I turned to Ward and asked, “Does that mean she has no control over the program?”
Ward responded with another question. “Why wouldn’t the special education department be part of the administration of an inclusive program?”
“Something is off.”
“I agree. It’s like the inclusion piece is a secret. But from whom? The education department, the teacher, or us?”
Ward took Thorin to school the next day. Mrs. Updike was less than thrilled when she saw Thorin.
“I thought maybe he wasn’t coming back.”
Ward asked Thorin, “Hey, Dude. Can you go to the library while I talk with your aide?” Thorin was out of earshot before he turned to Mrs. Updike and said, “What’s the problem?”
“I don’t know how to work with a Down syndrome person.”
“A person with Down syndrome.”
“That’s what I said.”
“No you didn’t. He’s a child who has Down syndrome. He’s not Down syndrome.”
“They’re sending a consultant for you and the teacher. That should help Thorin,” Ward said, not hiding his disgust.
When I picked up Thorin, he ran from me through the open theater door on the other side of the hallway. He sat on the stage.
“What are you doing?”
“No.”
“You don’t want to tell me?”
“No.”
I went up to him and said, politely, “Please come with me.”
He stood up and pressed himself against the back wall. I knelt down. I went to pull him toward me. He brought his arm down on my head so hard my glasses fell off.
“Thorin! What’s happening?” I asked, shaking.
This was not Thorin. I fought back tears. Eventually, he let me lead him outside and told me he didn’t want to go back to school.
“Thorin, I’m sorry. I am. Daddy and I can fix this.”
“No!”
“A woman is coming to help, okay?”
He didn’t respond, but his day did get better; we went to see Bubba. Ward and I talked it over when we got home.
“I understand he’s frustrated, but he doesn’t get to call the shots.”
“Right, but this isn’t the program we were promised. It’s a shit show there,” I said.
“Kari, I don’t think we have an alternative. Do we?”
“No.”
What neither of us could acknowledge was that Thorin was changing. He had never hit anyone like that. Behavior is communication. What was he trying to tell us?
It wasn’t just the staff that was the problem. The next day, I talked to some kids at the school about staring, pointing, and making funny faces at Thorin. I also notified his teacher.
“Well no one knows him so they’re curious,” she said smiling weakly.
I was furious. “Those gestures don’t indicate curiosity.”
“I don’t know what else it could be.”
Was I bumping up against her ingrained sense of deniability? The school had colorful posters stating it was a bully-free zone. I guess if staff members play ignorant to actions constituting bullying then, voilà, you have a bully-free zone!
I met the teacher consultant, Marie, the following day. She seemed to be getting herself up to speed quickly. She told me she had read Thorin’s school records and had already talked to his aide, Mrs. Updike.
Referring to Mrs. Updike she explained, “I can try to educate her but . . .”
“Okay, I get it.”
“I’m going to his regular school to get some more information. I’ll fill you in.”
She called me later that day. “Did you know they have two kindergarten and first grade summer classes going on there? There’s six or seven students in each.”
“I knew there was one with some kids from his kindergarten class.”
“Why wasn’t he placed there?”
I gave her the details.
“That’s where he should have been,” she said. “It’s perfect for him—his school, students he knows, small class size.”
Before I contacted Joan Croft and Thorin’s principal, I called the school district’s grant manager. I told her what program we had been promised, including the name of the foundation funding the project, all according to Joan Croft. I could hear the strain in her voice.
“We did get a grant from that foundation, but it isn’t for the program you described. I’m not aware of that program.”
“They just stuck him in that classroom without planning, preparation, or supports! That’s not right,” I told her.
“I’m sorry. I don’t have anything to do with that.”
It was so hard to believe we had been lied to. I couldn’t compute it. I felt stalled.
When I went to get Thorin, I was told he refused to go into his classroom. Between Marie, the speech therapist, and occupational therapist, they figured out his day for him, away from class. We requested Thorin be moved to his regular school. We were told he would not have an aide because Mrs. Updike needed to stay where she was. We didn’t want her anyway—a trained monkey would have exhibited more grace and skill. In a desperate move, I emailed Ms. Charles to tell her what was going on. My subject heading read “PLEASE HELP ME.”
A few hours later, she emailed with her phone number. When we talked, she explained she would co-teach one of the summer school classes, so Thorin would have enough support to participate. Her focus would be for Thorin to learn—and to love school again. She gave up two weeks of her summer break to do this for him. The tears started, and I could barely get out my thanks.
“I wouldn’t do this for anyone, but it’s Thorin.”
“You get him,” I said crying.
“I do.”
I told Thorin about going back to his school and working with Ms. Charles.
“Good!” he said.
“Are you excited to go back with her?”
“Yesith!”
When I dropped Thorin off with Ms. Charles, she and I both had tears in our eyes. Thorin ran for a hug. He was back in good hands. Ward and I were still furious Thorin had been placed in such a destructive environment.
“Inclusion is not a sink or swim situation! They have to believe it’s an important model. They have to support it,” I
