Here is a copy of a letter I wrote to my darling Bear today - I think it summarizes how I am feeling right now:
"Got your message today. Thanks.
I'm really not upset about him having Aspergers, I'm really not. I guess it just TICKS ME OFF that I have two wonderful children - beautiful boys, really - that have to go through all of the FREAKING learning issues. They are both so bright - hell, the A-man is 5 IQ points off of being classed as 'gifted' - and they just have to struggle all of the time, to do just the simplest of daily things.
Do you know S can't tie his shoes? Now we know why - right side of brain affects fine motor skills.
For years I have struggled with them being suspended from school, from the bus, causing problems here, there and everywhere. Skating coaches created routines that work around my boys' non-compliance. Total strangers making the "God, I wouldn't want to be THAT kid's mother" while they are pointing at one of my children. You know how many times I have had to call you to see if you could keep S while I went to work, and for 4 years prior to that, I was HOME and able to keep them with me.
So, we find out S has ADHD and multiple learning disorders. I learn about them. Then we discover he has a Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Back to the books. He is so stressed out at school, he tries to jump in front of a bus. I cope - voice my displeasure with the Principal's attitude, get counselling for him, enrol him in Play Therapy, fend off CAS, yadda, yadda, yadda.
Two days after the bus incident, our family doctor tells me he thinks the A-man has Tourette's. Fine. We see the paediatrician, and move onward to Toronto. Yup, Tourette's, ADHD and Rage. Okay, ADHD I know - the rest, I learn. The A-man, for the most part, becomes an entirely different, more responsible child. In Grade 8, his teacher even comments that she would take a classroom full of the A-man's, as he is such a delight! I almost started to cry - since I was at the school dealing with, yet another, S incident.
Following school year, more issues for S. I address as I need to - involve a lawyer, the school superintendent, the trustee. Principal is suspended, more resources are put in place for S - specialized bussing, a full time EA. Computer is suddenly allowed home for homework, and now more programs have been added - and he has been TRAINED!! (crazy concept, really - giving a child a laptop and also teaching him how to use the software...)
So, finally, after years and years of struggling, we are starting to see an improvement. Sure, there are still struggles on occasion, but they are farther and farther between, and less severe than in the past. His report card still say he needs to improve his "cooperation with others", and his "conflict resolution"... we read that each time and think "Yeah, whatever." For the past number of years, the problems have ONLY been at school - the home issues were resolved through the various tips/techniques/training we did through private assistance. Respite weekends were a God-send, I will admit.
And now we can add Aspergers and Non-verbal learning disability to the gammet. Will it end?
I think that is where I am right now - will I ever STOP hearing another 'diagnosis' for either of my sons? I have never been one to hold on to 'labels' of disorders - you know that. Hell, I could have a flipping rheumatology book named after me!, yet I never dwell. Never have, never will. But I feel - so very strongly - that I must educate myself on anything and everything that affects my sons. So, back to the books.
I am tired."
Showing posts with label CAS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label CAS. Show all posts
Friday, March 7, 2008
Thursday, August 30, 2007
I don't know why, but I am just feeling the need to get this section of the story over with. I am being very detailed with this, and I don't want to miss any points of what happened and when. It's almost like this will help to ease my mind or something...just get it out, and then be done. Either that, or it is because I gave myself until the school year begins again, and I know I won't be home after tomorrow afternoon.
Okay, so back to the story. The A-man was at Grandparents, and hubby and I started the ninety minute drive to xx hospital. We arrived there around 8 or 8:30, I would say. Maybe a bit earlier, but I'm pretty sure it was just after 8. Anyway, the emerg waiting room was packed. Once we were actually able to get a seat - we sat, and sat, and sat. S feel asleep with his head in my lap. Finally, at about 10:30 or so a youth worker person from the psychiatric unit came to see us. We had to wake S up so that she could talk to him. She asked a number of questions - and it was determined that this entire incident occurred because LB had been tormenting S out of the school, on the way to the bus, had then had pushed him in to the wall, called him names, etc. S's little feelings were very hurt when he got on the bus, and then another child on the bus started bugging him, and that is when he ran off the bus and tried to run in front of another one. The fact that S was sleeping when she first saw him deemed that he was not a "child in crisis", therefore they would not admit him. She explained to hubby and I that their pediatric psych unit only worked with children that were "in crisis" and once they were no longer in that state, they would be released. She told us that she could admit him, but she knew that in the morning the doctor would see him and simply release him. We were stunned. Sad as it was to admit, she told us that children in this state often do not receive help until they have actually caused self-harm. She said that it is a terrible cycle that tends to repeat more and more. Child in crisis, admitted, receives help, discharged, two weeks later... back in crisis, and admitted again. Talk about feeling helpless. So we went home. I guess we got back home some time around 1am.
In the morning I decided I was NOT going to be helpless - nor was my son. My first call was to the CAS person that had established our case file. I told her the results of our visits, provided a brief family history, etc., and she told me that she and her supervisor felt the police officer had jumped the gun a little bit in contacting them. She said that it was obvious from speaking with me that I was a very strong advocate for S, and as far as they were concerned there would be no need for any follow up from CAS. I was relieved, to say the least. I explained that the police officer felt S would receive help faster through their agency, and she told me, point blank "There are no services for children this age." However, that said, she did provide me with the telephone number of a doctor that wasn't too far from us, that specialized in children and adolecents. My next call was to this doctor's office. I was able to speak to the receiptionist. I told her about the incident, and what that I was hoping to self-refer my son, etc., etc. She took our information, told me she would talk to the doctor, and would be in touch. My next phone call was to the school to ask that they inform the A-man that we were home, S was safe, and he was to take the bus home, as he would normally. (I knew he would be very worried about his brother. I called around 10 am, but the message was not passed on to him until 3:20 pm.)
Next I called the police officer to let her know the details of the evening, and to let her know what CAS had determined. In a way I wanted to say "I told you so..." but what was the point? I'm pretty sure she figured it out. Next I asked how I could obtain a copy of the police report, and for information about the volunteer officer that was in the room when Ms. B lost it on poor wee S.
My next call was to the superintendent of the school. I was not able to speak with her directly, but I did have quite the conversation with her secretary about the lack of compassion and understanding that was running our fine school. She said she would bring these details to the attention of the superintendent.
Next, I called S's play therapist to fill her in on the previous day's events. We set up a couple of appointments for during the 5 days he would be out of school. Although I felt the suspension was ridiculous, she and I both felt that he was in a very fragile state, and staying home was probably the best thing for him at that time.
Eventually I had to face going in to work, and I did so. I am still not sure how I was able to put on my work face, and still get through the days. I know that the month of May was totally lost to me - I have very few memories that didn't involve this situation.
When I was home again, I started to prepare a letter to Ms. B to let her know my feeling on the entire event. I was very upset that LB was not going to be dealt with for his role in the entire incident, and I demanded that she apologize to S for her very inappropriate comments. When I gave her the letter, we exchanged some words, I was very upset (obviously) but she told me, point blank, that she would not apologize to S, that she meant what she said - "He does need to grow up" - and she actually appeared hurt that I would come in making such demands when she had done nothing but work with me for the entire school year. That did it for me. I was able to compose myself, and get back to a somewhat resonable state of mind, but any form of respect I had for that woman was shattered in to a million pieces. There is zero chance of that ever being repaired.
So, S completed his five days at home. He had a couple sessions of therapy in the home, and we could see his state of mind starting to go back to normal. As the time drew closer, he was really nervous about going back to school. He figured no one would like him anymore, and no one would be nice to him. I attended his re-entry meeting with Ms. B. Again, it was very hard to sit and be pleasant when I was so upset with her actions during the entire incident.
A few days later, I received a phone call from the school board psyciatrist to see if she could offer any services, or to suggest services for us to persue. The principal had not contacted her about the incident - which is what I first thought - the superintendent's secretary had told her about my phone call and felt that perhaps we were "a family in need" and could use information about what types of programs are out there. After a very lengthy conversation - well over an hour - she realized that if there was a course out there, I had already taken it, and if there was a waiting list to be on, I was on it. She knew the doctor that I had contacted, and told me she would contact him to see if S would be able to get in sooner - given the serverity of the incident. We were in to see the doctor by the beginning of June.
The doctor requested a meeting with a number of board members prior to the school year's end, but of course, the principal was unable to attend. The meeting was held about 2 weeks before the school year ended, with the hopes that his next year - Grade 6 - would be better. The doctor spent a great deal of time explaining what an anxiety disorder was, how ADHD affected learning, and how S's multiple LD's would affect him. They all seemed to take notes, take the recommendations to heart, and seemed willing to work with us for the next year. And, again, another school year saw zero results or improvements.
Okay, so back to the story. The A-man was at Grandparents, and hubby and I started the ninety minute drive to xx hospital. We arrived there around 8 or 8:30, I would say. Maybe a bit earlier, but I'm pretty sure it was just after 8. Anyway, the emerg waiting room was packed. Once we were actually able to get a seat - we sat, and sat, and sat. S feel asleep with his head in my lap. Finally, at about 10:30 or so a youth worker person from the psychiatric unit came to see us. We had to wake S up so that she could talk to him. She asked a number of questions - and it was determined that this entire incident occurred because LB had been tormenting S out of the school, on the way to the bus, had then had pushed him in to the wall, called him names, etc. S's little feelings were very hurt when he got on the bus, and then another child on the bus started bugging him, and that is when he ran off the bus and tried to run in front of another one. The fact that S was sleeping when she first saw him deemed that he was not a "child in crisis", therefore they would not admit him. She explained to hubby and I that their pediatric psych unit only worked with children that were "in crisis" and once they were no longer in that state, they would be released. She told us that she could admit him, but she knew that in the morning the doctor would see him and simply release him. We were stunned. Sad as it was to admit, she told us that children in this state often do not receive help until they have actually caused self-harm. She said that it is a terrible cycle that tends to repeat more and more. Child in crisis, admitted, receives help, discharged, two weeks later... back in crisis, and admitted again. Talk about feeling helpless. So we went home. I guess we got back home some time around 1am.
In the morning I decided I was NOT going to be helpless - nor was my son. My first call was to the CAS person that had established our case file. I told her the results of our visits, provided a brief family history, etc., and she told me that she and her supervisor felt the police officer had jumped the gun a little bit in contacting them. She said that it was obvious from speaking with me that I was a very strong advocate for S, and as far as they were concerned there would be no need for any follow up from CAS. I was relieved, to say the least. I explained that the police officer felt S would receive help faster through their agency, and she told me, point blank "There are no services for children this age." However, that said, she did provide me with the telephone number of a doctor that wasn't too far from us, that specialized in children and adolecents. My next call was to this doctor's office. I was able to speak to the receiptionist. I told her about the incident, and what that I was hoping to self-refer my son, etc., etc. She took our information, told me she would talk to the doctor, and would be in touch. My next phone call was to the school to ask that they inform the A-man that we were home, S was safe, and he was to take the bus home, as he would normally. (I knew he would be very worried about his brother. I called around 10 am, but the message was not passed on to him until 3:20 pm.)
Next I called the police officer to let her know the details of the evening, and to let her know what CAS had determined. In a way I wanted to say "I told you so..." but what was the point? I'm pretty sure she figured it out. Next I asked how I could obtain a copy of the police report, and for information about the volunteer officer that was in the room when Ms. B lost it on poor wee S.
My next call was to the superintendent of the school. I was not able to speak with her directly, but I did have quite the conversation with her secretary about the lack of compassion and understanding that was running our fine school. She said she would bring these details to the attention of the superintendent.
Next, I called S's play therapist to fill her in on the previous day's events. We set up a couple of appointments for during the 5 days he would be out of school. Although I felt the suspension was ridiculous, she and I both felt that he was in a very fragile state, and staying home was probably the best thing for him at that time.
Eventually I had to face going in to work, and I did so. I am still not sure how I was able to put on my work face, and still get through the days. I know that the month of May was totally lost to me - I have very few memories that didn't involve this situation.
When I was home again, I started to prepare a letter to Ms. B to let her know my feeling on the entire event. I was very upset that LB was not going to be dealt with for his role in the entire incident, and I demanded that she apologize to S for her very inappropriate comments. When I gave her the letter, we exchanged some words, I was very upset (obviously) but she told me, point blank, that she would not apologize to S, that she meant what she said - "He does need to grow up" - and she actually appeared hurt that I would come in making such demands when she had done nothing but work with me for the entire school year. That did it for me. I was able to compose myself, and get back to a somewhat resonable state of mind, but any form of respect I had for that woman was shattered in to a million pieces. There is zero chance of that ever being repaired.
So, S completed his five days at home. He had a couple sessions of therapy in the home, and we could see his state of mind starting to go back to normal. As the time drew closer, he was really nervous about going back to school. He figured no one would like him anymore, and no one would be nice to him. I attended his re-entry meeting with Ms. B. Again, it was very hard to sit and be pleasant when I was so upset with her actions during the entire incident.
A few days later, I received a phone call from the school board psyciatrist to see if she could offer any services, or to suggest services for us to persue. The principal had not contacted her about the incident - which is what I first thought - the superintendent's secretary had told her about my phone call and felt that perhaps we were "a family in need" and could use information about what types of programs are out there. After a very lengthy conversation - well over an hour - she realized that if there was a course out there, I had already taken it, and if there was a waiting list to be on, I was on it. She knew the doctor that I had contacted, and told me she would contact him to see if S would be able to get in sooner - given the serverity of the incident. We were in to see the doctor by the beginning of June.
The doctor requested a meeting with a number of board members prior to the school year's end, but of course, the principal was unable to attend. The meeting was held about 2 weeks before the school year ended, with the hopes that his next year - Grade 6 - would be better. The doctor spent a great deal of time explaining what an anxiety disorder was, how ADHD affected learning, and how S's multiple LD's would affect him. They all seemed to take notes, take the recommendations to heart, and seemed willing to work with us for the next year. And, again, another school year saw zero results or improvements.
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.
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.
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