She was very sorry, she told me…she had lost her temper and yelled at him. A special ed veteran of many years in a generally well-funded district (and a wonderful teacher many had assured me), his developmental preschool teacher herself wasn’t supplied in my opinion with sufficient aids to meet the level of needs present in her classroom.

The first day I dropped and picked our son off for preschool there, I found out about the desks and bookshelves they were placing across the doors to keep kiddos in the classroom. This district sorted out kiddos with developmental disabilities into what they considered to be cohorts of similar functioning and challenges…so this teacher as I understand it had all of the district’s runners.

“They’re breaking the law,” I vented to Andy. “I know,” he said, “but I’m just glad they’re doing something to try and keep him safe since they won’t put a one-to-one aide with him.” At that point, while he had been diagnosed with level 3 Autism and we knew about his FASD, we still hadn’t received the results of our little man’s genetic testing and we had no idea how long it could take for Tony to develop the risk assessment or impulse control necessary to be safe in any environment. He needed then what he still needs now: constant supervision for his own personal safety.

But at that moment, we stayed silent and didn’t report them because we still didn’t have any idea what his developmental trajectory could look like, and we hoped his safety skills would grow into that environment. I imagine some parents stay silent because they don’t know what the laws are…or maybe they do know, but both parents need to work and they have no other option and they too are just thankful something is being done to protect their kid.

And now, this much-respected teacher was apologizing to me because she lost her temper and yelled when our then four year old son lifted up one of those bookshelves, tipped it over on it’s side, partially throwing it in the process so he could get out the door that led to the teacher prep room connecting two different classrooms, and make a run for it.

At the most recent IEP meeting before that moment, I had sat there for a second time presenting statements from Tony’s therapy team and medical providers (including his geneticist) about his ongoing need for a one-to-one support – not just for learning, but for safety reasons. And they sat there and told me they got this, they would have no problem whatsoever meeting Tony’s needs without it and that no one-to-one aide would be provided or needed.

I accepted her apology for yelling, of course. I understood she was in a difficult position. But it was as clear to me then as it was on day one that they did not actually have the ability to provide my son with sufficient support to help him learn as much as he was capable of, and it was becoming clear to me that they also wouldn’t be able to keep him safe much longer.

But they still had all of his learning and safety bases covered, they assured me.

I wasn’t even a little bit reassured. Because I participated and assisted in all of his therapy types and had since his therapy programs started, I could see some potentially alarming challenges arise from a kiddo with his particular combination of challenges combined with above average growth from Sotos. So, I reached out and had a conversation with a director of a facility I thought might be able to handle his needs if he continued trying to use force to get to what he wanted.

“You don’t want your kid in here,” he assured me. At that time, this was one of the places districts paid to send kiddos they couldn’t handle in their base schools.

And if this man, who knew I could apply for ESA and use that to afford their enrollment fees was saying that, I felt the wisest course of action was to take his word for it and do everything I could to avoid that as an outcome. Which included not wasting the money on an attorney in a battle with the district for a one-to-one aide. Because that aid might not have been comfortable working with him.

I suspected the day would soon be coming where they weren’t going to be able to handle him in that classroom or any other in that district, especially if the aide wasn’t a good match for him. And I had an equal confidence that I would be able to help him. So I pulled Tony and brought him home, where we have been engaged in an extensive program to help him develop more appropriate safety skills while working with others in public. The pandemic gave us some set backs there, but we are very near the point where we will be calling for an IEP meeting.

And when we do, based on everything I have experienced and heard from others in this area, I am expecting them to still look at me and say they’ve got this and that he doesn’t need one-to-one support (which he still does). I won’t believe it now anymore than I believed it then…but this time, the skills we’ve worked on growing should at least allow everyone to be safer there while we engage in ongoing discussions about what we are all willing to spend in regards to helping him attain his full developmental potential.

I don’t expect those conversations to be easy. There are limited resources because nobody wants to pay more taxes to adequately fund appropriate level of supports for individuals like my son. Many people can’t afford paying higher taxes in the first place. And so the parents stay silent…the community stays silent. And the silence breeds problems far more expensive in the end than they would have been if our special education programs were adequately funded in the first place.