Harness

Our older son refuses to plant his rear end on the seat of his bus.

"Do you have a problem on the bus?" His speech therapist asked him one day during their regular session. She is often our best person to figuring out what he is thinking. She would ask him a series of "yes" or "no" questions, holding up picture symbols for him to point to for his answer. As with their conversation regarding the bus, I find out what he is thinking by reading a transcript provided for me in his notebook at the end of the day.

"No," he answered by pointing to a picture symbol she held in her hand.

"Do other people have a problem with you and the bus?" She then asked him.

"Yes," he answered.

Why that little so-and-so!!

"Do you really think it is other people who have the problem?" She asked.

"Yes," he answered by pointing to a card.

"Is sitting that way all that important to you?" She asked.

"No," he said.

Gasp!

"Does it bother you that people are upset with you?" She pressed.

"No," he replied.

"Do you plan to change what you are doing?" She probed further.

"No," he answered.


I couldn't believe what I was reading. On one hand, the level of communication our son had with this woman was so delicious, and so NORMAL that I wanted to cry! Yet, his defiance was so maddening at the same time. I didn't know whether to scold him or hug him.

Either way, it was clear, he was getting his jollies by trying to lie on his belly on the seat of the bus. Seemingly, he enjoyed our stress level, and he didn't give a hoot about any token system put in place to curb the behavior.

It was HIS behavior, and he was owning it.

Silently, I was celebrating his spirit. Quietly, I was applauding his pre-teen expression. Typical behavior is a rarity around here.

However, I was careful to not share my delight with him.

"YOU GET ON THAT BUS AND SIT DOWN ON YOUR BUM, YOUNG MAN!" I strongly urged him every morning.

After much coaxing, he'd be in place. I'd back off the bus, hold my breath and say a quick prayer. Then, I'd turn around and head to the house, ready to make the first of several phone calls to fight for what rights my son does have to act like a jerk.

Some rights he doesn't have. And, here is where I am struggling.

The lines are blurry, and administrators don't want to draw them where parents want them to be drawn. Often, the battles are a question of who is willing to step up to the plate first or offer a concession in order to meet the needs of all involved.

Money. Ugh. My son always costs people money. They don't like that.

But, money, safety and dignity are all things with which we struggle in these battles. This morning, I feel as though I lost that battle as I watched our son being placed into a harness before the "happy" little school bus backed out of the driveway and drove away on its "happy" little route.

I didn't feel so happy.

I cried. I felt as though I'd sold our son's dignity for the opponent's unwillingness to properly staff that bus. Doing so would cost more money. So, why not restrain him, right? Putting him in a harness so that he can't move around freely eliminates the problem, right?

I felt as though I had failed our son.

And while, yes, children must learn consequences of their behavior, particularly blatant defiant behavior such as our son's disorderly conduct, our level of consequences--those in the special needs world--don't include those used in mainstream society.

Instead of grounding him or taking away his cell phone, we're talking about things such as restraint.

My heart is broken.

I can appreciate the use of restraints with different children under different circumstances. I stand in judgment of no parent other than myself for allowing my own child to ride away today.

I'm sorry, buddy. I promise I won't do that to you again.



This entry was written in response to the letter prompt "H" in the A to Z Challenge April 2012.