Not On My Bingo Card

My son is now a full time college student in a dorm.

I’m typing this newsletter from a dimly lit motel room in the snowy hills of Vermont. We’re here for the family orientation weekend at a small college for kids with autism, ADHD, and other learning disabilities. Ian is about to do his first full semester in a dorm, away from home.

It’s taken us four years to get Ian ready for this challenge. He had to heal from epilepsy and the damage done during school closures. There were so many gaps in his education that had to be filled.

He tippy toed into college, while also attending a transition program and taking private social skill classes. He started with one online class, which had taped lectures and no live class discussion. During that semester, we waded into college norms and lingos. I taught him how to read a syllabus, navigate the online portals, and write an appropriate email to a professor.

DON’T WRITE TO YOUR PROFESSOR IN ALL CAPS!!!!!

Over three years, we slowly increased the challenges. After he nailed the online async class, he took one live online class. Then he did two online classes. After that, he had one in-person class. Each semester, I added one new challenge.

Last summer, he did a five-week summer program at this college — his first time away from home. This fall, he juggled four in-person classes at the local community college. With a B average and very little extra help, we knew he was ready. Last week, he placed into Calc 1 on his math placement test.

Since this is a college for quirky kids, they provide a long on-ramp before the semester begins on Monday. We parents will hang out here for three days. We listen to separate presentation from the students, and then meet up with them for meals. In the evening, Steve and I will explore Vermont’s pubs.

Honestly, full-time college with dorm-life was not on our bingo card. I never let myself hope that Ian would have this opportunity. I’m overjoyed, of course, but I’m not ready to let go of my worries.

As former college professors, we know that brains aren’t enough to be successful in college. Will Ian get overwhelmed with the social demands? Will people get offended by his verbal tics? Will he miss us?

As an autism mom, I’ve learned to manage my expectations. After 18 years of marginalization in public education, we got used to hearing “no” a lot. Too many bad things happened over the years, like when he got kicked out of three pre-schools.

During today’s Academic Advisor Meet and Greet, Ian’s advisors mentioned that many students at this college have academic trauma. The public education system told them in a thousand ways that they are failures and losers. At this school, staff help kids recover from those traumas.

Isn’t it crazy that schools cause trauma? Schools should be places of healing, places that cultivate learning. I have to believe that schools can nurture and challenge at the same time.

Schools also cause trauma in the parents of those children. When our kids fail academically or socially, it hurts us, too. When our kids aren’t allowed in the marching band and aren’t taught how to read, it hurts us, too. When our kids don’t go to the prom, it hurts us, too.

Despite these worries and trauma, my son is presently sleeping in a dorm room. The computer that he made from scratch is already set up on his desk.

My brain is still processing the fact that my son is in college. He even got a scholarship. At some point, I’ll relax and stop bracing for disaster. Maybe in another week.