Rejected Holiday Card photo! Love the smiles, but the light is wrong.
Oh, I don't know. Am I being too picky?
Yesterday I met with The Harsh One, Charlie's first grade teacher (so named because she made Summer cry multiple times in first grade). Things seem to be going very well. On Back to School Night, the principal came over to tell me that he didn't put tennis balls on the chair feet for Charlie this year--because the room is carpeted. So I know he was thinking of Charlie, which is good. And Charlie's seat is at the front of the room with his good ear facing the teacher--also good, but he will move throughout the year, because they all get to take turns at the different tables, and to first graders, that's a big deal. They would all notice and freak out if Charlie didn't move. The Harsh One knows to seat him in a way that will give him a good line of sight and acoustics.
I set up the meeting to give my unilateral hearing loss spiel. I brought some handouts--"How to Help the One-Eared Listener"; "Relationship of Hearing Loss to Listening and Learning Needs." The Harsh One was very receptive, but she seemed to be leaning a little bit towards the "He's a six-year-old boy, sometimes he's not going to pay attention" side rather than the "I get that this is for rizzle and I will jump through flaming hoops to ensure that Charlie hears each and every individual vowel and consonant spoken in a ten-mile radius of my classroom" side.
I explained that we'd decided not to go the hearing aid route at this time, and that the sound field system--a little microphone she wears, which wirelessly transmits to a little speaker she can set on a desk behind Charlie--is the most important thing for Charlie right now. Then, in the course of the conversation I discovered that the sound field system is not moving with Charlie to art, music, library, computer lab, etc. (It does not need to move to gym, because that teacher already has a Britney Spears headset that she wears all the time, even though her voice carries throughout the school even without it. Nor does it need to move to speech therapy, where there is only Charlie and one other kid. But I thought it was moving with him to those other classes, and I was a little dismayed that it wasn't. "He doesn't have that in every arena of his life," The Harsh One pointed out. As if the school librarian is not more important than, say, the guy at the pizza shop. I was a tiny bit shocked. "He needs to have it in learning situations," I said. "So, do you want to think about that and get back to me?" she said. I squirmed just a little, and then replied, "I don't think I need to think about it. I think it needs to move." The queen of the understated, backhanded, please-don't-think-I'm-confrontational-I-hate-confrontation, overly polite super tiny request!
I also discovered that the hearing loss consultant had not been in to observe how the room is set up and how the teacher and Charlie seem to be doing. The turf wars, unfortunately, end up hurting only the kids.
What turf wars?
Oh. I just looked back into my archives and see that I never posted about the awkward meeting I had with the hearing loss consultant and the speech pathologist in the spring. See, back in January, we had Charlie's big three-year IEP review. Only the hearing loss consultant never gave her report--she had to leave before we finished the meeting. I thought we were going to reconvene, but we never did, and then suddenly it was the end of the school year and I realized I never heard what she had to say. The town is paying her. Doesn't anyone else care what she thinks?
I tried to call a team meeting, but the kindergarten teacher couldn't get anyone to cover her class, and the learning specialist's mother had just died. Well can we meet with everyone else? No? Yes? I have to call the meeting? I can't call the meeting, but no one else will call it? I have to get permission for the hearing loss consultant to enter the building?
It took several emails in secret code--"I would be happy to share some of my observations but I have to be diplomatic and respectful of the school's expectations for my consultation," the hearing loss consultant wrote to me--but I finally secured permission to meet at the school with the hearing loss consultant and the speech pathologist. Who then demonstrated through gritted teeth and stiff posture that they can hardly stand each other. Hearing loss consultant wants speech therapist to do articulation drills ("Th th th th thuh, fff fff fff fff fff ffuh") with Charlie; speech therapist thinks this is a terrible idea that Charlie won't sit still for and it won't work anyway. Or something. I'm making it cartoonish, I know. It's months ago now. I remember Oscar sitting on the floor playing with cars and eating Goldfish crackers. Each of them heard the other one's view, but neither woman changed her mind, and we all smiled at each other and went off for summer vacation.
Last night I emailed the hearing loss consultant and asked her to come in to the first grade classroom. She responded immediately: "The request/arrangements for classroom consultation come from someone in the school district, but I have not heard from anyone regarding Charlie and you certainly can initiate that request."
Today I telephoned the learning specialist, who is Charlie's team leader, to initiate that request. I wanted to tell her that
1. The sound field system needs to move from class to class with him, and if that is not clear from the IEP--right now it says "Use of a sound field system in class"--then that part of the IEP needs to be rewritten. For example, "Use of a sound field system in all learning environments" or "in all large-group instruction situations." I don't know! I'm just the mom!
and
2. She needs to arrange for the hearing loss consultant to come in and observe and, well, consult, with The Harsh One, and ALL the other teachers who see Charlie every week, about acoustics, seating, and THE SOUND FIELD SYSTEM. Right now the IEP says "As Charlie attends public school district will support consultation to that program by a consultant knowledgable in education of children with hearing impairment, who will make needed recommendations." Maybe that part of the IEP needs to be rewritten to say "District will call consultant in at the beginning of the year to consult with all staff." Or something. I don't know. Jeez!
And she hasn't called me back. Granted it was just this morning. But I don't know why she wouldn't just call me back right away. I mean, I've gotten quicker calls back from surgeons.
When this stuff happens, all I can think about is--and I've said this before--what about those people whose first language isn't English? And this is in a school district that is known far and wide for being super duper generous to kids with special needs. In other words, we have it good. What is it like in the overburdened cities and less affluent suburbs? And what is it like for the families with kids with way worse problems?
I'm going to have to fight this same little fight every year, and that's a tiny bit discouraging. But I can do it, no problem. I only work part time, I'm very smart and, thanks to our Early Intervention experience and my secret weapon, my friend Julie the speech therapist, very well prepared. What's more than a tiny bit discouraging is realizing that compared to most people, we have it really really good.
