Thursday, August 23, 2007

Institutionalize Me

Recently, at a Wal-Mart checkout stand four-people long, all brimming baskets with foodstuffs, and Miles doing this lovely new sound which I can only describe as a cross between a siren, a tyrannosaurs rex screech, and an ape grunt, I had the opportunity to thumb through an issue of People magazine. I was interested in reading about “Brittany and her Boys” but, unfortunately or as fate might have it, I fortunately came across an article about autistic children being killed in group homes. I made a very poor joke several week ago to my mother that if “The Baby” didn’t stop pulling the hair of every coiffed, ribbonded, curly haired toddler he saw at the park, pool and school I was going to institutionalize him. Several of the parents in this article had had to put their kids into homes for a variety of reasons and they had ended up dead. The bulk of the article was focused on getting quality people, with some training and education, to work with these children…always a good idea. But the thing that struck me the most was a couple who had their autistic son institutionalized because after several attempts at potty training with no success they didn’t know what else to do. On so many levels I was enraged, saddened, and apathetic. I felt so sorry for them…I felt like I could have helped them somehow put them in touch with the right people or told them about ABA or even just said…So what -diapers forever…you’ll always know he’ll fall asleep fed, dry and loved…OR SOMETHING. Such needless suffering for everyone involved…The child, the parents and even., I would imagine, although I don’t’ know, the aide who ultimately was responsible for this child’s death…The aid who had no training in dealing with autism it seems. I am not a blaming kind of person…but somewhere along this road I am traveling I might become one…I could care less about No child left behind, or low test scores because of high special needs population in certain districts…I probably should, but I don’t even care about this shit for my 9 year old…It’s a test…they are everywhere, ya know? It’s all about money now and the whole thing sickens me. I guess my point in writing this as it always has been since I started this blog is to get ideas out there to let people know that there are so many alternative so many choices…So next time you are at Wal-Mart thinking about having your yodling scrambling perfect baby boy institutionalized pick up a couple of People Magazines and think about how sweet they are when they sleep.

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