Rollercoaster or Conveyor Belt?

Is peace a feeling or a “knowing?” I’ve been given an answer. I’ve prayed and I’ve listened and I’ve heard. And I know this path is right. But I don’t “feel” peace completely. Crisman isn’t working out for Javan. Not by any fault of theirs. They’ve gone above and beyond the expected measures and really tried to help him. They truly love their students with a passion and intensity that is so welcoming to see both as a mother and a teacher. But he’s not ready. Will he ever be? Maybe. Probably. I don’t know.

But for now, he’s not. Public school did him many great injustices to say the least. We cannot have peace about taking that path with him again. And this is the only private school in our area that serves special needs kids. But he’s just too special. In good ways and bad. I am currently preparing my mind, spirit, and home for our last valid option…homeschooling.

It isn’t what I wanted, and truth be told, it’s not what Javan wants either. He doesn’t care a lick about the other kids, but he will truly miss the teachers that he’s come to know and love. For now, our world will shrink. It will be about learning the basics. Again. How to obey, how to be polite, what “scripts” to say in every possible situation, how not to poop your pants and what to do if you do, how to love God, how to, how to, how to. And there will be academic learning too, of course, but that part comes naturally to me. It’s the getting him to do the work that’s my problem. He never wanted me to be his teacher. He wants me to be his mom. But then again, he didn’t do his work for the teacher either.

Sigh. I have a peace that God has chosen this path for us. For how long, I don’t know. I prayed and asked God to speak and then I listened. He showed me Javan on the peak of a roller coaster, eyes terrified beyond a mother’s bearing. On the roller coaster there were many loud and obnoxious, excited little children and the sun was insanely bright. And the person in the seat next to him alternated between me trying to teach him not to hit and how to relate to other children and his teachers trying to get him to write his name or learn his letters. Ridiculous picture, with lots and lots of truth in it. If I were literally trying to teach him that way, it would be stupid at the least, child abuse at the most. But that’s what I’m doing, what we’re all doing, because that’s what his world is like. It’s terrifying, dizzying, confusing, noisy, bright, and segmented. I have to take him off the roller coaster, out of the park even, and bring him home.

Maybe after we learn more about the world from inside our safe little glass bubble, I can show him that the world is more like a conveyor belt instead of a roller coaster. He will probably never feel like his feet are on solid ground, but I can maybe teach him how to deal with conveyor belt speed. And then, when he’s ready, one day we can step out of the bubble and onto the conveyor belt and he will succeed because he understands.

My biggest fear is frustration. I’ve tried this before. Not to this extent exactly, but I’ve been with him 24/7 and tried to do some learning activities and I always end up yelling at him all the time, throwing my hands up on the learning activities, and popping in movies hoping that sunset will come soon. That’s the ugly truth. And I’m purposely facing it because I want to avoid it. I will pray for patience and understanding and patience that passes all understanding day and night. I want to love him the way he deserves to be loved and teach him the way he deserves to be taught. So, heeeere we go. I can do this!


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