Another Lifetime Ago

When I adopted Marissa I lived in a county that had the dubious distinction of being the Meth Lab capital of Washington State. Our county was ranked number two in the nation for the number of meth lab raids. The hospital I worked at had a standard of care for evaluating children who were found during meth lab busts. Since the environment they came from was toxic, the child was forced to leave their home with little more than the clothes on his or her back. We had volunteers who provided the ER with small backpacks loaded with school supplies, toothbrushes and a small stuffed animal. Like the rest of the community, the school Marissa attended was familiar with children whose parents were addicted to drugs and alcohol.

When we came home to Minnesota, things were different. We moved to a community whose educators seemed naïve to the problems of children affected by prenatal exposure to drugs and alcohol. School became a nightmare for me. Marissa was in trouble all the time. She came home despondent. Yet, every morning she woke up in a good mood, got ready and excitedly left for school. She was going to will herself to have a good day. I entered the world of Individual Education Plans (IEP). Eventually, Marissa’s positive attitude became dim. I watched the light go out on her hope. She became clincally depressed.

When we arrived in the community, there were not many opportunities for a masters-prepared nurse. The contract at the local hospital for newly hired nurses was horrible. I would not be guaranteed any hours. I would be required to accept rotating shifts; I would have to float to all the units in the hospital – essentially fill any holes in anyone’s schedule. And, I would have to do that while getting paid for half my experience. And, I wouldn’t get paid for my extra education level at all. Uh, no! So, I ended up teaching at a community college over an hour away. I was a clinical instructor and oversaw students in clinical in hospitals as far as two hours away from my home. I lectured sometimes too, in both the LPN and RN program. I taught fluid and electrolytes, cardiac, pulmonary, renal and burn care. My position wasn’t a full-time position. Every semester I had to find a new place for myself. Since I was teaching medical-surgical nurses and my experience had been in critical care nursing, I felt I needed to improve my medical-surgical nursing knowledge. In addition to teaching, I worked every other weekend night shift at a small, very small community hospital. I was the only RN staffing a 12-bed hospital. Our usual census was 4-6 patients. I worked with an LPN. I also was responsible for anything that came through the Emergency Room door. My husband, in the meantime, was working in a position that required him to travel.

My career and the needs of my family had come to an impasse. I could not be two hours away and be available at the drop of a hat to go to school and deal with a school issue. The school could not educate and did not understand Marissa. The relationship I had with the school was strained. I brought snacks to the IEP meetings. I tried to engage them as if I were a professional talking about the needs of another child, a child in whom I was not emotionally invested. But, truthfully, I didn’t think the school was even trying to meet my child’s educational needs. I would sometimes sit in IEP meetings and imagine that the teachers had made origami with the pages of information I had given them about FASD. My breaking point came when Marissa transferred to Junior High. Elementary school had been difficult; Jr. High was impossible. So, both Marissa and I came home. Our first year of homeschooling began with Marissa in 8th-grade.

I came into homeschooling because I was dissatisfied with the public schools. My husband and I have both become convicted that homeschooling is right for our family. Homeschooling frees us from the public school schedule. We are able to work around our families needs. Besides, learning is fun! When I see Marissa light up when she grasps a new concept, I know I wouldn’t have wanted to allow another adult to have witnessed her light bulb moment. But, the very best thing that has happened since coming home to school is that I see my daughter’s atypical brain development as part of who she is and not something that I need to cut away. We develop strategies to help her to live on her own with minimal assistance from others. This is very different from the school’s plan that mandated that Marissa be “independent at the level of her same aged peers.” The school wanted Marissa to act as if she didn’t have FASD.

What do I miss? Well, my husband and I sat down to talk with a financial planner the other night. I don’t usually think of money at all. But, when you are talking to a financial planner, it is kind of hard not to think about money. I miss the security of being able to invest. When our water softener needed replaced and our emergency savings account was dry, we had to finance that purchase. I didn’t like that. But the thing I miss the most is talking to big people! Marissa is nearly an adult, but she still wants to talk about the latest Johnny Depp movie, who’s dating who in Hollywood and in her Youth Group, what people are wearing. As much as possible, I try to go there with her because I want to be interested in what she is interested in. But, truthfully, I prefer communicating in abstracts and ideas. So, I fill my need for adult conversation by blogging.

Looking Back is a part of Home Education Week!
Check Dana’s blog for links to other homeschooler’s stories!