Here's Gus around the time he first started school at Early Invervention.
Gus was about a year old when he attended his first Early
Intervention class outside of our home. I
was fortunate to have a flexible work schedule at that time on Mondays, which
enabled me to be the one who accompanied him most frequently to school.
After delivering our student to the classroom, I would sit
in a tiny chair in the corner as far away from the action as I could get. Gus would participate in activities under the
watchful eye of a teacher designated to be his buddy for the morning. He would start off enthusiastically in the new
project before him, but inevitably he would realize that I wasn’t next to him
anymore. He’d stop what he was doing and
suddenly scan the room in a slight panic to find me. Making eye contact, I’d smile and wave back
at him encouragingly hoping that he wouldn’t bug out. Content that I had not abandoned him, Gus
would return to the activity at hand.
I think on paper, the teachers expected at least one or two
classes before a new addition can be left alone by his or her parent. During the first couple of classes, I would
slip out the door at an opportune moment and sneak over to a room where I could
look through the window to observe. Once
Gus realized that I was gone for real, though, he would start to cry as his
teacher consoled him and attempted to steer his attention back to the activity.
The torture of watching my boy bawling would lead me back
into the classroom where I’d comfort Gus and apologize for having deserted him. The pattern repeated itself for many
consecutive classes. After a while, the
teachers and Michelle staged an intervention to inform me that the person having
the most difficulty with letting go was actually just me. After accepting that I was the obstacle to
Gus’ independence, I bit the bullet and finally stayed behind the glass window. Not long thereafter, Gus survived and so did
I.
Up to that point in his Early Intervention, all of Gus’
therapists came to our home where Michelle was able to be our eyes and ears
about 99% of the time. Having been
rarely present for the home visits, I was mostly ignorant of the true effort
that went into the various therapies he was receiving. While Michelle had been a first-hand witness
to the true effectiveness of say PT or OT, I remained somewhat of a skeptic in
those early months. I was never against
Gus receiving Early Intervention at all. And I definitely liked all of the therapists I had met. But sometimes I might wonder silently if
imitating animal noises or reaching for toys from his belly really constituted
a “therapy” that required the time of an expert. Still, I demurred because everyone who had an informed opinion of the situation unanimously agreed that Early Intervention was the appropriate place for us to be.
Once I started to tag along with Gus to his classes, though, my outlook changed quickly. I was then actually witnessing
firsthand the Early Intervention folks when they were in action both with Gus
and his classmates. I began to
fully appreciate the depth of what these teachers were doing. As if it’s not difficult enough to manage typical
toddlers (think “herding cats” and then some,) imagine a room of kids with all
sorts of special needs sitting with ease in a circle singing and signing "Twinkle, Twinkle." All the while, each of
the professionals are smiling and laughing along with the kids, calmly
addressing whatever disruption might spontaneously ensue. Meanwhile, I could see Gus' advancements progressing in and out of school. Although it may resonate as hyperbole with
the reader, I came to believe sincerely that these therapists were mini-miracle
workers.
With every passing week, the trips to Brockton became
routine. As Gus received his schooling, I
would socialize with the parents of other kids enrolled at the center. There was always a feeling of “safe” that I
experienced with these other moms and dads.
The school was a location where the kids and parents alike were
guaranteed to be free absolutely from the fear of judgment or misunderstanding
from any onlooker.
Gus eventually added a yoga class to his circuit of
therapies, which quickly became a major highlight for me to observe. I mean seriously, does it get any cuter than watching
two year-olds assume a Namaste pose or slither like a snake on the floor? Ask him to do downward facing dog and see
what he does.
In the last few months, unfortunately, my work commitments prevented
me from being the caregiver to accompany Gus on his Monday visits. Still, Michelle kept me in the loop every day
at dinner time about Gus’ ups and downs with his beloved ladies of Early
Intervention.
On the very day of Gus’ third birthday this week, his
educational responsibilities will transition by law from Early Intervention to
the Town of Easton. I’ve already stashed
boxes of Kleenex in various strategic locations throughout the house for my
baby mama come Tuesday. A school bus or van
will make its inaugural pick-up of our big boy at 7:10 a.m.
And just like that, the page to a new chapter in our family’s lives will
begin.
Meanwhile, a six week-old baby in our community could very
well begin his or her first session of physical therapy in a living room that
morning. I want that baby’s potentially skeptical mom
or dad to know a few things. You are
definitely doing the right thing for your child. You are all extremely lucky for the access to
a most phenomenal team of professionals who will quite literally change your
child’s life for the better. And you
will look back in three years with wonder at how fast the time flies.
Special thanks, gratitude, appreciation, and love to the
folks at BAMSI who have taught Gus so much and helped him to prepare for the
next stage of his life. I would be remiss
if I didn’t specifically thank Kristie, Caitlin, Lauren, Mary, Aline, and Nina
for every minute of their expertise, time, patience, encouragement, affection,
and hard work spent with our little boy who is now officially a Pre-K student! Last but not least, I thank Jen for all of
her efforts in coordinating this somehow enjoyable chaos that has been the last
three years of Early Intervention.
As much as it will probably kill me inside, I promise that I
will not get on the bus with Gus this week even if he turns to look for me.
Gus on Graduation Day from EI last week.
