Back to school

First off, I've got to thank that cute hedgeradventures correspondent for helping out while I've enjoyed a fair amount of free time at the pool with Liz. We're hoping Brian will continue to blog every few days or so (hint hint).

Now, on to a serious matter.

For months - actually more than a year, we've been on a waiting list at a number of pre-schools. We absolutely loved our school last year. It was an affiliate of Purdue University and the teachers were excellent and made perfect accommodations for Liz.

They even went so far as to have us bring in one her wooden three-step stools that was built by Liz's great-grandfather just so they could have the trade-school students make her one just like it for school. No extra cost, either.

How awesome was that?

They understood her condition and addressed it to the other children as necessary and talked with me about any issues as they arose. Overall, it was an outstanding school.

The problem: It's 30 miles from our house (and 45 minutes, at least, each way). Now that I'm working from home more it just makes no sense to drive that far to drop her off, just to drive an hour back home and then literally turn around a short time later to begin the drive again to pick her up.

So, the goal was to be patient and hope it would pay off with one of these closer pre-schools that we'd been on waiting lists for. Finally, we did find a school about 10 miles from home. Much Better. I jumped at the opportunity.

But this morning, I was thrilled when the so-called "ultimate" pre-school teacher (highly recommended by people in our community) called and told me she'd just gotten an opening. She goes by "Mrs. B," and runs the pre-school out of her house -- which just so happens to be less than a mile from our house, in our gigantic neighborhood.

We've heard nothing but glowing reports about this "Mrs. B." The kids love and adore her (allegedly). She is also well-respected by some teachers we've talked to about pre-schools.

So, I told her about Liz's condition. This is always my dilemma. I don't want Liz to show up and suddenly teachers are surprised or caught unprepared. Last year, I wrote a one-page paper for "Little Purdue" and they told me that they adored the information and found it so helpful.

So, I tried to tell "Mrs. B" a few of the same things during our brief phone conversation.

I explained that Liz might need help wiping when she went No.2 simply because her arms aren't long enough. Then, I also explained she falls a lot, but it's nothing to worry about because her bones are fine and she just gets back up.

The only reason I even mentioned the falling is because that's the first thing that other parents notice and ask me about. We had a great conversation and agreed that Brian would take Liz tomorrow for registration.

Later in the day, "Mrs. B" calls back to tell me that after considering Liz, she now can't accept her. Her reason is because she is just one person (no teacher's aides) and she fears that if Liz had to go to the bathroom and the other kids were cutting with scissors, then she'd be leaving all of the kids alone to go to the bathroom with Liz.

(Brian snide, sarcastic comment)
Yeah, and then I'm sure they'd all cut their fingers off at the nubs and there'd be HELL TO PAY and blood all over her new hardwood floors! She also brought up a bunch of other lame excuses, such as having a basement with a cement floor and she just wouldn't want Liz to fall and hurt herself. Well, A.) Who in the heck DOESN'T have a cement-floor basement? And B.) Why are they going into the basement in the first place? Seriously, woman.

Whatever ...

So, I hung up the phone feeling utterly rejected. Obviously, I could have fought a bit and said: "Why don't you at least meet her?"

But to me, it almost didn't seem worth it. Why have her meet Liz and then potentially still reject her? She's a private small pre-school and she's not required to accept everyone.

(Another Brian thought)
Also ... do I really want my kid being taught by some mamsy-pamsy wimp who's too afraid to take a kid with a couple of special needs dealing only with height issues? Why should we feel like we have to beg this old bag to take on the so-called "risk" or "bother" of teaching my daughter -- all without her even bothering to MEET HER?

Obviously, I think she over-reacted and began to worry and simply wasn't educated about little people and certainly knew nothing about achondroplasia.

I've second-guessed myself and worried that I told her too much information and perhaps I should have been more "vague." But I don't want to be misleading. I want teachers to know that Liz is a little person and she does need a few accommodations, and I suppose if they're not willing to do that - then we don't want to go there.

Perhaps, my teacher friends who read the blog (you know who you are) can e-mail me personally and let me know how you think I should handle school issues in the future. For instance, when should I contact her elementary about her condition?

Also, if there are any parents of little people kids who are in school - pass on any suggestions, as well.

Overall, I feel great about the pre-school she's going to attend (the one that doesn't have an old bag problem and that will accept Liz's condition). We'll have open house on Wednesday night and Liz and I are both looking forward to it.

The bottom line is getting rejected from "Mrs. B's" class won't impact Liz's academic future. It's not like she's going to get rejected from an ivy league school despite an impressive resume.

"Wow, this girl is awesome," The haughty dean of admissions would say, puffing on a pipe and wearing a smoking jacket. "Great grades, great extra-curriculars. But one glaring problem ... she didn't attend 'Mrs.B's' pre-school. Unfortunately, we must reject her. DENIED!"

Still, it hurts to be told "thanks, but no thanks," simply because your child is shorter than other kids her age. It's also unacceptable ... but what are you going to do?

Some people will never, ever understand how it feels to fight this battle.