A significant lesson unfolded when my son’s preschool teacher expressed her desire to have him moved out of her classroom. My second child, Charlie, has autism. While we received an official diagnosis just before he turned three, we recognized his differences well before that. Since birth, he has navigated the world in his own unique way. We feel fortunate to gain insight from his perspective.
This year, Charlie began attending a small private preschool part-time, where he learns letters, shapes, colors, and numbers. More importantly, he is developing social skills, following directions, and learning to communicate outside of our presence. He has been thriving, but the journey started on a rocky note.
After just four days with his first teacher, she requested that he be moved to another class. By all accounts, Charlie was friendly, intelligent, and gentle. The only significant “issue” was his difficulty in remaining seated for extended periods. When overwhelmed, he explored his surroundings, which seemed to frustrate her. The teacher struggled to manage her classroom when one child was active instead of sitting quietly.
Part of me understood the challenge—explaining special needs to preschoolers is no easy task. They might not grasp why their classmate is slightly different and requires some adjustments. However, a larger part of me wanted to scream, “What did you expect?!”
First, he’s only three years old. It’s unlikely he’s the only child in the school who dislikes sitting still. Secondly, you were aware of his special needs before admitting him. I had clearly communicated how his autism manifests: he is verbal but sometimes struggles with conversation. This shouldn’t have been a surprise. The only accommodation he truly needed was the ability to step away when things became overwhelming. His teacher had assured me she was prepared to support him, but after only four days, she seemed to have given up.
Without any warning, the director transferred him midday to a classroom I was unaware of until after the fact. I was left feeling blindsided. His teacher’s sole complaint mirrored what I had already told her. I never even had the chance to help her manage his needs. It was disheartening to see that accommodating his special needs was not a priority for her.
This experience devastated me. Would this be a recurring theme throughout his life—people unwilling to invest the time to understand him? I spent the weekend grappling with the decision of whether he should continue attending preschool. Perhaps it was too soon, or maybe I was completely misjudging his capabilities. I feared I was failing him as a mother, a worry that has lingered since his diagnosis.
Ultimately, my partner encouraged me to approach the situation with measured optimism. We agreed to see how Charlie would fare in the new classroom. If it didn’t work out, he wouldn’t have to go back. I’m grateful we decided to trust our instincts.
When we arrived at the new classroom the next day, Charlie dashed past his old class into the new one. He immediately hugged his new teachers and began showing me around. They had thoughtfully prepared a name tag, a cubby, and a coat hook for him and welcomed him with open arms. Their enthusiasm was palpable, and they expressed how thrilled they were to have him. By the end of that first afternoon, Charlie had already made a lasting impression on them, demonstrating his knowledge of letters, colors, shapes, and numbers.
It was clear in that moment that these teachers were dedicated to understanding Charlie. Since then, he has not had a single bad day with them. Every morning, he runs into their warm embrace. I have spent time in the classroom, and they treat Charlie like any other child. While they recognize his special needs, they only come into play when necessary. Otherwise, he is simply one of the group.
On the rare occasions when he becomes overwhelmed during a chaotic event, they notice and help him find a quiet space where he feels safe. They understand that he may need a moment to wander, script, or sing, and they patiently support him.
This journey has imparted a crucial lesson about parenting a child who is different. There will be times when people choose not to understand him, and that will hurt. For now, he is too young to fully grasp exclusion, but I feel the pain deeply. Someday, he will understand, and it will affect him, leaving me perpetually angry and sad when I witness his struggles.
I hope that as awareness of autism grows, more individuals will commit to fostering inclusion. I will tirelessly advocate for Charlie to find spaces where he belongs. This world is full of round holes, and my son is a square peg.
This experience taught me the importance of processing my emotions but also setting them aside to make rational decisions in Charlie’s best interest. Had I reacted impulsively and withdrawn him from school at the first sign of trouble, he would have missed out on a wonderful year with teachers and friends who genuinely care for him.
I cannot allow my fears to dictate his life. There are many incredible people, like his current teachers, who will recognize his strengths and appreciate all that he is. They will be willing to discover what makes him unique and will not give up on him simply because he approaches things differently.
In the end, Charlie found his place, while his first teacher lost out on a remarkable opportunity to know him.
For more insights into parenting and related topics, check out this article on understanding autism and inclusion.
Summary:
A mother shares her experience with her son, Charlie, who has autism, when a teacher requested his transfer after just four days. Initially heartbroken, she later finds a supportive environment in a new classroom where Charlie thrives. The narrative emphasizes the importance of understanding and inclusion, as well as the emotional journey of parenting a child with special needs.
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