A miracle in the 5th Grade

The 2016 school year, 4th grade, was devastatingly difficult for Charlie. I watched my son shrivel away from life a little bit each day. It was one of the hardest events to witness, like a slow death of my most loved person on Earth. I don’t think Charlie changed, but rather the world around him did. Kids grew a little between years, and the demands on his ability to cope with stressors expanded exponentially. 4th grade wasn’t a line in the sand, but rather a tipping point of a growing difficulty navigating the world.

Behaviors that where small idiosyncrasies of his suddenly became identifying traits. Professionals wanted to know more about those. There was much poking and prodding of his responses to outside stimuli. He was talked about in the third person by some with lesser bedside manner, and he was the first-party most important person in the room by those with the best of manner.

By the end of 4th grade, those characteristics had a cumulative name. Autism. It is a funny thing, naming something as nonphysical as a grouping of common characteristics. It seems as impotent an act as any action can be. Time has a way of making avalanches out of snowflakes though. What was a singular useless act of putting a word to our sons struggle has become the single most liberating moment of the past 104 weeks.

By the time the current school year started, I thought I had lost the brightest and most beautiful parts of who my son is. His vitality was through the floor. He had given up on being involved in theater. Or video games. Or singing and dancing in the middle of the afternoon because a song came over him. He just sort of dripped through life. He became increasingly locked-in.

I have spent most of, if not all of my life battling depression. I saw in my son that thick black tar on his soul that I recognize so well and it made me hurt for him. It suffocated the life out of me as I felt I was powerlessly watching it wrap those dripping tendrils of oil around him. There are many experiences that I’ve had I hope my son is able to mirror, but depression is not among them.

5th grade saved my son. We went into this school year armed with the diagnosis and documentation the school needed. They could now act to the fullest. Our out-of-school councilor had been working with Charlie intently to build up coping mechanisms and emotional awareness skills. The amazing and dedicated staff helped us develop an IEP that we thought would really work well for Charlie. Everyone was involved, not just the minimum crew. Charlie was involved as well. He saw first-hand that his school staff cared deeply about his well-being and education.

His teachers where a revelation. I should note that these are almost the exact same set of teachers from 4th grade, but this year they where equipped with that new word I once found so empty of efficacy. They executed the IEP, they went way above and beyond the IEP. They applied their extensive training and huge amounts of humanity to help Charlie achieve the highest version of himself possible.

By the end of the first month of the school year, Charlie told us he wanted to do theater again. By the end of the 6th week, he was singing and dancing around the house again. By the end of the second month he told me “I like school again. It’s much better this year, like it used to be at Cherrydale.”

Breath in. Feel the air in my lungs. There is life here again, vigor and excitement.

To the staff of Salters Point Elementary in the Steilacoom Historic School District, and I mean every single teacher, administrator, councilor, janitor, playground monitor, specialist, librarian, lunch room worker and volunteer, we owe you a debt that I am afraid may never be repayable. Charlie’s personal challenges in life may not be over, but you each contributed to him learning that those challenges can always be overcome. All it takes is hard work, compassion and focus.

As we talked about the year as a family, we decided that we wanted to come up with some unique gift to give the staff that we felt made this such a successful school year. We had two challenges. The easier challenge was the “what”. Charlie has been using a small Teddy as a focus, a stress ball that helps him when his experiences become too much to handle. It has been with him constantly through the second half of the year. Our gift had to include Teddy somehow.

The “who” was the harder challenge. As we started listing individuals that regularly came up as being critical to the survival of 4th grade and the beautiful growth of 5th, eventually we had just listed nearly the entire staff directory. We had to cut a line somewhere, and decided on the number six. We would make six trophies for the staff members that Charlie felt had the most frequent daily impact on his great year.

In the photos you will see most of those trophies. One is not pictured because that staff member wasn’t available at the very end of the year to receive it. With the help of the district, we hope to arrange to get the 6th and final trophy to them over the summer.

To teachers and education workers everywhere. I see you. I see your contributions. I have your back, always. You matter more to our present and our future than almost any other segment of the population. And I love you all for your commitment to our children. Thank you.