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| photo from flickr.com by Millie |
By the time Chase started middle school my file of paperwork
regarding his health and education could create a how-to manual: How to Grow your Child from Seed. It’s
an entire volume of clinical studies:
doctor records, school reports, and special education plans. I won’t throw them
away because our Chase is a fascinating fellow. I’m always looking for ways to
understand him.
Now I’m reviewing one document, which summarizes the many
evaluations Chase had prior to age 13. One study from second grade brings back
difficult memories. Mildly retarded. Before this study, I believed his delays were
due to autism—that autism was his only issue. I was wrong. Along with an intelligence
test, a nonverbal test was given. Results confirmed two issues: autism and
mental retardation.
There had been some discussion about middle school, whether
or not Chase was ready—physical versus mental age. I had been in denial about
my son growing into a man. I tried to ignore the clues, but eventually I had to
answer the question, Where did that
mustache come from?
A psychologist had concluded that Chase’s placement in a 7th
grade special day class appeared to be appropriate. Fifteen students in all
made up his class. I met their teacher, Ms. Hanson. A patient woman with a
plan, she had developed a positive reinforcement program that involved cookies
for good behavior. Perfect. What kid doesn’t like cookies?
Chase’s favorite subject had been math. He knew his
multiplication tables by heart, but he lost track when it came to problems with
two and three place numbers like 146 X 17. We tried division too, a good review
for me, but not so much for Chase. The concept was too advanced. I started to
realize the extent of his disability when I helped him with homework; he had
trouble retaining information. We solved problems one day and he forgot how the
next. This was frustrating at times, but we kept at it until his worksheets
were complete.
One day I asked Ms. Hanson, “How can this be helping Chase?
He doesn’t seem to understand.”
“As long as he’s willing to try, why not? Every day he wants
to take home extra worksheets.”
“You mean more than what is required for homework?”
“Yes. He seems to enjoy the practice.”
I didn’t let on how much time I had spent helping him. While
we talked, my eyes drifted around the room and settled on a package of cookies left
open on a counter. “Ms. Hanson, does Chase earn extra cookies for the work he
turns in?”
“Sure. All the kids do.”
I left the classroom feeling duped. My son was one smart
cookie. He was using me to help score extra treats.
