Tonight we have "meet-the-teacher night" at Henry's new school. Now, before you get all excited and think that I kicked some school district butt to get him in, let me explain.

It turns out that, if you can't get your school district to agree to send your child to the private school, (I couldn't, not without calling an IEP meeting which couldn't be done until after school had already started) you can send him to the "community school" (called charter schools in most other states) arm of the same school. (If there is a community school slot available, and if the spot is offered to you.) You withdraw your child from the district of residence and enroll him in the community school.

Holy shit, this stuff is unclear. One person tells you one thing and the next person doesn't know anything about that, and you send an e-mail and leave 15 messages and wait a week to figure out what to do next. I feel like I've been through the wringer.

It doesn't help that my husband is still not drinking that kool-aid, while I'm guzzling it by the gallon. At least he's willing to give it a shot, seeing as I'm so flipping sure about this.

I'll agree with him that the place has a bit of a cult-like feel to it. Everyone is so friendly and smiling and talks in such soothing tones. But I like to think that that's because they work with autistic kids all day, and friendly, smiling and soothing are good ways to be in that environment--not because they're trying to brainwash us.

Our school district's refusal to agree to place Henry here just reinforces my feeling that they don't really care about my child. And their argument that mainstreaming in the public school prepares my child for the "real world" he will someday work and live in holds no merit with me. You know what will prepare my child for the future? Being in a safe, nurturing, understanding, respectful environment that works on his weaknesses and works with his strengths to give him an excellent education.

The "real world" can be a pretty shitty place, and I don't see any other parents going out of their way to prepare their kids for that. Why should I be expected to?

I think Bill summed it up pretty well with this analogy: a couple summers ago Henry played t-ball through our city's parks & rec dept. We told them up front that he had autism, and they were quite willing to work with him and include him. And it was fine- it was a decent experience. But then this summer we found the Miracle League. They did more than just let my kid play. The team was made for kids like him, and parents like us, and it was more than we could have hoped for. This is my hope for our new school.

I've realized that part of this is selfish. I went to a parent orientation meeting the other night, and had the most unusual feeling as I pulled into the parking lot full of cars with autism ribbons on their bumpers. The feeling grew as I looked around the room and saw parents nodding and smiling at the school founders who were speaking. I think this feeling that I'm not so used to is belonging. As Drama Mama would say, these are our people.

Just as my son will no longer be relegated to a room at the end of the hall, I will no longer be relegated to the edges of the parental realm. I would not have participated in the PTO at his old school, because he didn't really participate in the school's activities. This new school requires a lot more parental involvement, and I think that will be good for me- for all of us.

I was telling a friend about the baseball analogy- a friend who's son is 10 and plays select-league baseball. I said "yeah, maybe Miracle League isn't 'real world' baseball, but I don't care." She interrupted me and said "Or maybe Miracle League baseball is 'real world' baseball. Just as much as our league is. It's about giving everyone a chance to play."