Unlike many kids on the spectrum, Katie adores variety. This tends to make transitions go a bit more smoothly—at least on the surface. So it did not surprise me that Katie plunged into her new classroom without any hesitation. Just as I’d suspected, many of the boys had trouble making eye contact and saying hi. Katie, on the other hand, would hear the aide prompting the child and say, “Hi, Roshun” on her own.

But it was also undeniable that these people understood autism in a way that the staff at my school district did not.

Ms. Nav had planned a group art project to help ease Katie’s transition. Katie happily settled in and demonstrated her scissor skills. I asked Ms. Nav how the observation had gone. She sighed. “They were asking Katie to sit far too long without sensory breaks. That’s probably the cause of a lot of the problems. And when they got behavior, well….” She searched for words. “Let’s just say my aides will respond differently.”

“As in appropriately?” I said.

“Yeah,” she laughed.

The second case manager from my school district showed up. She had a copy of an IEP that she tried to get me to sign.

“I don’t want to sign this,” I said. “Not until my advocate has reviewed it. That’s why I have her.”

“Don’t you want Katie to start school on Monday?”

“Yes, especially now that we’ve told her she’s coming here. But you’ve had since Tuesday to get the paperwork together. This last minute scramble isn’t my fault.”

The case manager muttered some excuses about being sick and struggling with the new software. I told her Geri and I had planned to meet over the weekend so I could sign something that would allow Pleasanton to proceed. She didn’t like this idea. She continued to pressure me to sign the unidentified IEP document.

The case manager was unaware of the revised IEP, the one that included the school district’s agreement to pay for an independent behavioral assessment and psychological testing. She said she hadn’t been in the office all day, gesturing with her smartphone. I asked if she had spoken to Geri. She didn’t know Geri had called, because you know, she hadn’t been in her office. Ms. Nav said, “I’m pretty sure you can check voicemail from your phone.”

The case manager wrinkled her nose and bent over her phone. It took her a long time to access voicemail. She listened once, maybe twice, and then called Geri. The exchange started pleasantly, but slowly grew agitated. The case manager stepped outside.

“I kind of liked Geri,” Ms. Nav said.

I nodded. “Me too.”

Ms. Nav told me more about her classroom. The Pleasanton Behaviorist stopped by. She had a copy of the Dublin Behavior Intervention Plan (BIP), but it was the 2010 version. When I asked, she said that was the copy my district had provided. I said I’d forward the 2012 version. Katie periodically stopped her art project to use the trampoline. “We have embedded O.T. like the Dublin program,” the Behaviorist said. “That’s going to make all the difference for Katie.”

The case manager returned. I saw Ms. Nav helping her with her phone. The aides took the other kids off for mainstreaming. Katie wanted to go too. Before I could intervene, Ms. Nav suggested the playground, and Katie happily agreed.

As we walked to the playground, the case manager said she had no problem using the revised IEP. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ms. Nav smirk. We exchanged small talk as Katie climbed on the play structure. Ms. Nav said, “Do I need to worry about her up there?”

“Maybe,” I said, “when she interacts with other kids.”

“Oh sure,” said Ms. Nav. “She has autism. I meant did I need to worry about her falling off or getting stuck?” I shook my head. “Good, that will make it easy for Sharon. I picked an awesome aide for Katie.”

“You got to pick her?” I wanted the case manager to hear this, but she was engrossed in her phone.

“Yes, based on what I knew about Katie. The more I interact with her, the more I think I made the right choice.”

The case manager stopped fiddling with her phone and we chatted about autism. Finally Ms. Nav told her there was no reason to stay, and she departed.

Ms. Nav watched Katie swoop down the slide. “I know you wanted to keep Katie in her class. And once I visited, I could see why. Those kids are way more verbal than the ones in mine. But overall, my class will work far better for Katie.”

She looked at me and I said, “I know.”

NOTE: For those of you who missed the earlier parts to this story (or simply want to refresh your memory), you can find them here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, and Part 9. My IEP stories are never short.

Until next time,
Cynthia Patton