The Year of Living Hopefully

Yesterday my husband and I met with a quintet of professionals at Maddie’s school to discuss her attendance, or lack thereof. I’m pretty sure she’s missed at least 50% of the school days so far this year. Most of the time it was a result of my failed attempt to get her going (or alternatively, her successful attempts to resist). But for the last couple weeks I had just given up. I have talked about acceptance so much in the past, and tried to distinguish between that and giving up. There is definitely a difference. And this time, I was really just giving the hell up. I couldn’t take it one more day. After weeks and weeks of a migraine, I had started to think maybe I would just always and forever have a migraine, and that’s not acceptable. I had to give myself a break for once.

I didn’t have a particular outcome in mind when I anticipated this meeting. I just wanted a plan, any plan, whether it involved home schooling or online schooling or a high school proficiency exam in lieu of continuing school. Maybe she would in fact be done with high school and we could just move on to something else. What, exactly, I couldn’t fathom because the struggle is simply to get her to get out of bed and go somewhere on a somewhat regular basis. So would there be another somewhere she’d be more motivated to get to? Maybe–hopefully–someday, but certainly not now. So am I just trading in one headache (quite literally) for another, unknown, new and equally bad one? Who knows.

We showed up on this beautiful fall day and in the conference were the usual IEP team: Maddie’s teacher/case manager, the school psychologist, the assistant principal, her counselor and a teacher (in this case, her PE teacher, who mistakenly showed up our meeting instead of another IEP but gave his two cents anyway: “She’s great when she’s here!” The usual refrain.)

The meeting went like this:

Chris, what does her day look like when she’s not at school? Does she have access to electronics?

Well, normally I take stuff away, but the last couple weeks I had just given up. I let her do whatever she wanted. But I did hide her computer a few months ago and I just finally found it yesterday. (I failed to mention she’s just been using my laptop instead.)

Usually we advise making staying at home as boring as possible.

Madz doesn’t get bored. If she can’t use electronics she’ll craft, or work on a costume, or make a sword, or put stickers on her wall, or go pick flowers, or lie around with the cat.

(Looks of skepticism from the team. I know it’s the truth but I feel guilty anyway.)

Okay, what is the minimum she can go to school and still make it work? I asked.

Hmmm…that’s a very good question, they all agreed.

And it was a good question, because I do believe it led to the best possible solution that still involves going to school.

Thanks to this dedicated staff, who are always flexible and motivated to make things work, we decided to propose to Maddie a 2 1/2-day week, basically, beginning after Thanksgiving break. A shortened Monday, and then full days Wednesday and Friday. No two school days in a row. Hopefully having a recovery day in between school days will help. Hopefully a late start on Mondays will help. Hopefully, hopefully, hopefully.

Some months ago we installed a hot tub in the back yard. In addition to the usual benefits of a hot tub–muscle therapy and general relaxation–I have found an even more beneficial outcome, and that is the time I spend with Maddie. She loves the hot tub and nearly every night she invites me to join her for a soak. I always say yes. Always. It’s quiet and peaceful and we’re alone out there, so there is literally nothing to do but talk. And when you have a kid who’s not much of a chatterbox, or who finds expressing herself either challenging or unappealing, it’s a gift to have a half-hour chat each night.

Sometimes we talk about astronomy (she teaches me things, for I know nothing). Sometimes she utters a phrase to be funny, and I find it appalling, and then I have to tell her what it means so she can make better choices about saying that phrase again. Sometimes we talk about boys. And sometimes we talk about school or living skills or what she might like to do with herself in the future.

Tonight, after proposing the new and updated schedule, I mentioned, when I thought of it, that if she’s enrolled in her high school, she could go to prom. “Huh,” she responded, clearly interested. I told her about how when I was in school, students could only attend prom as part of a couple. Now, I said, you can go with friends.

“How does a date work?”

“Do you mean to prom? Are you thinking of Aaron?” I asked.

She nodded. Apparently there is a mutual crush thing going on between these two. I have not met him, but I do know they both love art and work together in the cafeteria (that’s another story). The have gotten to know each other well. I think they’re both a bit on the outside, but they found each other last year when they both spent lunchtime in their science teacher’s classroom.

“Does the boy ask the girl, or the girl ask the boy?” she asked. Such a different conversation from those I have with my 14-year-old son, who’s savvy enough to realize that an eighth-grade “relationship” isn’t really much of one, so he’d rather wait until high school, at least, when he can actually date.

I assured her that either way is perfectly acceptable, and I even suggested how she might ask very casually, so she wouldn’t feel too nervous. “Well, I told Colton I liked him,” she reminded me. Colton is a boy she knows from camp, and she somehow conjured up the nerve to say those words to him. I’m pretty sure his response was “thank you.” I don’t think he has any more experience dating than she does, so overall I think that went pretty well. However it had gone, I would be proud of her. Such courage to put yourself out there like that, not having any idea what the response would be!

Anyway, back to school. I’m hoping that with the modified schedule and the temptation of going to prom with Aaron, perhaps she can manage to get up and go enough to make it work. I’m feeling a teeny bit optimistic, uncharacteristically, but I think that’s perhaps more wishful thinking than anything. I just want this to work out so much, mostly because I think it’s the best thing for Maddie, but also because the idea of figuring out something else to do and then embarking on a whole new scenario is daunting. I’m not sure if that’s even the right word. Or maybe it is. Maybe daunting and depressing and just a giant bummer, just a new battle to fight, a new source of stress, a new source for migraines.

But for now, we have a plan. We’ll look into Plan B, which–for now, at least–does not include boarding school. I don’t even want to think about alternatives, but I have to be prepared for disappointment and frustration, and perhaps if I have a Plan B in my pocket, saying goodbye to Plan A won’t be so painful.

Fingers crossed, though. Fingers crossed.