Rose, On the Field of Play                        February 2006

Our refrigerator is cluttered with a display of friend’s and family pictures from last years Christmas cards, colorful magnets from various charities, school announcements, a random sample of pictures from Erin and Katie and Rose across the years, and some clues of the kids latest adventures. In the middle of this happy confusion is Rose’s report card from her summer swim lessons she had taken between Kindergarten and 1^st grade. All the necessary skills water adjustment were detailed out; blowing bubbles, alternating arm strokes, jumping in, and dunking under water and holding her breath (with one hand stuck out the water signing one, two, three for dramatic effect) and comfortably navigating the three foot section of the pool on her own two feet and more.    Every skill acquired and graded “passing”.  Rose had enjoyed her 2-week swim course with no extra accommodations other than what two patient instructors could easily find within themselves.  And I think about how close Rose was to not participating in this wonderful social experience because of our own parental uncertainties. I’ve heard hesitations from a surprising number of parents of similar aged children with Down syndrome; “Oh, you haven’t seen him try to play.  He couldn’t do it.” Or “No, I don’t think she’s ready.” Certainly we can all make claims to being overwhelmed but this isn’t about being ready, this is about belonging.  Sports, after school, are often the first step taken into the wider community beyond our family.  And its important that these steps are taken each time with our age group peers, each succeeding step taken with these familiar places  reinforcing our sense place in the our community.

Six-year old Rose’s own initial hesitations were easily countered by her swim instructors’ assurances.  And her successes came, class after class, aided by her recent growth spurt, now being able to literally keep her head above water, a very basic skill and important confidence builder.  By the end of the two weeks of classes Rose was enjoying a big step change in her pool adventures.  One especially sweet treat; she was no longer limited to tentatively hugging the edge of the pool, or hanging on to Mom or Dad, she was free to independently explore the 3 foot section of the pool wherever her interests  and own body could carry her.

More important than her own accomplishments, Rose again showed a very perceptive and welcoming sense of those around her.  One young classmate was very hesitant to try the water, he spent the first few days couched high and dry several feet away on the pool deck with his slightly over protective mom hovering nearby as the rest of the class sat on the steps of the shallow end of the pool taking instruction. Cheryl watched from outside the pool area with all the other parents as Rose took a supportive interest in this reluctant student.  Rose was probably following the lead of the instructors as they patiently tried to coax the young boy to take his first steps into the pool.  After several days and much encouragement he finally worked up the courage to attempt a seat on the top step.  Rose joined him, ignoring her own lessons for the time being, and tried to draw him into a game of grab-the-underwater-ring, dropping rings in the water one step below him, giving him a challenge just within his reach and trying to draw him into the pool step by step. 

Certainly the two instructors were good with kids, able to patiently find the edge of each students comfort zone and encourage them to take the next step, this is an admirable skill found in all successful teachers.  Two teachers with the patience to find each students ability level, with enough creativity to adapt the challenges to each child were met with the reward of six eager and successful swimmers of all different abilities.  The teachers and students were all better off for having Rose be a part of their class.  She fit right into the range of abilities and brought just as much enthusiasm as all the others.  The benefits went both ways as should happen in a positive learning setting but this might not have ever happened if we, Rose’s parent’s, hadn’t taken the simple steps to simply show up with her and give her a little starting boost of confidence.

Last fall I felt this tension sharply within myself when I was getting ready to register Rose for the town’s soccer clinics offered to five and six-year-olds by our local soccer club.  We had already been there with Erin and Katie when they had joined their fellow kindergarteners in simple soccer drills disguised as games with goofy names and a short three-on-three scrimmages on a kid size field.  No goalies, no score keeping and lots of random energy ensured fun for all the kids but that was then and this was now.  Although Erin and Katie were very small for their age they were both healthy, wiry bundles of potential athletic prowess or at least that was my positive parental perception.  I do know that neither of them carried any stigma of denied opportunities, the day when girls were denied access to sports was at least twenty years in the past. 

Rose however was different, or at least I thought so.  Although I had already seen her join in a few casual family soccer games in our back yard and knew she was enthusiastic when we talked over the idea of playing town soccer I still wasn’t sure what to expect.  I knew she was interested and capable but I was uncertain how she would be accepted.  I wasn’t sure if there would be any resistance to the idea of a kid with Down syndrome playing soccer along side everybody else.  Was it just my ignorance and my own fears?  It hadn’t been that long since people I consider very reasonable and positive had offered the possibility of Rose going to a self-contained kindergarten classroom as a reasonable option for consideration. Do we find our own way or do we settle for that place that other people think is appropriate for us?  I’d like to think that I’m a good enough person to choose the true place but I know I’m not that simple.  The pressures I feel to conform to other people’s expectations are very real.  As I remind Erin and Katie on a regular basis, humans are pack animals, the pressure and urge to conform to the majority’s wishes is very strong. 

And on the practical side, to make matters worse, I had let the signup date slip by.  My promises to Rose, could only be fulfilled by a direct call the league president.  My only courage came from not having the strength to face Rose’s disappointment.  I made the call.

“Hi, Frank, this Chris McAuliffe,” I stared hesitantly

“Hi, Chris, what can I do for you?”

Frank was a minor town celebrity. His efforts in support of youth soccer programs had helped the soccer club grow into a town institution.  His family also belonged to the same church as our family and we had exchanged one or two conversations over the years.

“Um, I missed the sign up date for fall soccer for my daughter and I was wondering if there was still room in the Youth Development Program.”  That’s local soccer code for a half dozen five and six-year-olds chasing a soccer ball around a field for an hour.

“Well, it’s looking pretty full.  We’ve had more kid’s signup late than we expected.”

“I’d be willing to coach,” I blurted out.  This was a bit of any overstatement on.  my part.  I was certainly willing but not very capable; soccer was something I had mostly figuring out from watching Erin and Katie play.  My coaching abilities were limited to being able to phone call players and tell them where and when to meet.

“Well, that would help.  Is this for Rose?”

“Uh, yeah.” Foolishly, I had attempted to side step the issue by not mentioning Rose’s name.  What was I thinking?  In our part of town Rose was more recognizable than the Beatles in the 1960’s.  But I had not wanted to face this moment, I’m not that brave.  When push comes to shove I wasn’t sure if I could handle a confrontation.

“Okay. Fine. That’s great.”  Frank didn’t miss a beat. “We could use some help with coaching.  Have you done Youth Development before?”

“Uh, not since Katie but that was a while ago, maybe six or seven years ago.”

“Yeah, it’s changed.  We’re a little more organized now.  We have the PDO coaches running the clinic and the parent coaches just need to help out when we break up into groups.  All the kids get a soccer ball and a pretty nice uniform, too.  I’m just not sure we’ll be ready for all the extra kids the first week.  We might want Rose and the other late sign-ups to come the second week when we are more organized.  Would that be okay?”

“Oh, sure, no problem.”  I’m thinking I would gladly trade one week for a season.

“Ok, then you can just get the sign up sheet online at our website, do you know where that is?”

“Yep, I can find it, no problem.”

“Just fill it out and send it in.  I’ll call you about the coaching info.”

“Thanks”

As easy as that, no special concerns or considerations, and the payoff was immediate.  Rose was thrilled with the news.  I needed that immediate feedback, both times.

Opening day came soon enough. There was no waiting to the second week. Rose was excited to get her new soccer ball and uniform and join her new team mates, six other girls, out on the soccer field.  They all had two things in common; a desire to play soccer and a willingness to make new friends.  The concept of what soccer is to a 5 and 6-year-olds is somewhere between a mystery and an abstract mathematical concept.  I’m guessing that most of the kids knew that it involved kicking a ball, but not too much understanding beyond that.  Initially, much time was spent reinforcing the field boundaries and exactly whose goal was whose.  Really to them this was a rite of passage as much as starting kindergarte, or losing their first tooth, a rite of passage that they look forward to checking off to validate their own growing list of accomplishments.  But more than that, this was a shared rite of passage, another in a series of life accomplishments that confirmed their membership in the community and the growing reassurance that they belong to each other. 

So was Rose the best soccer player on her team?  Was she the worst?  Well, no and no. Should I even be judging the soccer talent of Rose and the other girls?  No, of course not.  But, why do I?  I’m insecure, I’m still expecting somebody to make a comment, questioning Rose’s right to belong or her parents or the soccer league’s judgment.  That never happened, thankfully, but I can see my own weaknesses a little more clearly; I still tend to wish the differences away, hoping they’ll blend into the background, and I hesitate to adapt to differences and openly celebrate them.  I still struggle with exactly what this is and how to do to pull it off without coming across as overly dramatic or preachy.  Fortunately, sometimes a soccer game is just a soccer game.  I should have known from years of watching and sometimes coaching Erin and Katie that most sports are about working together as a team towards a common goal, more important then winning is a sense of a team belonging together, sharing adversities and persisting and making a noble effort to strive for a goal together.  There is always a wide range of talent on the field but the best teams always come together, win or lose, and form a meaningful bond. 

But I’m getting a head of myself here; this was youth development soccer, nobody keeps scores, there’s no winning or losing.  This is about learning a few soccer skills in a kindergarten, center-type setting followed by a half an hour scrimmage, three on three on a small field, with little pop-up goal nets and generating enough confidence and enjoyment to want to come back next year.. 

This was a warm autumn, sometimes Rose would tire and request a water break, in the whiny voice that only six-year-olds can do, “I’m tiiiiiiiiiiired.” I was a little sensitive to this; is she keeping up? Are her leaky heart valves holding her back?  Does she know better then me?  Am I over reacting?  Well, yes of course I was, some six-year-old kids get hot and tired after 5 or 10 minutes of all out soccer on a hot autumn afternoon.  Rose did and a few of the other girls let me know as well. 

The scrimmages are mean to be low-key affairs with no goalies there are lots of scoring. The goals are celebrated with a few small cheers with the ball quickly tossed out on the field to keep the action moving.  Myself and all the other parent-helpers try to keep the brief celebrations low-key but I’m pretty sure I over reacted just a bit when Rose broke clear at middle field, dribbled downfield ahead of the scrambling pack and  drilled the ball into the net.  For both of us it was a special thrill not to be missed.  It was an exclamation point on my confidence.  She will have her moments of athletic joy. She’s part of the game. 

Spring rolled around and baseball season opening day was drawing near.  Excitement was building in Rose’s kindergarten class.  ‘Are you playing?’, ‘What team are you on?’, ‘Who’s on your team?’

  Sign ups had gone well.  The registration form had a nice reassurance that no child could be turned away because of a disability.  I had to read it several times to make sure I was reading it correctly.  In the end, I decided not to mention Rose’s Down syndrome on the application because I didn’t think it was relevant, she wouldn’t be asking for or need any special accommodations. Rose’s interest and our backyard wiffle-ball games had already shown me that she had the desire and the skills to play. Little league has done a good job of breaking the game into a range of age-group specific skill-levels that make the game more accessible to younger kids.  Rose would be playing Tee-ball with her kindergartener age peers, I mean friends. 

The first game was a success.  The warm up catches between pairs of players went well; nobody got hit in the nose and the ball actually landed in a glove once or twice.  And the game itself was a well orchestrated, parent-guided event.  Cheryl and I were the co-coaches but most of the parents also involved often taken the field to stand reassuringly behind their child. Keep in mind that this is tee-ball not baseball.  Full blown baseball with its dense layer of rules and strategies and long periods of situation setting inactivity followed by brief moments of explosive action is a dense mystery to all but the most dedicated fans.  Tee-ball is a nice entry level version that seeks to reinforce the basic thrills of the game; the ball-on-bat crack felt through the palm of your hands, the sweet surprise of the ball nestling in the web of your glove, running the bases to the cheers of a crowd, the excitement of a pack of fielders chasing down a ground ball and then attempting to have to loft it the general direction first base. But mostly the feeling of belonging to a team; warming up together, sitting on the bench waiting to take your turn at bat and coming on and off the field as a team. 

The next day, first thing at school the teachers were exposed to a burst of this shared energy as the kids spilled off the buses into the school, excited conversations, rich with the fresh memory of their baseball exploits; ‘Did you play?’, ‘I got a hit’, ‘ I’m on the White Sox’, ‘Red Sox’, ‘Yankees’.  The buzz was full of more words then could be heard but the energy level was unmistakably positive and Rose was right in the middle of it. 

The season went well, it was warm spring and the two evening games a week clicked by smoothly and May was soon running into June.  But I was avoiding one challenge, after three or four games, the players were supposed to move up to hitting the coaches pitching, only resorting to pulling the batting tee out after the pressure of too many missed swings.  In a few years, they would know to call one miss a strike and three misses a strikeout but now they would just know it as a disappointment.  Stepping up to bat was stepping onto a stage to perform in front of ten teammates plus ten players from the other team and all parents, siblings and various relatives.  Even hitting the ball off the stationary batting tee in front of this somewhat distracted, generally supportive crowd of about 50 kids and adults could be a challenge.  Many of the players regularly took several attempts to snatch the ball off the top of the tee and send it out into an infield packed with swarming fielders. Sometimes they’d swing well above the ball catching nothing but air and sent themselves spinning to the ground.  Sometimes they’d hack low, hitting the mid-tee, taking the ball and tee down like they were chopping down a small tree. Eventually every batter would feel the excitement of the ball being propelled onto the field by the swing of their bat and the shouts of encouragement and chaos of running the bases could start up all over again. 

But were they ready to leave the tee behind and face the challenge of a pitched ball?  I didn’t think so.  And I convinced myself that it wasn’t just because I was Rose’s dad.  I had seen the other kids struggle as well.  I was protecting them all from embarrassment. .Although, I knew it would be tough for Rose.  In our occasional backyard wiffle ball games she did reasonably well hitting my pitches when it was just the two of us but add just one spectator and her distraction level instantly went to unmanageable levels. But honestly my concerns went beyond Rose, while their were clearly one or two players that were ready to hit a pitched ball most were, in my opinion, just not ready.  I successfully deflected the first suggestions from other coaches that we put the tee aside and go to ‘coaches pitch’.  It worked for a few games but eventually I ran into reality when one coach answered me, “well, we’ve already hit pitching in our last few games, they did fine.  Your team can use the tee if you want but we’re going to hit pitching.”  OK, peer pressure is a powerful motivating force for coaches as well as players; there was no way we were going to hit off the tee now, it was time to move on. 

We were home team so we took the field first, watching the other team bat through their order in the success reinforcement approach of tee-ball, our fielders working each batted ball over to first base to the cheers and directions of their parents, never quiet catching the batter.  Finally the last batter cleared the bases with a ‘home run’, a tee-ball guarantee, and our team brought it in meeting at our bench, gloves thrown on the ground and the search for batting helmets started. 

As coach I took the field standing about 15 or 20 feet in front of home plate waiting to pitch to the our first batter.  Cheryl and some other parents helped line the kids up, batting order determined by the random rush of kids finding a seat on the bench. The first four no sitting with the batting helmets placed swimmingly on their heads, Rose was sitting third.  The first batter came to the plate, Devon, a little kid that had a habit of swinging as hard as he could, almost always missing ball, the tee and anything else, the unspent bat energy would send him spinning to the ground.  After a brief coach-to-parent-to-player debate/conversation Devon finally settled on which side of the plate he was going to bat from and which hand went on top of the other.  To my infinite surprise he caught the very first pitch with a level, perfectly timed swing and lined the ball just past me, up the middle of the infield.  Five fielders piled onto the ball and before they could hurl it in the generally uncertain direction of first base Devon stood smiling on the base, basking in the warm cheers of his teammates and collective parents.  This was the one percent of excitement that more than offsets the ninety nine percent of baseball boredom when you are flushed with joy in the middle of the excitement.   

Alexia was next, a tall girl for her age, she had trouble timing her swing and waved at more than a half a dozen pitches with a nervous disinterest.  The pace of the game ground to a halt.  After a few more misses, I suggested tentatively to her, “maybe we’ll try the tee.” Alexia redeemed herself by sending the ball air borne onto the playing field with her very next swing.  Her batting helmet rolled off her head and landed in her wake as she did the playful skipping to first base that passes for little kids running as fast as they can. 

Rose came to the plate next, settling into the lefty’s batter’s box, helmet rocking on her head, the smallest bat mom could find held tight and pulled back behind her, she looked focused and ready. 

“Ok, Rose, ready, watch the ball.”  I held if out in front, trying to grab her attention before I started my underhand pitching motion, repeating the same routine I had started with the first two batters.  The ball left my hand and arched towards Rose.  I aimed inside, on her hands, the place where the bat spends the most amount of time during a swing, or the coach’s best chance for hitting the ball on the bat.  Rose swung, her timing looked good.  The bat and the ball were both a blur as they seemed to occupy the same space for an instant and then somehow the ball was behind her.  She had missed it. 

The parent/catcher collected the ball and tossed it back to me.  Encouraging baseball-type banter started up, around the field and on both benches, “Good swing, Rose.”  “Nice swing.” “Get a piece of it.” 

Rose reset herself.  I held the ball out to her.  “Ready?” I caught her eye and then tossed the pitch in, aiming for the same magic spot.  Rose swung and this time bat met ball and the ball shot down the third baseline.  In an instant I realized I had the best seat on the field, I watched the ball roll onto the infield out of the corner of my eye but stayed focused on Rose as she uncoiled from her swing and turned towards first.  I could see her face fill with excitement, a smile exploding on her face and her eyes going wide with joy.  As she turned and sprinted for first base, balancing her helmet on her head with her arms pumping hard, I knew she could do this.  I had been wrong to hold her and the rest of the team back.  As the game played on, I saw that same smile of accomplishment flash across every player’s face,  it became obvious that not only could everybody hit a pitched ball, they hit one better than off the tee.  I don’t know why, It’s a small mystery; maybe they just needed the excitement of a new challenge to grab there attention. 

The first year of Rose’s sports career has been an enlightening and positive experience for all of us.  In the small-family, sparse-neighborhoods of today, kids best chance to get together to play is on the sports playing field.   This is the extension of the group socializing that starts in her school.  We are looking to reinforce those friendships, and to support her need to belong just as we did for Erin and Katie.  It’s no just about learning to play soccer, or swim or play baseball; it’s about learning to play these games with your friends.  Sharing a learning experience is a wonderful way to form a bond.  Did Rose have to pre-qualify for this?  Only by wanting to belong. 

So her abilities or perceived lack of abilities factor into whether or not she should be allowed to play?  And who is the judge of this athletic ability? We, her parents, or the adults organizing the events or even the casual reactions of other parents.?  Was Rose the best player on the field?  Well, for brief flushes, she was; the well timed leap into the deep end of the pool, dribbling a soccer ball on a momentary breakaway or putting a swinging bat to the pitched ball to excite a crowd of forty or so players and parents.  Was Rose the worst player?  Yes, again sitting down on the soccer field when she was too tired to go on, refusing to take the baseball field for another slow round of the other teams at bat or dissolving into tears in Mom’s arms because she doesn’t want to bat again herself.  We could let these set backs discourage us and pull Rose out of participating until ‘she was ready’ or we could take a look around and realize that with all young kids participating in any group activity there is an extremely wide range of abilities and reactions possible, from everybody.  There’s nothing that’s not typical.  This shared experience of living and growing through struggles and accomplishments is the fabric that pulls her together with her friends, and these are moments to be shared at the precious brief time they are available.  To withhold Rose until ‘she is ready’ is to withhold her forever.  To place Rose in a segregated setting, whether sports or school, is to hold her back from the reality of life. To allow Rose, to encourage Rose, to support Rose to participate in the greater community of school or sports allows her the only chance she’ll have to weave her own unique place into the fabric of our community.  She’ll be different, the patterns of her connections to other people will be different, but when you look closely you’ll realize so are everyone else’s.  The only thing we have in common is that we all belong to each other.

Statement on Inclusion                               January 4, 2006

Much of the progress to bring Inclusion to CT schools is due to the 3 year-old resolution of the P,J, et al vs. State of CT Board of Education.  This was a class action lawsuit brought filed on behalf of students with Intellectual Disabilities who were generally excluded from the regular classroom as a matter of practice.  Because of the settlement, CT towns are required to show significant progress towards educating students with Intellectual Disabilities in the regular classroom.  There's an Experts Advisory Panel that meets several times a year to monitir the progress.  Here is my 3 minute address from the audience to visitors part of the program.  (and, yes, I really need to write every word down and then read it word for word.)

Good morning.  I am Chris McAuliffe.  I live in Windsor, CT and I have 3 girls in the public schools there; a senior at the high school,  an 8^th grader in the middle school and a first grader.  My youngest has Down syndrome. 

I am generally very happy with the efforts made to educate my daughter in an inclusive setting in the regular classroom.  She was fully included in her Kindergarten classroom receiving most of her therapies in the classroom. She did receive some PT and speech after school one day a week.  Now in first grade she’s been fully included again and this year she receives all her therapies in the classroom although we are consistently fielding challenges from the PT and Speech therapist to get one-on-one time with our daughter. I don’t have a problem with that as an option, my concern is that it seems to be the first option considered and they don’t seem to have any specific training for therapy in a classroom type setting to draw on.  I would imagine that many young children with an Intellectual Disability are receiving a range of services like my daughter.  Although her OT, PT and Speech therapies are only 4 hours a week having the therapists prepared to work successfully and confidently in the regular classroom would go a long way towards setting a positive tone for inclusion in the regular classroom as the first option for the entire school day.

But she has been fully included for Kindergarten and 1^st grade for all her academics.  When I think about that I realize how very fortunate we are to live with the benefits of the PJ settlement.  Windsor school district, while having been identified as one of the 16 worse districts in the initial PJ assessments but has made wonderful progress since then.  Systemic changes are noted at the elementary level where schools have been reorganized to create a large number of co-taught classrooms, teaming SPED teachers with regular ed teachers.  My daughter is early in her academic career, so I’ve only seen two of these classrooms. Kindergarten and 1^st grade, but I’ve seen two very positive accepting teaching teams and she’s done well because of them. She’s reading, writing, generally excited and proud to be learning and making friends. I’m thrilled. 

However, I am more concerned as I look ahead to the Middle School and High Schools because of the ability grouping that starts to take place.  I understand that it’s fairly common practice to group all students by abilities, at the High School level we currently have four levels; Basic, College Prep, Honors and High Honors.  Prior to the PJ settlement we had a 5^th level, the self-contained classroom that was 100% students with disabilities.  Thankfully that’s been eliminated and these students are taken courses listed in the Course Catalog and taught by teachers certified in the content area but we still have most of the students with disabilities in the lowest level classrooms that are up to 50% students with disabilities.  My concern is that while this is an improvement of sorts we are still very clearly segregating students by ability so how different is this from the old self-contained classrooms?  When schools can segregate by ability which classroom is the regular classroom?  And lower level classes frequently have serious issues with unimaginative teaching, low expectations and limited curriculum opportunities.

I have been told by parents of older children that I can have my child placed in whatever ability track the PPT thinks is appropriate for my daughter and I know I would work hard to advocate for her to make that happen.  My concern is that this is a battle that will be won or lost one student at a time and most parents aren’t going to be able to fight that battle and most schools will be able to throw up to many roadblocks.

Unless changes come I would question if there is any real opportunity to have very many students with Intellectual Abilities included in a regular classroom at the High School level. I would recommend that the definition of a regular classroom should be updated to include a minimum percentage of non-disabled peers and that percentage should be reasonably close to the school’s general population.  I believe this would have a welcome effect on driving systemic change through every classroom in the school.

Thank you.

 ... another unpublished, knee jerk reaction on my part that I periodically send in to the local newspaper.  I tried to keep my response short so that I would have a better chance of getting published.  Didn't work.

Inclusion is coming, not because its going to save Hartford schools a few dollars as Ms Tubeck-Drozd asserts in her Feb 11 letter ‘Mainstreaming Unfair to Special Education Students’ or even because she may feel that some school official is still harboring ill feelings from her own personal conflicts with the school system. 

Inclusion is coming because it is been proven in study after study over the last 20 years to be the most effective way to teach all students whether they have a learning disability or not. 

Inclusion is coming because it is the law of the land for the past 30 years of IDEA; the regular classroom is the first education setting to be considered not the last.

Inclusion is coming because the CT SDE has agreed in the PJ settlement that it is a noble and proper goal to place students with disabilities in the regular classroom. We are now in our third year of that settlement and Hartford is finally taking meaningful steps to comply. 

I applaud Superintendent Henry’s efforts and persistence. We’ve lived with limited educational opportunity due to the segregated status quo for too many years.  Let us remember that whenever people segregate others for even the best of intentions the results are unfailingly wrong. 

Thank you, Superintendent Henry. Hartford schools truly are headed in the right direction.

Chris McAuliffe