Another story about living the fullness of life on the Spectrum
“With few words, one can speak the truth.” -- Byran Adams
Everything is Ausome
At home Calvin runs into the room and with gusto and a heartfelt yell declares, “I DON’T WANT TO GO TO DIAMOND RIDGE.”
Usually Calvin is very soft spoken, very often too quiet to hear. But this was a loud full sentence and a clear expression of his desires, both do not come naturally from Calvin who works hard daily on basic communication. “Level six” at Belmont Hills Elementary School, Calvin’s designation for 5th grade counting Kindergarten (“level one equals 2011 to 2012, Daddy”), celebrates the final year in elementary school with lots of traditions including a class trip to Diamond Ridge Camp ground in exotic Bucks County for a day of swimming, boating, zip lining, and other fun outdoor play.
In general, I am pleased he is sharing his feelings effectively. This time, however, my wife and I do not model good conversation. We only groan in reply. It is a few minutes after 5 AM, the “level six” of morning hours.
Surprisingly, I reluctantly rise to help him. It is a huge surprise to my wife, Patrice, who nearly always handles all overnight, odd hour childhood dramas. I usually snore through coughing fits, fever with vomiting, menacing cat fight shrieks, scary thunderstorms, and frequent, unexplained, insomnia typical in many kids who live on the Spectrum. It is Mom who serves and solves these dark time matters. But today I take a rare turn to calm him down.
He is too agitated to reason with and I am too groggy to be rational. But I need to try to diffuse his mood. I move the venue to his room and come up for the first time a way to distract him from his mission and give Patrice some more slumber. Reasoning with Calvin when he is in emotional turmoil never works, so I decided to use a secret weapon – a combination of technology, skills of Academy Award winning actor J.K. Simmons and the creativity of the Insurance industry to calm Calvin down.
We scrunched together over my small phone screen and watched implausible situations of home and car catastrophes in a YouTube run of Farmers Insurance commercials. Giggles, smiles and guffaws filled Calvin’s small bedroom as we watched dogs driving cars, deer in the swimming pool, gerbils crawling up pant legs, and the-Calvin-comedy-hit-of-all-times – dogs diving and synchronized swimming in a flooded living room. As we repeated the catchy jingle, we chase the blues away but did not yet solve the problem of this day's class trip.
Calvin is still reluctant to go on this class trip. I google images of the campground and show him a map from the school to the location. Calvin loves swimming and being outdoors. Calvin is a visual learner and these pictures, I hop will make him comfortable for the trip. But Calvin loves his regular school routine. He needs his routine. School is a comfort my child on the spectrum needs, and the environment of the school is soothing and necessary to him. The roster of amazing teachers, intelligent experts, loving and patient classroom aides, and the culture at his school has helped Calvin grow from a near mute Kindergarten child to joyful but serious 5thgrade student. At the four-week mark before the end of school Calvin brought home a note from school, “Calvin came in upset today and said, ’He looked at calendar and sad about school ending.’ He did get teary-eyed throughout the day.” This comment in his daily log book helped me feel connected to him because I was getting teary eyed lately about my little guy graduating the fifth grade, too.
Of course, my visual learner had recently published an independently created twenty-five page summary in pictures of the curriculum from grades one to five, or levels two to six in Calvin speak. He drew a summary of the special activities of his final year including the District wide Jr Olympics where Calvin helped his team win the tug-of-war and his first-place blue ribbon win on the track in a competitive heat. He had been reminiscing about his kindergarten year with a picture of his Kindergarten cohort – some who have moved on to other schools.
Although I dearly want him to join his classmates for a day of outdoor fun, I do offer him two choices - Go on the trip or stay in school. In order to make my case I explain that he may be the only 5th grade student in Science, Social Studies, Gym, French, Math, Lunch and Recess. As this clever argument comes out of my mouth I realize I may have described his nirvana – a school designed for exclusively and solely for him. I need a different approach so I desperately push swimming because he loves to swim. I wish I could offer a day of swimming with funny synchronized swimming canines, but the offer was out there.
He chooses the class trip. We pack a lunch, fill his book bag with a towel and a bathing suit. Between bites of breakfast I communicate by email with his teacher to form a plan -- and as always plan B. Plan B is a parent chauffeured trip to the campground if he buckles at getting on the bus. Once he got to the camp the activities will be irresistible.
He gets on the bus with his peers, but plan C goes into effect and Dad picks him up early. He had enough of the trip after scoring some ice cream after lunch. He chooses not to swim or zip line but observe most activities instead. I feel disappointed the he did not engage in the camp and shocked that he did not swim. But take solace that he self-reports he has a great day with a calm smile.
As soon as we get home he opens his 5th grade textbook and enters his dream world – his school of one. I sometimes fear this is a lonely place, but see it as his source of strength. It is a place where he takes the best from his elementary educators, the best from his imagination, and the best for his future, 6th grade – or should I say level “seven.”
Frank Kennedy, June 16, 2017