Inclusion I am about to enroll my daughter in a summer program for kids. I have the payment in my purse; its money borrowed from my brother, but its going to be worth it, I think. My little girl can read and write, do some math, has a sweet, comical disposition that makes her relatively easy to teach. The college that sponsors the program specializes in the education of children, and I think, at least for the summer my kid can go to the same school as I do, because Ill be teaching at my own college during the program. Every afternoon I walk past the sponsor colleges building and see children running around in the playground while they wait for their parents. Finally, in the summer Ill walk past and get to see her there on the swings, waiting for me. I hold the registration form. It is bright yellow, and promises developmentally appropriate sessions of fun in reading, science, music and the arts. I tell the staff that Im glad there are so many slots left, that my daughter has autism, and Ive been looking for chances to let her learn alongside regular children. The staff exclaims, Oh, Maam, you inquired over the phone the other day, didnt you? She asks me to wait as she calls for her senior, a very nice, pleasant woman. She informs me that the teachers arent trained to handle kids with special needs, that the program tried to, once, but after the first week the parents themselves decided to pull out their child. And no, to her knowledge the college isnt offering any summer program that can accommodate my daughter. I nod and smile, still clutching the registration form, and I say goodbye.
Posted on: Wed, 05 Mar 2014 10:12:51 +0000
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