I Am in Here Read Online Free Page B

over her mouth. Despite my best efforts, Elizabeth suffered that year, and it pains me now to think that I didn’t do more to protect her. (A side note: this teacher left after only one year in our school district, and I’ve been told that she is no longer in education. Your children are safe.)
    I will spare you the details of my struggle to make things right for Elizabeth that school year through my constant calls, emails, and meetings. Only two good things came out of it: one was that her longtime school aide, Terri, shielded her from the worst actions of the misguided teacher and became a trusted second mom. And the other blessing was that in our desperation to prove that Elizabeth was bright and capable, we found Soma.
    That year we flew to Austin, Texas, four consecutive months for weeklong intensive “camps” with Soma, and Elizabeth learned how to use the letterboard.
    We still visit Soma for intensive workshops to improve Elizabeth’s ability to write out what is in her mind. And Terri has remained with Elizabeth, her faithful friend and aide in and out of the classroom. One lesson we’ve learned: cherish those who best serve the needs of your child. Elizabeth is acutely sensitive to the emotional well-being of those around her, especially Terri, as she reveals in this poem:
    Â Â  For Terri   
    Feel better, my friend
    I am here for you.
    Do not be sad
    Do not cry
    I plan to try
    To make you happy.
    That tumultuous first year in school included dozens of meetings up the school’s chain of command and ultimately appeals to the district’s school board. This was a complex matter: I had been an elected member of that school board since before Elizabeth was born. At these tension-filled meetings, I was required to wear two hats, one as a board member and one as a parent, literally changing chairs when I was advocating for Elizabeth.
    At the end of that first year, I was not looking forward to facing the seven members of the school’s Child Study Team to determine a plan for Elizabeth’s next year of education. Elizabeth was now six years old, and the question of whether she was ready to be mainstreamed—put into a regular kindergarten class accompanied by an aide—became more urgent for me with each passing day.
    After the awkward pleasantries and formalities, the head of the Child Study Team took an exasperated breath and said, “We are in unanimous agreement that Elizabeth is not ready for kindergarten. She should remain in the autism classroom next year.”
    Given the report from her teacher specifying that sitting cross-legged was a kindergarten requirement that Elizabeth was sorely missing, I was not surprised by this institutional conclusion.
    Slowly, I looked into each of their faces in turn and calmly said, “Yes, you are absolutely right. She’s not ready for kindergarten.”
    Then I drew in a deep breath and said, “She’s ready for first grade.”
    Jaws dropped, but I believed in my daughter and saw the progress she was making in communicating her intelligence and knowledge through her letterboard. I also knew Terri and an exceptional, loving first-grade teacher, Cathy, were both up for the challenge.
    The following year, our team of three (parent, teacher, and aide), figured out how to integrate Elizabeth into a mainstream classroom without overwhelming her or disrupting the learning of her classmates. Don’t misunderstand: it wasn’t easy. Everything we did was scrutinized by the Child Study Team, but in the end we succeeded due to the dedication and perseverance of Elizabeth, Cathy, and Terri. We were on a mission together.
    Over the years I’ve learned there are two types of teachers, perhaps driven by their personality as much as their professional history. One type will generally view special-needs children as problems to be endured. The other will see them as treasures waiting to be unearthed. To those