Hi Everyone. Getting ready for a vacation? Thought you might like to read about the family trip that changed our lives.
Just need Julie Andrews in the picture:)
Oh Beautiful for spacious skies…
From the moment I was pregnant, my husband Tom dreamed of the day he could retrace his childhood trip out west. He glowed in the memories of mom, dad and kids studying the maps on the kitchen table, packing the lunch meat sandwiches in the cooler, and repeating the rest-stop conspiracy of Dad throwing the baseball high over his boys’ heads so they would chase the ball and use up some of that stored energy. The year our son Aaron was ten and his brother Tommy turned nine, faithful to Ulrich family tradition, we headed west. The main difference between my husband’s family, and ours, was that Aaron has autism.
Preparing for the trip
Aaron didn’t start walking until he was five, and even at ten was not completely independent in the bathroom. So how were we going to follow his needed routines for toileting, understand Aaron’s wants without the use of words or signs, watch his balance issues, and especially, cope with unpredictable behaviors? How were we going to manage twenty-one days of camping, sleeping, eating, and interacting with strangers in strange places? How were we going to survive–much less enjoy–visiting eleven National Parks and Monuments, twelve states, Mexico, and traveling five thousand miles?
Certainly, we were not the first family to attempt a western vacation with a child with complex needs, but we also knew we were not going to be “typical” tourists. Tom and I briefly considered leaving Aaron with a friend or in summer camp, but we decided this dream vacation included our “whole family.” We would make it work.
Adaptations and Accommodations
What could be more All-American?
Using our teaching and parenting skills, we designed adaptations and accommodations for the trip. In previous years we camped in state parks and all shared a big tent. Aaron had a terrible time sleeping on the ground in such close quarters and often our sleeping bags got soaked in rain storms, so for this adventure we decided to buy a pop-up camper. Our pediatrician recommended some medication to help Aaron relax and sleep at night. We planned to follow Aaron’s schedule for meals, breaks, and sleep. We would only visit restaurants at non-peak hours, choose corner tables, avoid long waits, and skip most museums. We installed a child-proof lock on the car door and had a suitcase of games, music and snacks. Tommy and Aaron’s jobs on the trip were to crank up the camper each night and help carry the water buckets–jobs that were successful in our previous trips.
Oh Beautiful for pilgrim feet…
Like the pioneers of old, and Tom’s family a generation earlier, at dawn our family set out from Cincinnati with Tommy’s version of a “Colorado or Bust” sign taped to the windshield, driving not oxen-pulling-a-Prairie-Schooner, but a brown-station-wagon-pulling-a-pop-up-camper. We were confident we could handle any of the challenges we knew would come. We would enjoy our family-time and see the beauty of America. And fortunately, instead of mud and rock trails, we had interstate roads and could travel sixty MPH.
We Americans like to brag about being the melting pot and/or salad bowl of the world, a nation that values brotherhood and diversity.
Even with our best preparation, instead of a three-week vacation, this became a three-week teaching excursion. It seems the human America was not quite ready for us.
At home we were surrounded by people who know us; they saw the beauty in Aaron and our family. With the strangers we met on our journey, we had both negative and positive interactions.
Transformational Experiences, day after day
As if we had a disease, one family packed up their tent and moved it to a site on the other side of the campground, and a pregnant woman crossed the street so she wouldn’t have to pass us.
One evening Aaron was enjoying the loud echoes that he could make in the campground bathhouse, and a young boy ran out screaming, “The Hulk, the Hulk’s in there!”
An elderly man said, “We have one of ‘those’ in our family but he doesn’t travel, he lives in a home.”
“Mom, what’s wrong with that boy? Does he act that way on purpose?” The mother whispered, “SHHH, he’s retarded,” and like we were dangerous, yanked the child’s arm and dragged him away.
“Have you tried the Feingold or gluten-free diet?” or, “I know an allergist in Illinois who can get kids like that to talk.” It seems many people think they have the right to offer advice. I am sure they think they are helping, but do they really think we were so desperate we needed a consultation standing in line at the grocery? We struggle with the question: Can Aaron ever be accepted just the way he is, or does he only have value if he is “fixed” or “cured”?
In Arizona, we were asked to leave a family-style restaurant because, as the manager said, “We don’t serve people like him.” Tom and I were shocked because Aaron was happily eating his pancakes. If he had been noisy, we would have understood, but he was acting as normal as anyone. Sobbing, I hurried Aaron to the car wondering what we were going to do a thousand miles from home. I realized this was the lowest point of the trip and saw a glimpse of the discrimination that has followed individuals of other ethnic and racial groups. The stigma of being asked to leave a restaurant because some anonymous person didn’t like the way my son “looked,” and the management’s open prejudice presented an uncomfortable dark side of America I will never forget.
Oh Beautiful for heroes proved…
Our trip would have been devastating if only bad things happened, but we actually had some very positive experiences.
People would ask with smiles, “Where are you from?”, “Where did he get that red hair?” or “How old is he?” Just ordinary questions, but kind gestures and communication starters.
A parent of a child with Down syndrome commented, “I hope the programs in Ohio are better than in Missouri.”
One young girl smiled at us, “We have special kids in our school. My best friend’s name is Brian, he reminds me of him.”
Several children sought out seats next to Aaron and Tommy on a park swing, maybe just for a closer look, but they made eye contact and tried to make Aaron smile. Several gently pushed Aaron on the playground swings, merry-go-round, and gave him a turn kicking the soccer ball.
Aaron pinched me when we were rocking violently on a small plane sight-seeing ride over the Grand Canyon, the pilot said: “Don’t worry, I’ve had grown men reach over and hold my arm.”
At one roadside park all the visitors collectively held their breath as Aaron climbed the steps up a steep slide. Tommy guided him to the top where after much arm-flapping and nervous hand-biting, Aaron finally let go. As the wind struck his face and he barreled down the slide, Aaron’s expression was one of absolute joy. Everyone in the park clapped and cheered. This was not just a glorious moment for Aaron; this was a glorious moment for every person in the park.
In a swimming pool in Arizona, a life guard got in the water during her break and showed Aaron how to swim on his back.
On a train ride in Silverton, CO a little girl moved into the seat next to Aaron and taught him an adapted version of the game Connect Four.
A waiter in Mexico brought Aaron an extra pack of crackers while we waited for our meal and tried to entertain him by singing Old McDonald in broken English. He even helped cut up Aaron’s food. His empathy and understanding crossed national and language barriers.
Universal Design and Inclusion
In the National Parks we found many examples of universal design: accessible water fountains, paved paths, and self-guided tours enabled us to partially participate in the park activities. Several of the campground managers gave us campsites close to the restrooms. At Carlsbad Caverns, New Mexico there were benches and a bypass for the steep climbs. A small work crew with disabilities in Grand Canyon National Park did yard work, and a waitress at Canyon De Chelly used sign language to take an order from a customer. These inclusive accommodations not only made it easier on us, they actually made us feel welcome.
Survival means Adapting to the Environment
We were ambitious. We flew above the Grand Canyon and went down in the caves of New Mexico. We had a lovely lunch at the Broadmore Hotel with water goblets and doilies, but were asked to leave a family style restaurant. We drove to the top of Pike’s Peak and the whole family climbed the ladders of Mesa Verde’s Cliff Palace. We saw Native Americans adapt and survive their desert environment by seeing the value of every living plant and creature. We tasted jelly and saw sewing needles made from a cactus. We heard wolves howling, and we howled back singing every song we knew around the campfire. We took pictures and made memories that will last a lifetime. And perhaps like the Native Americans who live in the desert, we were learning how to adapt to our environment.
Lessons from the Road
We were physically and emotionally exhausted. Many amazing things happened that brought our family closer together. At the same time, though, I feel Tom, Tommy, Aaron and I crossed the line.
We could no longer think of ourselves as a family with one member who happened to have a disability; we were truly a “disabled family.”
I am not trying to be shocking or dramatic. We just had to concede that most of the general public did not seem to have the motivation, information or skills to assimilate us into their version of a “typical family.”
We also learned we had no anonymity; we stood out even in the largest group. Five hundred people came to see the bats fly out of Carlsbad Caverns, but because of Aaron’s shout when the bats emerged; four hundred ninety-nine people were looking at us.
We learned that celebrating the diversity of the landscape of America includes seeing the beauty of the diversity of its people.
Our experiences reinforced our commitment to the inclusion of people with disabilities to live, work, recreate, and go to school with their neighbors, brothers and sisters. We cherished the positive experiences; the children we met gave us so much hope for the next generation of Americans, and travelers. Like Johnny Appleseed on his trips out west, we tried to drop positive seeds that other pioneer families will nurture and see bear fruit. Perhaps a future Kodak moment for our country will include not only the beautiful American landscapes, but people like Aaron and our family.
Better than “The Buck Stops Here”
One last story: In Missouri, inside the Truman Memorial Museum with its high ceilings and big rooms, Aaron started, “vocalizing.” Oh, how it echoed. The guard came up to us and said either Aaron would have to be quiet or leave. Tom started to go, when another tourist came running from across the room. He looked the guard right in the eye and said, “How dare you speak to them like that. That young man is a citizen of this country and has a right to be here. Harry Truman was a strong supporter of the ordinary person. He, of all people would want them to be here.”
As we pulled the car into our driveway, Tom and I were wondering if it was worth it. Would we ever take another road-trip? But like always, our children showed us the way. As he was running into the house to be the first person in the bathroom, Tommy called over his shoulder, “Next year I want to go to Florida!”
And crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea!
Add your voice:
Be sure to leave a comment and let me know about your travel adventures. Is it harder when you are away from home and your typical routine?
Keep Climbing: Onward and Upward
All the best, Mary
Copyright Ulrich 2000-2013
Original Work do not copy without Permission
What I love about this video is musicians from all over the world are playing the same song. Giving the same message. Gritty to sophisticated, washboards to violins–it’s the same song and message.
Kind of like all the people who believe in inclusion are playing the same song and giving the same message.
Kind of like all the people around the world who are working to make the world an inclusive place for ALL people, including people with disabilities.
The Inclusion Network
Check out The Inclusion Network hosted by Jack Pearpoint. There are many friends there from TASH, Arc, and advocacy days-gone-by who have stood by me and other parents of people with severe disabilities. Just a few are John O’Brien, Connie Lyle O’Brien, Barb McKenzie, John McKnight… and Gail Jacobs.
Standing with One Person–and Many
Our 45-year journey toward Inclusion has been long and hard. And when we look at Aaron’s current life, we don’t seem to have made much progress. We’ve done three MAPS and person-centered plans but they just ended up in Aaron’s chart with a bureaucratic check-mark that they were completed.
We continue to do all the right planning, we take the right risks, we fight like the devil to get good programs, we attend countless meetings, join the right groups, and work with strong visionaries to build a better world for all people with severe disabilities. But it’s not enough.
The journey continues with every breath we have in this life but unless Aaron dies before we do, we need to plan for an extended journey that continues indefinitely after we are gone. We make our choices and face our battles: the big ones, the little ones… we accept the compromises we have to make to survive. We keep believing. There is no other choice.
We stand on the shoulders of the parents, self-advocates, caregivers, teachers and advocates who came before us and bought our opportunities with their sweat and blood. We continue their work. We attempt to build a inclusive community which has never existed in the history of the world…and then we will pass on this legacy to the next generation.
When all is said and done, we can hold our heads high and shout to the world, “We stood together for Inclusion.”
Our family stands for Aaron in our community. Across the world others, in their own way, in their own community, with their own child, or friend, are also standing for Inclusion.
And each day, we touch the life of one person–and many. We make things a little better than they would have been without our work for our one person–and many. And that gives us hope and is our life work.
So thank you dear friends. Thank you, also, to all the people who are reading this who I have never met but who are working for an inclusive world where everyone belongs.
Thank you for standing by me. Thank you for standing by Aaron. Thank you for standing by all of us. God Bless.
Aaron, my son with the labels of autism and developmental disabilities, had a doctor’s appointment so I brought him late to his adult day program.
A Visit to the Jungle—Jungle Jim’s that is.
Thanks to cell phones, I connected with his group on their community outing at Jungle Jim’s. This is a mega grocery store with a jungle theme: animated monkeys, giraffes, and other animals spread throughout the store. It’s a pretty neat place and features foods from around the world.
Like most people, Aaron and I got a grocery cart when we entered the store.
Adults with Disabilities in Large Group
We found the group–immediately.
Coming down the meat aisle, two women in their 30s were holding hands walking in front of three people in wheelchairs. Both woman had Down syndrome were about 5’6” and weighed about 200 pounds. Another man (about 50) was holding hands with a female staff person. The second staff person was pushing one of the people in wheelchairs. They did not have any shopping cart.
Gosh, I wonder how we found them so easily?
When one of the staff people saw Aaron pushing a grocery cart, she said she was surprised he had those skills and could tolerate the noise and confusion of a grocery. I assured her Aaron was fine and in fact, since he was in second grade, grocery shopping was part of his functional curriculum (click here).
The staff person didn’t really pay attention to what I was saying. Since she was the professional in charge, and I am clearly just the mother, she politely said I could leave and she would watch Aaron (along with the other six people).
To her surprise, I smiled at her and said there was NO WAY I was going to leave. (What I actually said was a lot nicer–what I was thinking was actually not a lot nicer.)
A group of preschoolers were also visiting Jungle Jim’s that day. The teacher had prearranged an instructional tour. A store employee, dressed like a jungle safari guide, was explaining how cheese comes in huge round blocks from many different countries. Even with the guide in her camouflage pants and a netted hard hat, and the teacher saying “Who can tell me what shape that is?” all the kids were gawking at our group.
Our two aides, of course, just kept herding the group of adults with disabilities down the aisle. They talked to each other about the general prejudice of our society toward people who are different, and young children who just didn’t know any better. After all, they are Christian women who care about the “least of God’s children” and they are the enlightened ones earning their crown in Heaven.
Purpose of the Grocery Trip
Unlike the preschoolers who were making the trip to the grocery an educational experience, I asked one of the aides what our group was buying at the grocery. She shrugged her shoulders and said, “Oh, it is the end of the month, we are out of funds–so we are just looking around, enjoying the air conditioning.”
Shock in Aisle 4
I was with Aaron and our group for about 15 minutes and I was on the edge of hysteria. I literally had to do calming breaths. I felt like I was in a time warp from the ‘80s. I kept thinking of the years Aaron’s occupational therapist, speech/language pathologist, physical therapist, teachers and instructional assistants taught Aaron to plan his purchases, buy items, make choices, use his picture communication book, use his wallet, push the cart without hitting anyone, maneuver around kiosks and displays set up in the middle of an aisle…. Aaron even worked at a grocery store, with his job coach, stocking shelves as part of his work transition plan.
I also thought about everything I knew about normalization–to go to the store in small groups (no more than two) and blend into the population. To have the skills and behaviors of a consumer so you were a valued customer and respected member of the community.
I remembered Alison Ford’s presentation about, “There is so much more at the grocery store” and the Syracuse Functional Curriculum. And Marc Gold, Lou Brown and Sharon Freagon’s slides using the grocery store for a teaching environment because it was a community environment that would be used for a lifetime–multiple trials over multiple years.
Inclusion and the Jungle
One of the lessons of nature is that for animals to survive, they need to blend in, or be camouflaged into the environment. That is why polar bears are white, and alligators look like logs floating in the river. It is why the female cardinal, who carries the young, is a dull brown and her male partner is bright red to attract the attention of predators.
The history of man also tells us about the power of in and out groups. We segregate criminals in orange jumpsuits so they stand out and everyone knows there is danger. The Nazi’s forced the Jews to wear Stars of David arm bands to clearly stigmatize and identify their enemies. Police uniforms identify people who we can ask for help.
The history of people with disabilities also includes the stigma and isolation of people as being so different, so dangerous that parents would point to strangers and urge their children away.
Because Aaron does not communicate like other people. Because Aaron has some bizarre behaviors. Because it takes people a while to get to know him. Because of his labels… we make sure Aaron is well groomed, wears stylish clothes and can survive by blending into existing groups.
We practice the principles of normalization and inclusion everywhere we go. We work hard to help Aaron be seen as a contributing member of the community, a valued member of a family, a friend, a loving uncle.
Like the jungle, “the survival of the fittest” belongs to those who can camouflage themselves into the natural world, or in disability-speak, be included in the community.
Obviously, none of these aides had read about this, or anything else. In fact, these loving caring aides who work for minimum wage do the job as a labor of love. They are not trying to stigmatize Aaron and his group–they just don’t know any better. They are not trying to alienate and waste the people’s time and let their skills deteriorate—they really, really, really just haven’t been trained.
So, of course, Tiger Mom took over.
That day I decided to stay and try to teach some skills. I have trained parents and teachers, I have a lifetime with Aaron so Tiger Mom went into action.
I figured the normalization lesson would have to wait because there was no way our group was ever going to blend in. (How could two aides handle seven people with significant disabilities, three who used wheelchairs?) We also did not have enough staff to divide up in small groups and spread out in the store.
Let’s Buy Something?
So I suggested, “Let’s buy something, and I will treat. What could we make for a snack? Or what do you need?” (MAKING CHOICES—giving dignity to the people.)
One person suggested we make smoothies. Great, smoothies! (That is AGE-APPROPRIATE. People of all ages like smoothies. It was hot outside so it was appropriate for the time of year.) Smoothies it is!
I ask the group what ingredients we needed to make the smoothies. Each of the seven people had a particular item to find on the shelf and put in the cart Aaron was pushing (FUNCTIONAL SKILL: IF THEY DIDN’T GET THE ITEM, SOMEONE ELSE WOULD HAVE HAD TO GET IT.)
Aaron pushing the cart was a balancing and behavioral technique to keep Aaron on task and keep him from running off down the aisle. It also put Aaron in a valued position because he was needed for each item. It also required each of the people to (SOCIALLY INTERACT) with Aaron.
Teaching “Learned Helplessness”
The people with disabilities all got into it. But the kind, but totally clueless aide was doing everything for them–even putting the item in the cart for them. And, obnoxious me, I would return the item to the person, put it in their hands and ask them to put the item in the cart. (LEARNED HELPLESSNESS.) Geesh!
Since Aaron was pushing the cart, he was like the leader of the safari. He did great, but I swear, the others had either lost their skills or hadn’t had much opportunity to learn about PARTIAL PARTICIPATION and practice being an active participant in the shopping environment.
We had a hard time finding the frozen juices, but guess what? Near the ceiling, there was a big sign that said “JUICE” – which I of course, pointed out so the group could READING CONTEXT CLUES it.
The aides–actually, I don’t know what the aides were thinking—they looked at me like I was nuts to point out a sign to these people who they knew couldn’t read.
The safari ends with checkout and the group being loaded into the vans.
I let Aaron leave with the group. I said goodbye and I hoped they enjoyed their smoothies, and then… I sat in my car and cried for 20 minutes and was depressed for the next week.
All of our fight for inclusion in a regular school, fight for a functional community-based curriculum, all the research and knowledge we have acquired for the last 30 years in special education–and here is Aaron in the middle of what felt like a freak show.
Even if I tried to feel some redemption about the functional shopping experience with the outcome of them making a smoothie, and even if I tried to ignore my overstepping boundaries and staying, “Just a mother.” The low expectations (click here) and lack of skills felt hopeless. All the skills that Aaron had, and now was losing.
I haven’t resolved this. The aides were good people doing a tough job. Imagine lugging 7 adults in and out of vans, and not having the funds to buy anything on a trip to the grocery?…. but my heart just breaks for Aaron. His dream plan, years and years of work–and it is like it never happened.
Children have value and hope. The adult world has no mandates, no IEPs or due process. Where are the people who certify these programs? How can these good aides have so little support and resources?
Thanks for listening, I know you don’t have the answers either. I stopped in Aaron’s day program again yesterday and the group was making lady bugs on green construction paper leaves from a pre-school activity book. Geesh!
Deep breathe, in-out-in-out.
Lady bugs are supposed to be good luck, right?
I feel like I should end with a joke or something to lighten this up, but I feel betrayed by the paid “Professionals” in our county who know better. Where are they?
Am I really supposed to just “feel grateful” that Ohio has any programs at all, and Aaron’s developmental twin in Tennessee and South Carolina are just sitting at home doing nothing?
Of course, last year was worse and at least now, Aaron is out of the crowded back room with no windows at the sheltered workshop.
He is surrounded by kind people who care about him. It could be worse. But wow, it certainly could be better.
Keep Climbing: Onward and Upward
All my best,
Please chime in:
What would you have done? Would you just watch? Would you just leave Aaron and go? Would you go back to the grocery for a bottle of scotch? Any suggestions? In this jungle, what would a “normal” shopping trip look like for the people with severe disabilities? What message do you think the preschoolers got? What would be better?
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When my son Aaron was in school, shopping was part of his curriculum. From the time he was ten years old he went to the bank and grocery one day a week as part of his special education school program. Here is a short video with Dr. Lou Brown.
This was best practice and came from the work of Drs. Lou Brown, Alison Ford, Sharon Freagon and many others. The idea of a functional curriculum for people with autism, intellectual and developmental disabilities is:
* it takes longer to learn skills, so let’s make sure we teach important skills and not waste their time on dumb stuff
* it takes lots of practice, so let’s give the student lots of opportunities and trials
* use it or lose it, so let’s make sure the skill is something the student will need their whole life
* transition from school to adult life will be smoother
* we only teach skills that if the person didn’t do it, someone else would have to do it for them
* the ability to purchase items would give the person more dignity, self-esteem, self-determination skills and choices in their life
The way it worked was each week, Mom sent in a check for $10.00 and a shopping list. The class went to the same grocery store (because each store is different). Each student cashed their check at the bank and then bought items from the list to take home.
In addition, students also planned a lunch to be made in the classroom the following day. Each would purchase a couple items for that group lunch. These items were purchased with the classroom credit card.
This functional curriculum was based on the philosophy that Aaron would go to the grocery the rest of his life. Before the school year started the IEP team decided this was a high priority skill because he would need to buy food and other items when he was an adult. If he didn’t learn to purchase these items, someone else would have to buy them for him. If Aaron could purchase the items he would have more choices and say in his life and therefore a better quality of life. (Who wants someone else deciding you can only have Cheerios for breakfast all your life.)
Related Service Staff
The curriculum was designed by the IEP team including specialists and the parents. After all, who would be taking the student to the grocery on the weekends, summer, and after school. And who knew what the student liked better than their parents?
I was in the school a lot and went on many of the community training trips with Aaron and his class.
It takes a Village
The speech and language therapist helped Aaron build picture sequences of “shopping at Krogers,” check-off lists with pictures for grocery lists, and learn to interact with the cashier “Thank You” and give a High 5 to the bagger….
The occupational therapist helped Aaron figure out which coin purse/wallet worked best, learn to pay with the next highest bill, learn how to take the money out of his wallet (hold wallet in left hand and take out bills with right) and after many failures of getting the change back in the wallet–it was decided Aaron should just put the change in his pocket….
The physical therapist helped Aaron figure out how to climb up and down the steps on the bus (hold on the rail with his right hand and count the steps), how to maneuver the parking lot (and yes we had an IEP goal that said with 50% accuracy), how to enter the right door–even if there are two “in” doors,
how to reach the items on the bottom shelves (hold on to the grocery cart with his left hand and reach with his right)….
Depending on the therapists schedules, they might only be involved in periodic assessments, or they could go with the class every week. This was an excellent way for the therapist got to really see Aaron in this environment and practice REAL life skills.
The teacher and assistant teachers went every week with the 6-8 students in the multi-handicapped class. She/he helped Aaron match his pictures to the actual items in the store, find his favorite items and put them in the cart, learning appropriate social skills….
After High School
Unfortunately now that Aaron is out of school, he has lost most of those skills because adult service staff refuse to take him to the store or don’t have the knowledge or support they need. Here is a story about Aaron’s home (click here). It is not the fault of the staff. Some of them are very loving and do a great job.
Aaron and I are a team and we have worked out our own system. We only shop for about 10 items and Aaron puts the items in the cart. Sometimes Aaron will grab something off the shelf and if it is anywhere close to something he might want, I’ll let him buy it. ie. if it is a bag of cookies or cereal –he can keep it. If it is a box of denture tablets probably I’ll tell him what it is and put it back.
Choices: Quality of Life and “If Only”
If I had the opportunity to change things in Aaron’s life, it would be that adult services used a functional curriculum and adult residential services gave Aaron and others with autism and severe disabilities the opportunities to practice their skills. There is no question Aaron would not currently be LOSING these skills. There is no question these skills would enhance Aaron’s self-esteem and quality of life.
The reason I could insist on these skills being taught and used when Aaron was school age was because of the federal mandate in IDEA. The Individual with Disabilities Education Act said that parents were part of the IEP team and the parents had due process if they disagreed with the school personel. There is no such mandate for Adult Services, no due process for parents and/or guardians. Plus, in Adult Services the staff does not have to be trained or have any teaching license.
As my friend Deb used to say, “When I am made Queen of the Universe” I will declare it. Until then, I’ll take Aaron every weekend and give him as many functional experiences I can.
And of course, I’ll dream of the day I am Queen of the Universe. *smile*
What ifs? Comments?
Any stories about your child’s school experiences preparing them for the future? Any luck with using those skills in their adult life?
Anyone else want to be “Queen of the Universe”?