Reid is 18.
When he was 5, I was a naive yet stubborn advocate for full inclusion. The look I got from the preschool administrator then was, "you've got no idea lady." I didn't. But I prayed for it.
When he was 7, we homeschooled. I corralled typical neighborhood kids to join us and paid facilitators to integrate them. I tried to make it work.
When he was 9, we enrolled him at the local elementary school. I bought stacks of books for the teacher and told her how I thought it should be done. I tried to control it.
When he was 10, I got flowers at an IEP (more like memorial) and they showed us the door. I stopped believing it was possible.
For 8 years, Reid spent varying lengths of time at 4 of our city's finest non-public special ed schools. Typical role models were noticeably absent. I forgot my previous prayers.
Last summer, in an odd turn of events, he matriculated into our local Torrey Pines High School, a California distinguished school, just 5 miles from home with many familiar faces and families we know.
This morning, I dropped him off at the curb with a motley throng of quintessential American teens. He walked by a table of donuts for sale, said hi to a girl he knew there, and headed up the ramp to meet his aide.
I still stalk. At least long enough to record him capping off the morning announcements with flair. In unison...with other members of the school body.
Is there a prayer you once prayed that you've left for dead? Pray it again. Timing is everything.
And likewise, all the prophets who have spoken, from Samuel and his successors onward, also announced these days. Acts 3:23-25
If you wake me each morning with the sound of your loving voice, I’ll go to sleep each night trusting in you. Psalm 143:6-8
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