She Is Not a Duck, Part 14

A Mother’s Journey into the world of Mental Health and Spectrum Disorder Challenges

She walks like a duck, talks like a duck, but she is not a duck.

Chapter 13 Private Schools and Court Battles

The best attorneys come with a steep price tag. Legally, Sarah wasn’t recognized as disabled and we needed a skilled lawyer. A lot of billable hours were ultimately wasted. Trying to explain Sarah’s medical history and help him decipher her records was time-consuming.

He was well versed in the law and had a reputation for his stellar abilities. He simply did not understand her or her dual diagnoses. How did she not know that helping a boy in her class, an older one at that, would result in a felony charge?

He was skeptical.

The attorney resigned himself to trusting my word. He orchestrated a plea agreement.

I looked at the requirements on the three-page document known as a Pre-Disposition Sanction Agreement. Out of the 12 items Sarah needed to complete, in order to have the charges dropped, she was capable of doing two.

Acceptance of these terms would result in her failure.

I sensed the attorney’s frustration with me. I was done with people categorizing me as an over-protective mom who was trying to curry favor for her child. I was an advocate driven to do right by my child.

A child in need.

The Judge granted a postponement to allow time for me to meet with the Juvenile Probation Officer who had drawn up the original terms.

I was given two weeks to draft a counter proposition.

The race was also on to find a new school for Sarah.

It wasn’t just a race for my own sanity but Sarah was frustrated too. I was worried that without an outlet, like a routine school day, she would turn her anger on me again.

Boredom was not her friend.

She craved socialization with her peers. Yet she lacked the ability to read social cues, overthought stares, and fixated on every small slight. Sarah absorbed negative interactions which worsened her reactions and her illness.

The very thing she craved she had trouble navigating when she had it in her grasp. Friendships strained quickly. She was the girl that tried too hard. Awkward at times.

She was too autistic for non-diagnosed kids.

She wasn’t autistic enough for the autistic kids.

The Board of Education said the only school available to meet her needs was the one we had just removed her from. The once positive group of people had now turned to less than helpful. They gave me some private school options they felt would be a benefit and sent me on my way.

There were only two.

One was an expensive Catholic School and one was not. Religious content was not an issue even though we weren’t Catholic but she put her foot down. She had heard it was strict and she wanted nothing to do with it. Sarah refused to wear a uniform and the Catholic School kids were stupid.

By default, we went with the other school.

Private schools do not accept any IEP (Individualized Education Plans) from the public school entity. They are governed by their own rules, their own assessments, and don’t answer to the State.

Back at square one, they did determine and target some supports to help her become a successful student.

Fingers crossed as I enjoyed (?) a momentary reprieve.

Sarah became a nighttime creeper.

She took things that weren’t hers and secreted them in her room. It didn’t matter if they held any usefulness. She simply wanted what wasn’t hers.

Her older sister’s things naturally held appeal.

We were smokers and our cigarettes seemed to decrease faster than we were smoking them. Clothes were missing, food was gone. Lots and lots of food items.

A treasure trove of disgusting life forms had been stored under her bed and in the bottom of her closet. Dirty dishes, emptied ice cream containers, family packs of snacks, were hidden and forgotten.

Much like her life, the outer appearance of her bedroom, with the bed made and dressers clear, defied the hidden secrets underneath the surface. Her internal chaos could be artfully hidden until it overtook. And, so did the trash in her room. It started to balloon to the outside.

I knew her illness was spiraling downward. Moms tend to be the first to know and it frustrated me that I had to wait for others to catch up to speed.

I begged for help.

I was exhausted.

My pleas echoed in nowhere land.

I met with the Juvenile Probation Officer who, by the grace of God, was all too familiar with kids on the spectrum. The added personality disorder didn’t seem to throw her off. I wanted to hug her. We carefully crafted a new plan for Sarah to complete, within her abilities, which would satisfy the Judge and result in charges being dismissed.

The last step was to go before the Judge.

I wasn’t comfortable with the attorney being able to convey, with accuracy, the situation my daughter had been swept up in. He agreed to let me present her Pre-Disposition Sanction Agreement and the ‘whys’ behind the watered-down version.

Something overcomes you when you are in unfamiliar territories, like a courtroom, but armed with knowledge. I was scared but oddly confident in my presentation. My greatest fear was the prospect of letting Sarah get thrown to the wolves. She would never survive in a Juvenile Detention Facility.

The Judge concurred. Some various low-key volunteer stints, six weeks of Saturday Community Services, and the charges were dropped.

By the second month in her new private school, after some near-miss calls of potential suspensions, I got the big call within an hour of dropping her off.

“Come get your daughter.”

In her backpack that morning, her books had been replaced by a pair of my high heels, her sister’s skirt, and make-up.

In her mind, she could make a lot of friends and garner popularity by performing on the pole in the center of her homeroom.

She would not be returning.

The cycle was circling even faster now.

Catholic School it was.

They wanted to understand her. They really tried. Her teacher was full of compassion and guided Sarah to areas that fulfilled her and built her self-esteem.

It’s difficult to overcome mental illnesses. Combined with spectrum disorders, it was near impossible for even those most caring of teachers to understand her.

And, as she slipped through the cracks of the education system for those same reasons, she plummeted.

• Thank you for joining in part 14 of my series. We will travel through the hallways of the psychiatric world, the school system, and our family dynamics. I look forward to sharing more and hope you will see that none of us are alone.
• Please access the link below if you need to start with the Introduction to the series and many thanks. Each subsequent Part will also be linked at the bottom of the story, upon publication, for continuity and convenience.