Colton & High School

Colton is about to embark on the 10th grade.

In our school district, this means attending the High School.

Colton's three big brothers have paved the way, but Colton is a weee bit different - completely awesome-sauce!

I mean, his brothers are awesome-sauce as well but Colton is awesome-sauce with sprinkles on top!

Junior High was rough.

When you have a child with disabilities, there are a boat-load (think Titanic in size) of hurdles and speed bumps and dips in the road that just about swallow you up.

There is paperwork that is redundant and meetings that are frustrating.

And in the middle of it all are children who are forgotten because of all of the legalities and people wanting to be "right" and rules that are made up on the fly and teachers and administrators who are not trained properly and certainly not paid enough.

In the middle of it all is my son.

Colton Walter.

For 16 years, I have had to be his advocate.

I have had to literally fight for properly trained doctors. 

I have had to fight for accommodations.

I have had to fight for proper testing, proper resources, proper teachers, proper aids, proper therapy, proper medication as to not be in excess and take away his amazing personality.

And when it comes to school, I have had to fight the very hardest.

And, to me - that is not acceptable.

I have always fought hard to make sure Colton is as independent as his brothers.

Thankfully, we have the GREATEST attending physician, who is not only a nurse practitioner but also a mom to an autistic son.

The resources she is able to gather for parents of autistic kiddos is extraordinary.

I want Colton to be successful. Period.

Whatever that looks like for him.

When I received his class schedule on Monday, I was aghast - like jaw on the floor, eyes rolling up into my head, fear and frustration set in FAST, and I went into Mama Bear mode.

I was ready for a fight.

I was ready for a fight because I have had to fight so often for him in so many different environments.

I sent an email.

Got a response.

Responded to that email.

Got another response.

Responded to that email.

Got another response and was told to talk to someone else.

Sent an email to that someone else.

Got another response from the initial email.

Sent out a family-wide email, asking for prayers for my Colton.

Got a response first thing Tuesday morning from the someone else.

Prayers answered.

Colton's schedule has been changed.

Quickly.

I took that moment to thank the someone else, then the opportunity to list everything that someone else has to look forward to with Colton:

He's been a runner in the past - like leaving the building - runner. 

He needs safe places to go during class if he needs a break.

Sensory helpers will be in his backpack.

Fidget spinners are especially fun for a classroom full of neuro-typical kids to listen to whilst trying to take notes from the teacher.

He doesn't take homework home because he doesn't retain.

He might say things that are deemed "inappropriate."  It happens all the time, in fact. No filter. No boundaries. He believes in no bad in the world at all. So to him, it's not actually inappropriate. It's just a question.

Expecting him to sit in a main-stream classroom with neuro-typical high school kids for 1 hour and 45 minutes per class four times a day is like asking to sit in Baskin Robbins for 1 hour and 45 minutes four times a day and not eat the goods.

Are you picking up what I'm putting down here, folks?!

They're in for a good time.

And this mama is terrified.

But hopeful.

And, let's face it ... the first incident with my kid and they will all be seeing the face of a mama who is ready for a fight because this boy of mine is worth the fight.