us how we would feel if we were the teacher. And how we would feel if we were Peter's mother. Or the mother of another child in the class. People started spouting off about how inclusion doesn't work, how it's too hard for the teacher, how it takes time away from the other students. How some kids with special needs need to be isolated in self-contained classrooms. How kids could be so mean to kids they can see are different. And I could feel my blood start to boil, though in a way I could see their point, because Peter was definitely a challenge. But these people are teachers, or are aspiring to be teachers, and they already have negative attitudes toward inclusion and diversity in the classroom. They are also parents; parents who would protest if their kid had to sit next to mine at school. I was hit with the realization that no one wants my child in their classroom, even though they have never met him or know anything about him. Not the teacher, not the students, and not their parents. I seriously started to shake with anger. And sadness.



Before I could even think straight, I heard myself start to explain how I didn't think that this was an accurate representation of a child with Down syndrome; how there seemed to be other factors at work here: how Peter had probably never been around typical peer models, so he had few social skills. How he may have never been corrected for his poor behavior. How he may have had an emotional disorder or something else that resulted in his inappropriate actions. And how I have a child with Down syndrome; a child that is bright and funny and engaged in his environment, and how, even though he is very young, we hope for him to be included, when the time is right, in a setting with his typical peers, so that he can benefit from modeling and social interaction.



So as I wrapped it all up, trying very hard not to get emotional (and probably failing miserably), the professor confirmed my suspicions; that Peter had never been in a regular education environment before; that he had spent years attending school at a facility for children with severe disabilities, who were mostly nonverbal. She was telling us how important it is that, as an educator, you take into account a student's history. Then class was over so she excused us, and I went to the car and cried.



I mean, am I fooling myself here? Am I going to have to keep my son isolated from typical kids? Am I going to have to fight tooth and nail for him to get the same treatment as everyone else? It's all well and good, now, because he's only two, and we generally only move in very supportive circles, I guess. I haven't come across such blatant discrimination yet. Am I fooling myself to believe that he will be able to function in a classroom? That he will know how to behave, and interact with others, and try to do his work? That he won't be rolling around on the floor during a math lesson? That he won't be screaming at the top of his lungs for no apparent reason? At age two, he does throw things around, and yell, and pull hair, but I've been chalking that up to toddlerness more than anything. Am I living in a bubble or what?