I have three sped (special education) children. One is pretty high functioning with support, one is just getting her feet wet and supports haven’t been well identified yet, and one is low functioning even with all the support they throw at him. I use “support” here in the way that the school and federal/state education boards use the term. To me, accommodation is a better term. My kids are assessed and have goals established and evaluated constantly. Still, all three of my sped kids are pretty behind when compared with their peers. There are good reasons not to compare kids, and I try not do so either, but once in a while I sit back and think, “how would my life look differently if these three kiddo were more typical?” The honest answer is that something else would take the place of my current worries/troubles/challenges, but sometimes I think it might be nice to worry about those things instead of the things that I do.

Just a little bit ago Jon was sitting with Wes on a zoom call that was meant to serve as a math assessment. It was painful for me to set over at my desk and watch, and it was painful for Jon to sit next to Wes powerless to aid in any way. The teacher certainly couldn’t say, but I would bet my life on the fact the he might use the word “painful” to describe the interaction also. Wes, however, was gleeful as he jabbered on about anything that came to his mind. Inadvertently he answered a couple questions right, he did demonstrate a few skills that he actually has, and his “jabbering” was on topic - mostly number songs that he made up. Every 30 seconds the teacher tried in vain to reestablish Wes’ attention, which mostly failed until Jon intervened. Usually with a physical and verbal cue about where his attention needed to be. Many things that Wes actually does know, were not demonstrated because who could stay on topic through all of that to get down to what it means to subtract two numbers. (He can subtract basic 0-9 numbers, sometimes. But I don’t think he really understands what it means to “take away” or “subtract” or “minus”.)

So far, comprehensive distance learning has meant hours (4hrs in increments of 55 min) of Wes sitting in front of his iPad while the world zoomed (literally) in front of him. The speaking in these classes goes so fast that Wes cannot seem to keep up with what is being said. By the time he has heard, then interpreted, then prepared a response, the class is onto something else. When he is called on to answer a question, it takes 3-5 minutes for him to articulate his ideas. Sometimes because it took that long for him to get the courage to speak, and often because it takes that long for him to form the thought and the language to express it. When he does finally speak, he needs to be taught how to turn on the microphone over and over, and he speaks so quietly that almost no one, even us sitting next to him, can hear it. My boy who is often outspoken and inappropriately loud, is completely shy and intimidated by the concept of speaking on the computer.

For my other kids, I keep them on schedule, but they are able to find and log into their classes on their own. They need me to ask about what homework they have and if it is done, or guide them in determining how their time should be used. But Wes, he needs someone to take him to his work area, turn on and navigate the device, listen to the class and redirect his attention every minute or so, engage him IRL in the topics that are being discussed online. He needs to be prompted to listen to what is being said, and begged and rewarded to sit up, not mess around with the screens, and stop talking (to the aid, because he won't talk to the class). On a good day, this is all that is required, he might even try to answer some questions, but most days are not so easy. He screams, cries, throws his body down, lays his head on the table and covers it with a blanket. When I say “aid” I mean parent or PSW (Keaton- who is amazing and patient and I don’t know what I would do without her!!)

Our school district identified early that in person school would not be a reality at the start of this year. Jon and I support this concept, as most students should not be in school while the pandemic remains out of control. At the same time, Wes is not learning in this environment. We do not have the resources to maintain this level of support at home, and our district seems deaf to the difficulty. I attended three Zoom meetings before school started around services for students with special education needs. I had countless emails with Wes’ teachers to voice my concerns. I see them doing everything that they can within the confines of the directives from Oregon department of Education. It’s just not enough.

Ava has not had any contact from her special ed supports beyond an email with instructions for setting up audiobooks from he library… which we already a have three audiobook applications where she can get books for leisure reading. What she needs is support around organizing her work and figuring out how to complete things. She needs remediation in math and practice using her reading skills that her tutor has been working on.

Taylor needs much of the same support as Ava, but in a way that will make him a successful high school student. He needs someone to highlight how that is different from being a middle school student. He needs some guidance around how to navigate this and how to keep up. Taylor has had no communication from his supports. I have no clue how anyone is “supporting” Taylor as outlined in his IEP.

In CDL, the concept of support is foreign. There is no special education, there is just one kind of education, and it presumes a lot of skills. It also presumes a lot help from parents. It is not hard for me to see how this education exposes disparities for all sorts of children.