On Sunday, September 16, 2001, I had the responsibility of coming up with words to fill the void that was very much alive and screaming from five days earlier. Those words were inadequate to the task.

Yes, poets, priest and politicians all have words to thank for their position. And I have played, at some level, all three.

But today requires something more than words can capture.

It requires an acknowledgement that sometimes, we just need to hush and listen. Even if there’s nothing to hear.

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At a stop on his “listening tour” (a part of his 60 Day Entry Plan) yesterday at 10:00am, I was able to ask Dr. Wardynski one direct question. I asked, “Dr. Wardynski, is the school system going to be in a place to meet the requirements of IEPs on August 8th?”

To this question Dr. Wardynski responded, “I don’t know.”

After a pregnant and awkward pause, he added, “That’s why I’m listening to you.”

Rather than coming prepared to discuss the Special Needs Consolidation plan, rather than coming prepared to discuss the Special Needs staffing issues, rather than coming with even basic remarks prepared as he did for the South Huntsville Civic Association’s “Town Hall” meeting, Dr. Wardynski came to a meeting with special needs parents to hear from them if his system will be prepared to teach their kids in 8 days.

So now it’s the parents’ responsibility to let the superintendent know if the people he is paid $175,000 a year to supervise are doing their jobs. It’s the parents’ job to know if the school system has the proper staffing to ensure the safety of their kids.

As I have asked often before, what exactly are we paying these people for?

Meeting the requirements of the Individualized Education Program, from the first day of school, is the law. There are no exceptions. There are no maybes. There are no “I hope so’s.” Imagine showing up for school on the first day knowing that your child’s teacher does not have the resources she needs to educate your child? Would you allow your child to stay in that classroom?

If the system is not prepared to meet the IEPs, the system is not prepared for school.

If the system is understaffed and cannot meet the IEPs, the system and our schools are not safe for our kids.

__________

I was hopeful that this meeting would be different. Maybe it would be similar to the South Huntsville Civic Association “Town Hall” meeting on July 11th where Dr. Wardynski came prepared to offer an assessment of the school closings. Maybe we would finally get some answers. In fact, I was specifically told that Dr. Wardynski would finally discuss the Special Needs Consolidation during this meeting. You know, “the plan.”

It would seem that parents of special needs children don’t have the same political clout as the South Huntsville Civic Association.

After introductions, Dr. Wardynski, his aide Aaron King, and Edith Pickins, sat, took notes, cracked a few jokes, and listened.

And that was all.

His only response to a direct question was, “I don’t know.”

While I appreciate that Dr. Robinson went to the trouble of getting me invited to this meeting, and I do certainly support the concept of listening on the part of Dr. Wardynski, the time for listening has long since passed. We have specific questions concerning staffing decisions. We have specific questions concerning the safety of our children. We have specific questions concerning “the plan” that need to be answered.

We’ve been attempting to get answers to these questions since March, and Dr. Wardynski knows this. I’ve emailed these concerns to him and the board on July 16th and received no response. I shared my concerns with the board and Dr. Wardynski in person on July 21st and received no response.

In an attempt to keep this from happening, again, on Sunday, I sent Dr. Wardynski a list of questions that I was looking forward to discussing with him.

Dr. Wardynski:

Thank you for your willingness to meet with me and other parents tomorrow morning at 10:00am. I appreciate it, and I am looking forward to it.

As I have not received an agenda of any kind, I thought that I would share with you a few items that I would like to discuss tomorrow. This is only my list. It has not been discussed with the S.P.E.A.K. group as a whole nor am I speaking for them by sharing this with you. They will bring their own concerns.

1. I am concerned that the special needs classrooms for the 2011-2012 year are going to be dangerously understaffed. As such, I would like to know what the teacher to student ratio for the resource rooms is going to be. I would also like to know exactly how many instructional assistants (IAs) are assigned to the resource rooms for the coming year. As the number of students assigned to the resource rooms is, I have heard, dramatically increasing from last year, the number of IAs should also be increased from last year. Is this the case? Finally, I would like to know how many IAs are going to be available at each school to assist students in participating in regular education classrooms. The “Least Restrictive Environment” requirements of part B of IDEA states that the system must “to the maximum extent appropriate children with disabilities, including children in public or private institutions or other care facilities, are educated with children who are not disabled, and that special classes, separate schooling, or other removal of children with disabilities from the regular educational environment occurs only when the nature or severity of the disability is such that education in regular classes with the use of supplementary aids and services cannot be achieved satisfactorily.” In order to facilitate LRE, the system must hire a sufficient number of IAs to support the children from the first day of school. Have you done so?
2. I would like you to respond to the troubling ratio of Special Needs layoffs that I shared with you via Email last Saturday (July 16th) and in person on Thursday Night (July 21st) at the Board Meeting. Why have Special Needs staff been cut at such an unfair ratio and what are you doing to address these cuts? Alabama State Code 16-39-3 states that, “If sufficient funds are not available to a school board to provide fully for all the provisions of this chapter as well as the educational needs of nonexceptional children, such board must prorate all funds on a per capita basis between exceptional and nonexceptional children.” So far the cuts made have not been made on a per capita basis.
3. I would like to finally receive a written copy of the special needs consolidation plan with a clear justification for why these changes have been made. I was first told that I could expect this written plan “soon” on April 6, 2011. I’ve been promised a written plan by Ms. Sledge, Dr. Pruitt, Dr. Robinson, Dr. Richardson, and indirectly by Dr. Moore. To date, this plan still has not been provided to me or any other special needs parent that I am aware of. Frankly, Dr. Wardynski, this is an excellent example of why Huntsville City Schools is the most sued school system in the state. You may review a listing of these suits here.
4. To avoid issues like the consolidation of special needs students in the future and to reduce the number of lawsuits the system must endure, I would like to hear your thoughts on how you plan to involve the stakeholders of your decisions in your decision making process.
5. I would like to hear how you intend to improve the transparency of the operation of your office, the board and the system as a whole. If you want people to trust you, you can earn that trust by showing us what you’re doing and why.

Thank you for your time and for taking the time to meet with me and other parents tomorrow. Doing so is the first step towards earning my trust. I appreciate your willingness to go this far.

Sincerely,

Russell

He, again, summarily ignored these questions. (He’s learned how to not answer a question from the best of them, I suppose.)

In fact the only issue he did address was to offer his assurances that he would operate in a transparent manner. Unfortunately, he wasn’t transparent enough to offer us any details about how he was planning to improve transparency. I suppose we should just trust him that he’s been trained to use the right buzz-words.

When I was invited to this meeting, I was specifically told, “Dr. Wardynski has met with our special ed staff and assessed the plan.” (Please note the use of past tense in that sentence, and yes, this sentence refers to “the plan.”) He has met with the staff and assessed the plan. When he met with us yesterday, his constant refrain was, “I’ve only been here three weeks; I haven’t assessed anything yet.”

Instead, Dr. Wardynski sat quietly, taking notes, offering no comment on his assessment of the plan. And the one time he was asked a direct question in the meeting, his response was, “I don’t know.”

Yesterday we were nine days from the start of school, and the superintendent doesn’t know if his schools are ready to teach our students.

We were nine days from the start of school, and the superintendent cannot or will not answer basic questions about the staffing of special needs classrooms.

We were nine days from the start of school, and the superintendent cannot or will not address basic questions about the security and safety of students.

Today we’re eight days from the start of school, and still we’re asked to wait.

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Wow, what a week. I’m sorry for having taken so long to post again, but I’ve been exhausted.

So on my birthday, at the end of a week without power, without ice, without hot baths, without internet, without “WATCH TV” as the boy shouted just an hour into a week without TV, without hot food, without knowing where I might find a tank full of gas to allow me to drive the family to a place that wasn’t without those things, without sleep cause the total dark and quiet kept the boy awake most of the night, at the end of all of that, I wanted to take a moment to say thank you to my city-in-law.

Frankly, I’m amazed by the beauty of this city.

I’ve never been in a blackout that last more than a few hours. I’ve never been afraid about where I might be able to find food for my kids. I’ve never worried about not being able to drive to safety because I didn’t have enough gas and couldn’t buy more.

And yet, this city took care of each other in a way that I had hoped would happen, but have rarely experienced.

I saw strangers help push a car into the gas station. I saw neighbors offering neighbors ice, the single most valuable commodity perhaps next to gas, without expectation. I saw Star Market find a way to sell bread, peanut butter, jelly, chips and diapers to a city desperate for the security of “maybe enough” to make it through an extended power outage.

And so I feel the need to say thank you.

Thank you to our police department for working endless hours to keep us safe.

Thank you to our fire department for standing between us and any accident imaginable.

Thank you to the EMS, Hospitals, Doctors, Nurses, and all those who worked to keep us and our loved ones healthy and alive.

Thank you to all of Huntsville Utilities and their staff who never stopped working to restore power.

Thank you to all the Huntsville City Schools Teachers and Principals who put their own lives at risk to protect our children as they were dismissed during the height of the storms.

Thank you to Exxon on the corner of Whitesburg and Lilly Flag for finding a way to sell gas in a dark city.

Thank you to Wavaho in Laceys Spring for doing the same thing.

Thank you to O’Reilly’s Auto Parts on South Parkway for helping a guy replace a dead car battery right at closing time.

Thank you to Domino’s Pizza for selling hot pizzas at a cheap price during the blackout.

Thank you the lady in Publix who saw me tying to hold 15 items in my arms and found a basket for me.

Thank you to Publix for having the boy’s chicken once the power came back on.

Thank you to Laurel’s parents for looking out for us.

Thank you to my mom and sister for giving us a break from the cold showers for a couple of nights.

Thank you to Laurel for holding my hand when I was worried.

Thank you to the girl for reading Harry Potter to me by candle light.

Thank you to the boy for saying, “I love you” for the first time after the power came back on.

Thank you to the dark for letting the stars shine as they never have before.

Thank you Huntsville. I told my daughter once that no matter what people try to tell you, love will change the world. Thank you for showing her this to be true. And my, my, my, it’s truly is a beautiful world.

Thank you.

Listened to: Beautiful World from the album “Man at Work” by Colin Hay

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A thousand times a day, I have a reason to hate autism. When he’s bouncing on the trampoline, laughter peeling from his small frame, and the laughter turns to shrieks in between bounces for no apparent reason; I hate autism. When I try taking him into a store, and he starts pounding his head with his fists; I hate autism. When I want to talk to him about why he loves the Tigger Movie so much, I hate autism. When he’s carrying on a conversation in a language that I can’t understand, I hate autism. When he cries at night, and I can’t ask him about his nightmare; I hate autism. When his sister asks me when he will talk, and all I can say is “soon, baby, soon;” I hate autism. When another boy his age asks me to throw him a ball, while he bounces alone in his own world, I hate autism.

A thousand times a day.

And then comes a new day like yesterday at the park.

Matthew’s exploring. Here’s a stick; here’s a piece of bark. Together they open new words for him. I only wish I could see them as he does, but then we never get to do that, do we?

I look for Emma. She’s running with some kids and having fun. It’s a nice day. I’m not loving autism; I’ll never go there. But for some reason neither is it in the fore of my thoughts right now. Which in itself is strange. I usually notice it more at the park but not today. Today he’s happy. Today she’s happy. It’s beautiful, and I don’t think about it.

She’s wondered off out of the circle, so I go to look. Matthew has decided to climb the slide. Once I spot her, I turn back to him. He’s standing at the base of the slide, talking to the stick and the bark; ignoring the child standing behind him–throwing bark at his head.

Lord of the Files is not a good book to read when you have young children. Having kids brings you in close proximity the playground: the most vicious place on earth; unless of course there’s a deserted island somewhere near. There once was a time when 1984 held place of priority for the most realistically frightening novel ever. In college, I could see Big Brother everywhere. Having returned to the playground later in life, I’m convinced that Jack and his hunters are far more terrifying.

The child bent to pick up another piece of bark to throw when he heard me approaching, and like Jack on the beach when the sailors arrived, he looked to see if I would stop him. All it took was a look and the bark hit the ground, but it didn’t end there.

I pick up my boy off the slide, and put him on the ground. As soon as I do, I see that he’s heading straight towards a florescent green softball that an older child has dropped. As I move to explain to him that the ball isn’t his, the older child says, “he can play with it.” I’m grateful for the Ralphs of the world. They’re not perfect, but they do exist, and sometimes they do the right thing.

“Thanks buddy. I’ll make sure you get it back.”

My boy bounces it on the sidewalk liking the sound it makes. Up and down, he’s happier than he’s been all day. Until Jack sees him having fun.

Drop, bounce, bounce, bounce. Drop, bounce, bounce, bounce. And Jack attacks. He rushes past my boy on the next drop, and kicks the softball into the parking lot. My boy stands and looks at it rolling away.

I go retrieve the ball from the lot and give it back to my boy. He picks up where he left off, and Jack gets warmed up to kick it again when his mother calls him down for it, “Matthew! Stop!”

He doesn’t stop, and the ball goes back into parking lot. And my Matthew watches it go before bending over to pick up a new stick and a new piece of bark. Bouncing into his own world.

There are times, they are few but they do happen, when autism isn’t the worse thing in the world.

The terrifying thing about Lord of the Flies is that we’re all Piggy. We’re all Ralph. We’re all Jack. We’re all floundering between the two Matthews. And Simon the innocent is punished for our sins.

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