Grade 5 - the nightmare begins...

I held a great deal of hope that THIS would be the year that S was going to turn around. We had the knowledge of his learning disabilities, we knew why he wasn't doing as well at school as he should have...it could only improve.


The beginning of Grade 5 for S started with a big change in the school. A new principal. I went in to the school the week before school began to discuss the findings of the pysho-ed assessment, to provide some detailed information about my little man, and to start a plan of attack for the new school year. When I came home that day, I told hubby that she (I'll call her Ms. B) was going to be great. Ms. B came from a much larger district, and just gave me the impression that she appreciated an involved parent, and would do all she could to help him succeed. (Side note, as I retell this story, please remember that this was the year from hell from the A-man)


The beginning of school - S had the same teacher as the year before. I thought this was good because she knew him, she was aware of his learning problems, and she would be able to ensure some new strategies were in place for him. The start of the year - as always - was great. I love the honeymoon stage of the school year. Within a month, however, S started to complain about a few kids being really mean to him. It was always the same names. I would talk about it with him, and we would come up with ways to either avoid the situation, or how to improve upon things. The one black spot on the start of the school year was the IEP that came home in September.


I was LIVID with that document. I remember sitting down and writing a very long letter expressing my concerns about the fact that I had not been consulted about the preparation of the IEP, and at my concern about the training the teacher that had prepared it. (He had been in our school for years, but had never done Special Ed - I didn't think he was trained to do this job, and demanded to know his qualifications.) Within two days of sending that letter, I received a phone call from the Spec Ed Teacher asking me to come in for a meeting to discuss S's educational needs and to assist with formulating his IEP.


When I went to the meeting, I was all prepared to see that the recommendations from the psyco-ed were all addressed. With every single special need I mentioned, I was told by the Spec Ed teacher that either he didn't have time to do that, or that it simply couldn't be done. I was starting to learn the resources were slim to nil, and it appeared to me that our Spec Ed teacher wasn't will to provide what S was going to need. Finally, after a lengthy meeting, we were able to formulate a document that I was somewhat satisfied with, and hoped would be able to provide for my 10 year old.


The school year carried on. Sometime around Christmas I received a phone call from Ms. B telling me that S had a major incident in the classroom. The teacher had been forced to put the class in 'lockdown' because of his actions, and someone needed to come and take him home. My mother in law was able to get to the school the fastest, and when she got there, the class was all in library and S was with the principal in the classroom. He was still very aggitated, but went out quietly with MIL. When I talked about the incident with S, he told me that LB, and Tay had been really bugging him prior to his explosion, and although he had exhausted the resources he and I had come up with, they continued, and he just snapped. He had received a suspension for this behaviour. LB and Tay were the ones that had started picking on him earlier in the school year, and it was almost a daily occurence that I heard either one or both of these names over the dinner table.


The days limped in to the spring. The week before March Break, I receive yet another phone call, telling me that the class has (again) been put in lockdown, and I needed to come and get S from school. He was suspended (again) and this time the principal was ticked because she was getting phone calls from angry parents. They didn't like the fact that "one child was holding the entire class hostage." I didn't either. My feelings then (and still now) were that the teacher took very extreme action that could have been avoided. S weighed all of 60 pounds, and was about 4 feet tall - not exactly a strapping young man. Add in the fact that there was a male EA in the classroom, and I could not quite understand how something could get so out of hand so quickly. Had I been there, I would have simply taken S by the arm, and removed HIM from the classroom rather than forcing 27 children between two sets of doors for 20 minutes. Again, upon very LONG discussions with my son, I determined that the blow up was a directly result of non-stop bugging from both LB and Tay. I was really starting to dislike these boys.

S started to talk about killing himself around this point in time. At first I thought he was simply being dramatic, but after a number of re-occuring comments, I had started to seek out a doctor for help. There was a BIG waiting list (about a year, I was advised) so we joined the list. I utilized hubby's medical plan, and found a temporary therapist that would see S for about 5 sesssions.

While all of this was happening within the school, I was seeking additional outside support. Our family services agency had discharged us, stating they had done all they could for us - our worker commented that I had taken so many courses I could start TEACHING them. They felt that as a family unit we had done all we could, and felt the problems that were occurring now were problems within the school, and the school needed to address them. I had started attending monthly information sessions held by the LDAO (learning disabilities association of ontario) and the ADHD group in the city. These weren't the typical "oh my life is so hard..." gripe sessions - these were professionals coming in to discuss various subjects on a monthly basis. One of these meetings had a presenter come in that talked about a group session for kids like mine called "Fair Play." It was run by Social and Youth Workers, and would incorporate learning strategies through play with other kids. I enrolled S in to this program for the Spring session.

Shortly after the second 'lockdown' incident at the school, S started his "Fair Play" group sessions. He did amazing! He made a lot of friends very quickly - which he had been losing at school due to his recent outbursts - and he was a very kind, considerate and helpful to all of the other participants and leaders of the group. He was given the "Awesome Kid" award for something he had done on the first session. I started to have hope that he was just experiencing a blip on the radar at the school, and THIS boy, this S at Fair Play, was going to emerge at the school. Since his 'dying' comments continued, we started to have a 'play therapist' come in and work with Stephen once a week. It was expensive, but if it was going to help him work through some of his anxiety and issues, we felt it would be worth it.

On the first of May, S turned 11. On the third of May, I received a frantic phone call from the principal. Apparently S had tried to jump in front of a moving bus, and when she grabbed him to safety, he clawed at her, and took off from the school grounds. The police were trying to locate him, and I needed to get to the school immediately. When I arrived at the school, a very sullen S was sitting in the principal's office with Ms. B, one police officer, and one volunteer community police officer. He was being questioned by the police officer when I arrived. Was that even legal? Anyway, the police deemed this incident to be an attempted suicide, and contacted the Children's Aide Society. I tried to explain to the officer that I was very much aware of the seriousness of the situation, that his name was already on a waiting list for medical help, and tried to reiterate that contacting CAS was neither necessary, nor would it be helpful. The officer felt that by starting a file, we would receive support faster. I realized I would not be able to change her mind, and left her to make her phone call. While she was doing so, Ms. B and the volunteer officer were having a conversation with S. What happened next will be forever etched in my brain.

Ms. B went on a tangent with S, and told him (and yes, this is a direct quote that I will NEVER forget) "... (his) teacher was sick of his behaviour, (his) classmates were sick of his behaviour, (his) mother was sick of his behaviour, (SHE) was sick of his behaviour, and it was time for him to GROW UP AND BE A MAN!" To this, S replied "But I'm not a man" and she told him "Well, BE a man." After this comment, I was finally able to find my voice, and I interupted them. I have no idea what I said, I simply knew I needed to stop this insane conversation. Ms. B then informed S that he was suspended from school for a week, and from the bus "until she said so!" Yeah, that was really going to help.

The police officer returned from making her phone call to CAS and asked me if I was willing to take S to the hospital for observation. I said I was. She was glad I said that, because she told me later that had I said I wouldn't take him to the hospital, she would have been forced to arrest him, and take him to the hospital in the police car. This made me realize what stupid laws we sometimes have in this country. Anyway, the officer called ahead to the hospital to inform them we were coming, and then followed me to the hospital. I guess whoever she spoke to hadn't informed the Triage nurse of our arrival, and we sat in the Emerg waiting room for a while. S was fine at this point. He played video games, watched some TV, or just sat calmly and ate his sandwich. Both officers remained with us. Finally a doctor took S (and me and the officers) to a private room. The doctor talked to S, trying to assess his frame of mind. Needless to say, *I* was a mess at this point, but I was doing all I could to keep it together. I had called hubby at work, so he was very much aware of the situtation, and ready to go where needed whenever it was determined. I had made arrangements to have the A-man over at a neighbour's house.

After talking to S, the doctor felt he needed to be transfered to another facility where he would be able to receive the medical attention that was necessary. He asked me if I would be willing to take S to whatever hospital would take him, and I said I would. He commented that he thought I would - which I found to be a strange comment at the time, but apparently some parents will refuse to do this sort of thing. Anyway, I left the room to call hubby and inform him that we would be transfering S to another facility with doctors that could help him get through these thoughts. When I returned to the Emerg, the doctor stopped me to tell me that no hospital would take S. There was no room for him, apparently. So, he said, "I am going to release him to your care" but he recommended that we take S to XX hospital - about an hour and a half away - and basically go through the whole "emerg" proceedure again. He said they could refuse a transfer from another hospital, but they had to see him if we took him ourselves. I said we would do that. I returned to the room and told the officers that nothing futher was going to be done, that he was going to be released, and they did not believe me. When the doctor confirmed this, the police officer was amazed.

I called hubby - he had made arrangements to leave work - and we made arrangements to take the A-man to his Grandparents, and hubby and I were taking S to XX hospital. We had no idea what was going to happen next, or how long we would be at the hospital.

Okay - that is MORE than enough for now. My gut is killing me.