Today was Ella’s big CSE meeting. John and I walked into a conference room where eight people were seated around a table, ready to discuss Ella. There would’ve been nine, but the principal couldn’t make it. The school psychologist, counselor, special education teacher, physical therapy specialist, speech pathologist, the CSE meeting chair, Ella’s current teacher, and her future teacher had all convened to decide Ella’s future, and ultimately it was decided that Ella will begin transitioning into the inclusion classroom, where the special education teacher works with a general education teacher.
Halfway through the meeting I started crying. It was very unprofessional of me. Someone handed me a box of tissues and I proceeded to blow snot into half of them.
“I feel like such a boob!” I said. I said that. In public.
“Noooo!” said eight people all at once. They gazed upon me sympathetically.
I am such a boob.
I am overwhelmed, grateful, and thankful- which sounds the same as grateful but the sentiment bears repeating- for these people. For these people who pour their hearts and souls into their work. I would throw a parade for them if I could. With fireworks. And free ice cream. And maybe some hot air balloon rides.
Ella’s teacher cried, too.
“I didn’t want her to go,” she said.
It’s unbelievable how much progress Ella has made in school. She has gone from a complete looney-bird to a real live kindergartner who just happens to need some extra help.
I lobbied hard to keep my twins together, and in the end they’re going to be split up anyway. Such is life. I didn’t ask if they would move Daniel with her. I felt that might be going a little too far. I mean, there’s being a boob and then there’s being a major boob.
All in all, a successful meeting. Afterward, John and I faced the fact that we can never, ever move lest we lose the incredible support our school district has given us.
“I thought the meeting went really well,” I said. We sat in silence for a moment. I sniffled.
Life went on.