School Bus, Early Days

September 25, 2007
The school bus (“foo bus”). Jackson has always liked busses, be it riding on them, seeing them go by, or in pictures, so we were not sure how he would take to taking the school bus to and from school. The first day we waited about two hours and the bus never came. Apparently they were running way late and called upstairs while we were waiting downstairs and, upon getting no answer, assumed we had given up. I had sent Ellen ahead and when we arrived, Jackson was the last one there and Ellen was very upset. She had talked to one other parent whose child had been in the same class with the same teacher the year before and had made little progress. Out of 8 children, 4 were/are non-verbal, and none seem to have the verbal intent that Jackson does. It is an ongoing problem, and the school moves at a glacial pace. I;ve inquired about the ability to switch classes and get different answers every time – sometimes from the same person! Jessica once said it was common, then told Ellen it was impossible, Elaine told me it would take a while to observe the classes but she would keep an eye out for Jackson, and our Social Worker said Jackson has one other peer in the class and that is enough. Maybe next year he can move to a 12:1 class. (If one is enough, isn’t 5 or 6 better? The thought of waiting 12 months sickens me – what a complete waste) Pulling him out is still a possibility, but one that I dread, not only due to the amount of work involved, but also because the therapists seem so good (speech, OT and PT) plus he gets music and art. I wonder what the other 8:1 classes are like. I need to call that father I know whose son, Wells, is in another 8:1 class.Back to the school bus. Poor Jack, a couple of weeks before his 3rd birthday, looking so small in his plaid shorts and Thomas backpack, had to get on the bus all by himself, get strapped in by a stranger, and get taken off to school. The first couple of weeks were heartbreaking – Bye Bye Daddy he would cry, as I handed him off and tried to look happy through the bus window so he would know it was all right. I cried the first couple of times too. It was the worst part of my day. Then on his return, I would usually see him before he saw me and, while most of the other kids were sleeping, he would be wide eyed and alert, as he usually is in a vehicle. Then he would see me, cry Hi Daddy, and then break into tears, mostly from being overwhelmed