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Standing on the East Coast, pointed toward California, and clicking my heels three times

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Goodbye, Matthew's School

Today was my kids' last day of school. Tessa will be back next year, so she said goodbye to her friends and the ladies in the office, knowing she will see them again in the fall. Matthew will not be back.

It should have been more of a farewell, somehow. Some people did hug him good-bye, like the school psychologist who loves him so dearly, but there wasn't much time. I had to rush the kids home, feed them a quick lunch, and rush us back in the car to drop off Tessa at a birthday party, 45 minutes early. Matthew and I needed to be at the school that houses the autism program, to meet with the teachers. I was told we should go through with this visit, even though there is no room for Matthew in the program. It went pretty well, and it's a truly wonderful class. It would be great for Matthew, but it's full. That's part of the beauty of the class: there are only 8 kids, with two full-time aides (one of whom is a licensed teacher). Four of the kids are continuing from last year. Three are moving up from the younger grades, from a similar class in the program. That left one spot for new intakes, and they actually accepted two, though that put them over their official limit. So the likelihood of a spot opening up for Matthew is very, very slim. Why they included this program in our intake, when it was probably already full, is beyond me.

So the last day of school was sort of weird, filled with uncertainty rather than closure. That is so unfortunate, after the terribly hard year Matthew has had. His report card came back with no marks for this last grading period, except for science, because he just did so little work that his teacher felt he couldn't give him marks.

For the first two years we lived here, every time we drove by the school (which was often, since it's only a half mile from our house and on the way to the downtown area), Tessa would say, "Hi, Matthew's school!" When she entered kindergarten, she still said it, even though it was also her school at that point.

It's not Matthew's school anymore. He doesn't have a school, and it feels like he's been cast adrift.
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