Downs With Ups

I feel as if my soul has been ripped out of me. The last time I felt this way was when I saw Poppet’s little face through the bus window when she was in Prep, going on her first excursion. I watched the bus taking my child away from me. She was out of my control, my care and my protection and I felt completely vulnerable. It’s one thing to leave your child behind, but it’s quite another when they are ‘taken’ from you.

This time, Poppet was once again on a bus, although much older. For the first time today, Poppet caught the school bus to school. “Ooh look,” she exclaimed as it came around the corner. “It has rabbit ears,” she said, putting her hands up either side of her head, pretending to be the bus, (like the one in the photo). Poppet loves catching the bus.

It’s her second day of secondary school. I lay in bed last night staring at the ceiling until about 2.30 am, wondering why I couldn’t sleep.  I realised it was because I was anxious about how she’ll go this week at school. There have been a number of small ‘faults’ in the school that I’ve noticed, and these have caused me to lose a little of my trust in the people responsible for helping Poppet prepare for the adult world of work.  This exposed all my anxieties about Poppet fitting in and being assisted appropriately.

This morning for example, when I came home from dropping her off at the bus stop, I rang the school to see if there would be anyone at the other end to help Poppet make it to her classroom. No-one had told us about this and on the first day, after driving her to school, we waited to see the buses arrive. There didn’t appear to be anyone helping the new kids find their way.  The office staff are terrific I must say, answering my questions, but I figure it would be good to put ‘FAQs for first timers’ up on the school’s website.

I’m also circumspect about Poppet’s teacher. This is her first full-time teaching appointment, which I guess means she’ll be keen to make things work, but it also means she won’t know how the school ‘does things’.  As an example, at Orientation last year, I spoke with the year co-ordinator, who was enthusiastic and approachable. We spoke about setting learning goals for Poppet and she was happy that I’d take such a keen interest in Poppet’s learning. I jokingly said I didn’t want to be a problem parent; I just want Poppet to succeed, to which she replied, “I love problem parents when they’re so interested in what we do here.” When I mentioned learning goals to Poppet’s teacher however, I got a brisk, “I don’t know if we do that here.”

At Orientation, I also learned that Poppet would be in a class of 11, which is large for such a school.  I question this decision because Poppet will need extra help.  She is not their regular student and they have taken her on, knowing this.  She will be without an aide.  Poppet is going from a full-time aide in Grade 6 to no aide into Year 8.  She’ll also be with a bunch of kids who, like Poppet have lower than average IQ’s.  Poppet is used to a mainstream environment.  I’m not certain there is enough support for her to make this enormous transition.

Most of her fellow Year 8 students all attended the school through Year 7 last year, so know each other and how the school works. At Orientation, when the bell went for recess, all the kids left the room and Poppet was left behind, not knowing where to go or what to do. I would have expected her teacher to maybe ask one of the other students to show Poppet around or at the very least, show her herself, but this didn’t happen.  I had to ask about it.

That same day, when I came to collect Poppet, I was expecting an enthusiastic greeting from both Poppet and her teacher. “How did it go?” I asked, keen to here about all the good things that happened.

“Well, Poppet didn’t want to join in a game,” her teacher replied, with no attempt to hide her annoyance. “So I sat her in the shade until the end of the game. She’ll have to change that next year and be quicker at her work.”

What the f – – k, I thought. So much for a welcoming and enthusiastic orientation to the school. No wonder Poppet didn’t look very happy. I would have thought they’d go all out to make sure each student had a ball; that would ensure the kids would look forward to starting in the new year.  I have been concerned about this since. People have assured me things will work out to be okay and that Poppet’s happiness will be the gauge as to whether she is enjoying school or not.  I’ll just have to take each day as it comes.

We bumped in to her teacher at the end of the first day and I was looking forward to hearing a positive response.  Once again, she didn’t make any effort to conceal her feelings. She showed me how she had managed Poppet’s work, using pictures, which was wonderful. She’d even read a book I’d given her about how students with Down syndrome learn, which is great. But she seemed to have this thing about Poppet needing to speed things up. This just isn’t going to happen. That’s what Down syndrome does. It slows people down.

Poppet had also been in trouble for apparently teasing and upsetting a fellow student. From what Poppet told us, she was being ‘Harry Wormwood’, the nasty father from the story, ‘Matilda’. This is something she does; she acts out her feelings by taking on the persona of a movie character. I’ve written about this before in ‘Slobber’ (http://downswithups.com/slobber/).

Her teacher of course had to reprimand Poppet, who wouldn’t have upset this child deliberately; as an only child, she just doesn’t know the boundaries – yet. Sadly, she doesn’t have the language skills to explain herself either.

The troubling thing for me is that her teacher isn’t someone to whom I warming. She doesn’t seem to show any empathy and seems very task focussed. If we were looking at a DiSC Personality Profile, I reckon she’d be a classic ‘D’, meaning ‘strong-willed’, ‘forceful’ and ‘results-orientated’. Put these traits with Poppet and I’m not sure of the result we’ll get.

I honestly hope to develop a good relationship with this young woman.  Maybe it’s her anxiety about starting in a new position and possibly not knowing anything about students with Down syndrome, that’s affecting her behaviour towards us.  More importantly, I hope Poppet learns how to adjust to someone who, at the moment, is the antithesis of her previous teachers.

I guess we’ve been spoilt for the previous seven years while Poppet was at primary school. There she blossomed with such caring and understanding teachers, teachers who wanted Poppet to succeed, not just conform.

PS  I posted this yesterday in a whirl of emotions.  Although my feelings have subsided somewhat, my concerns still exist.  I’ll talk with Poppet’s teacher this week and the Year Co-ordinator to see if we can put in place some processes to assess how Poppet is going and some learning goals.  I’m sure they’ll be open to this.