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THE VOICE
Anne Arundel County Chapter

Volume 6, Issue 7

  Page 5

back to work. But more growth spurts were coming.  Changes in his environment occurred.  At 12 years old he went into an emotional crisis.  I saw it coming but no one in his educational environment took my warnings seriously.  There were violent outbursts, delusional episodes, and aggression we had never seen before.  And that's just a part of it. Our special son, who up to this point had overcome the negative prophecies foretold of him, was now facing the worst times we could have imagined.  Our family felt constantly invaded as we were required to tell our story over and over again to complete strangers - psychiatrists, psychologists, therapists, and school officials.


And it was always the worst stories that mattered the most.  What I really disliked was telling the most awful parts while he was sitting in the room.  I later learned to go with my instincts, even if it wasn't what the professionals felt was appropriate.  I would ask for him to leave the room or come in after a certain point.  No one wants to hear the worst about themselves on display to be judged by a host of strangers.  I wanted our son to leave the psychiatrist's office with his self-respect and dignity, as well as the medical prescriptions.

Believe it or not the most trying days were yet to come.  We got the call to come and get him for the last time.  This time he was removed from school because he was considered a threat.  The good that came out of this dark moment was that now everyone believed me, and I was no longer considered a frantic mother asking for unnecessary services; now nothing was beyond my request for services to accommodate our son.  But we still had to endure another struggle.  It took nine months of home teaching before we got the right placement.  This was because the first placement, which I had thought would be the ideal school, turned out to be a bad match for him.  His behaviors continued there, and repeated school suspensions soon got him removed.  The team then recommended residential services, because it seemed that the county had no other placements that could accommodate his severe needs.  But I could not fathom my 12-year-old son living away from us, where we could only visit him on weekends.  Luckily I hadn't given up on him as quickly as they had.  I had also done my homework and I knew that there was another placement option. When I suggested it to the team, the leader said that they hadn't thought of that option - I'm glad I did.

It ended up being the placement he needed to become Joell again.  It had been so long since we had really been able to enjoy our son's bright personality and interaction.  Finally he was appropriately placed.  Finally he became stable.  Finally we got our son back.  Finally he smiled again.  Finally he expressed things to us.  Finally!!  He was now able to identify

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Spotlight Family of the Month
by Chrystal Irving

When they told me, I didn't talk for two days.  I was grief stricken.  I guess not talking about it allowed the millions of thoughts to flow through my mind and my emotions.  This thing called autism that they said my son had.  A lifelong disability they said.  He looked so cute and cuddly.  He was such a quiet child.  He was hardly ever a fuss.  As he got older, I noticed quite a bit of difference in him, compared to our first child.  But as time went on I realized the differences were who he was. 


Please introduce yourself, son: My name is Joell Christopher Irving and I'm 17 years old.  I was born in October, 1984.  My life now being 17 is somewhat good except for stressful times.  The things I like about my life is that a lot of people seem to like me, I have my own room that I can change around any time, and I'm in a good school.

In the early years there were delays but lots of loving support helped us through.  School days brought the greatest challenge.  He experienced so much stress and anxiety and soon it filled our world with that same level of tension, both in our home and in his school environment.  What really alarmed me was when he, at 9 years old, told me that he would rather die and go to heaven right then than go to school everyday.  His words were so strong and pointed that it cut me to the core.  I knew there was a lot going on underneath the surface.  I made the decision to quit my job and educate myself about my son's disability and how it affected him.   No one else seemed to have any answers for me.  I knew I had to become his voice within his school environment. The more I understood, the better I could speak for him. 


After a while it made me proud of having a son with such differences.  Gaining more knowledge of it consumed me· the books, the seminars, the forums, the workshops.  I got hold of every piece of information I could find on Autism Spectrum Disorders, Pervasive Developmental Disorders, and Asperger's Syndrome.  Early on, one of the books that impressed me most was "Different but not Dumb", because that's what I wanted to instill in our very intelligent child.  I found that it also inspired me.  Soon our home was filled with resources that I shared with siblings, cousins, and grandparents, because I was determined that he would not be seen as "the retarded child" in the family, but rather the one who overcame the most odds to be great at whatever he was.  I often say "he just has too much genius and it got confused."

Things became stable after my venture into educating myself and advocating for him.  I didn't even realize that that's what I had become-- his advocate.  I just called it his voice.  I even went
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