Alright, You Listen Here, B!tc#!

This is a followup to my last blog, "Wanted?".  I linked it in case you're curious what went on before.  The summary is:  cryptic and foreboding email from the daycare that presaged the ouster of my little angel from their program.  When inquired about via email, I was deflected and told it was better if we just met. . . 

So between then and the meeting (which occurred this past Friday) I had scoured the internet for clues as to my rights, and as to the laws that govern daycares.  I felt I knew enough to be dangerous and stand my ground, to at least buy time, retreat to lick my wounds and call for help.  I was prepared to speak in polite tones through a cold, emotionless vacuum while pleading an emotional case and falling back to threat of legal action as my nuclear option.

Before I met my wife at home to drive to our meeting, I booked a reservation at a new favorite restaurant of ours, Cioppino, thinking a nice bottle of wine and some good food might do wonders to smooth over our soon-to-be ruffled feathers.  It would be a surprise for Leslie; maybe a little good news on top of bad would help even things out a bit.

My folks were watching the kids, so Leslie and I kissed them goodbye and I drove to the daycare.  It was almost six.  It was dark when we got there, just one more kid left to be picked up.  J--- was there with a worker, who, when the last kid was picked up a few minutes later, also left.

We sat at a large round table, our legs tucked uncomfortably under toddler-sized furniture.  J--- started the conversation by asking us something.  I don't even really remember what it was she asked, I think something to do with the visit to the daycare by our wrap BSC.  Apparently there was some misunderstanding between the daycare and our BSC.  She'd expected the director, J---, and she was nowhere to be found.  So Leslie took that one, essentially saying that the trip, while not a total waste, was to talk to the daycare about any behaviors they might be experiencing and to give them some strategies.  She told it politely, but made it plain that the daycare hosed itself out of an opportunity to pick the brain of someone who might have been able to educate them on how to properly treat Lily.

We discussed Lily's behavior for a bit.  Mostly we just tried to lay out why we feel Lily acts out:  over stimulation, escape, attention seeking, etc.  J--- was a polite audience.  She asked a few questions about the dropoff and I politely and diplomatically (and I'm not even being sarcastic here) sketched my opinion of how it was being handled currently (mass chaos unaddressed by staff) and she listened.  

This has got to be some sort of a trick.

We talked for a little longer about the kindergarten setting, how she doesn't need one-on-one there, just someone to interact with her and redirect as needed.  I made the point that data showed Lily was actually more attentive in the typically developing classroom when her aide was not right next to her, but "faded" and only addressed Lily as needed.  I felt this was a key to our defense against the possibility of "Lily needs one-on-one and we can't afford it" line of reasoning for booting her.  There was more nodding and listening.  And questions.

This was going well. . . too well.

J--- acknowledged how busy it is in the morning and discussed the multiple transitions Lily was experiencing.  First the main room, then upstairs to the little kids room (because of head count, staff takes some of the big kids out to their bus, leaving too many students behind with just one staff member), then back downstairs to the big kids room again when it's time for her bus to leave.  She admitted that staff hasn't been as attentive to the kids (not just Lily's) needs and that sometimes in order to break up the staff conversation, she'll go as far as to put masking tape x's on the floor and tell staff to "stand here" and watch the kids in the area.

And then she said it.

"What if you didn't drop Lily off in the downstairs room anymore before school?"

That was it.  My moment.  I have never been more ready for this shitfight.  It was going to be something like this, "Alright, now you listen to me, bitch. . . "

"What if instead you just brought her upstairs to the main room when you dropped off?  She's only downstairs a half hour before they bring her up anyway, and that would eliminate some of the transition issues."

"Wait. . . what now?" (I didn't actually say that, but I'm so glad I hesitated before jumping down her throat.  I mean, I was poised on the figurative balls of my livid parental feet ready to pounce on this woman.)

We sat in silence for a couple seconds.  My train of thought was completely derailed.  Not. . .stop dropping her off. . . stop dropping her off downstairs.  Um.  Huh!  I asked Leslie what she thought and she said something, I can't remember what, and then I jumped in and said it was fine by me.

We talked some more about strategies for changing Lily when she spits, for avoiding being bitten or hit, for when to engage her and how to redirect her.  We offered names and numbers of people who had already indicated a willingness to discuss how to handle these things with her staff free of charge.  And she wrote notes.  She took names.  She asked questions.

Then she offered to place two people as "lead" Lily staff members.  People who would work, if not one-on-one with Lily, at least make Lily a special focus and responsibility of theirs, one in the morning, and one in the afternoon.  And we jumped at that as well.

And then we packed everything up and she thanked us for meeting with her. . . and we thanked her for meeting with us, and she apologized and said she probably should have had that meeting a month earlier and that she bore some blame for how the staff had handle Lily and hoped this would improve things throughout. 

And Leslie and I got our coats on and walked to the car and got in.  J--- got in her car ahead of us and I saw the brake lights flare up, then dim, and then she drove away.  Leslie and I sat in the car in silence for a couple seconds before I raised an eyebrow and looked at her from the corner of my eye.

"Well, that went well."

And we laughed, both of us shaking our heads at the war we'd expected that had never come.  And we called my folks and she called hers (later) because everyone was worried.  And then we went to dinner and had, not a conciliatory bottle of wine, but a celebratory one.  

And it was good.

----------------

I like ending the blog there. . . you know cause o' the whole Genesis "and he saw that it was good" thing. . . but I wanted to add a footnote.  

These kids. . . people do screw them over sometimes.  Sometimes. . . maybe even MOST of the time they really really have to fight to get what they deserve, and we as parents really have to fight beside them or for them.  But it is nice to know sometimes, to remember, that not everyone is out to get them or us.  Some people just don't understand (and want to) and need to be pointed in the right direction.

Random shot of gratuitous cuteness (hers, not mine)

Wanted?

A couple of days ago I got an email from the daycare that said this:

"Leslie, Jim,

The mornings are becoming a very bad experience for the children in our care with Lily. She is hitting, spitting, and grabbing continually. I am not able to afford to have one staff member caring for her alone. My staff feels that Lily needs one on one care at this point. I know she is being observed this week, but I'm not certain of scenarios that could work. Please think about it, and would you like to meet with me soon to discuss possibilities?

Appreciated,
J---"

What went through my mind was, "they're going to try to kick her out of daycare." I was instantly on alert, instantly imagining my defense, instantly anticipating the ways in which the daycare was going to justify kicking my little girl out of their facility. I started searching through Department of Welfare (which governs daycares in PA) websites and Pennsylvania law sites, and ADA questions and answers. And then, assuming the worst, but hoping for the best, I responded:

"I'm not certain what you're talking about. This is the first I've heard of any problems. Has this been going on long? What are you suggesting? What steps have already been taken?

I don't agree that Lily requires one on one attention. She absolutely requires the attention of staff, and the understanding of her behaviors, but not one on one.

Can you explain a little about what your expectations are for staff at morning drop off (not just with regard to Lily, but with all the students)? I'd be curious to see if my observations of what goes on dovetails with your expectations for the kids' care.

Additionally, please let me know what your path forward is.

Thanks,

Jim"

The way I saw it, she was preparing to meet with us to explain why she didn't feel her daycare was the best fit for Lily, or the other kids, for that matter. What I had read suggested that she was required by law to make 'reasonable accommodations' for a special needs child. There had been no written documentation of any issues, though we were aware some of the staff had complained about the spitting. If there had been hitting, we'd received no accident or incident reports to sign (which is procedure).

The daycare staff can be. . . inattentive. I wanted her to lay it out there. I wanted to know what it was the staff was expected to do, because having dropped Lily off to the "before care" program for the past six months I was pretty sure I knew they weren't doing it.

That is my biggest problem. Lily can be a hand full, for sure. But she's a hand full that the daycare has been dealing with for the past two years. They know her. And while I don't agree that she requires one on one attention, I do know that the staff needs to. . . how shall I put this delicately. . . get off their dead asses and attend to her (and the other students') needs.

We exchanged a couple more emails. The response I got this time seemed even more ominous to me:

"Jim,

Let's just meet. Friday afternoon? Let me know if that works for you two.

~J---"

To me, that was the equivalent of saying. . . "I have bad news, and it's best that I deliver it in person." But that was me, planning for the worst and hoping for the best. I sent her an email arranging for a 6 o'clock meeting, and prompting her as to an agenda, whether she needed us to bring anything, and whether it would be just her.

She responded without the agenda, indicated it would just be her, and asked if there was anyone from staff we wanted to see.

This made me feel better. J--- is not the most sophisticated daycare director. I feel fairly confident that if she was approaching a family with a special needs child and informing them that they were booted, she'd bring someone with a little more gravitas. Maybe that's wishful thinking on my part, but if it's just her. . . I feel like "we got this".

My wife gets limited free legal consultation as a benefit at work. I had her contact an attorney to talk out our position prior to the meeting. The attorney seems to have been less than useless. She had a difficult time understanding our situation, and spent most of the time playing devil's advocate, explaining the daycare's position, rather than explaining our rights in this circumstance.

I feel like I'm as prepared as I need to be for this meeting. I've armed myself with enough information to feel like we can't be kicked out without at least the daycare making an attempt to solve the problem, and we have a couple potential options to explore.

As for our "rights", at first blush it appears that the daycare's ability to kick us out hinges primarily on two things: 1) whether Lily's attendance represents a threat to the safety of staff or the other children (if that's their case, they have not documented it to us, so I feel confident their. Even with documentation, Lily's biting, or pushing has historically been limited to cases where her hand is being grabbed and she's being compelled to go someplace with someone, or someone is getting too close to her face and she feels threatened. She has never gone out of her way to hurt someone.) or 2) whether Lily's attendance requires an unreasonable accomodation (hiring of dedicated staff, purchase of expensive equipment, etc). J--- might suggest that because she cannot hire an additional staff member to provide Lily with one on one, that means Lily has to go. My argument is that she does not need one on one, just less inattention on the part of staff.

The icky part of all this is that if in fact they want her out, and I fight the good fight, and lawyer up, and make things hard on them, and they take her back. . . what are the consequences for Lily? Nobody would ever do anything to get back at us through Lily, right? Right?? Is this the proverbial, sending food back to the kitchen and getting spit in your soup? If we have to fight to keep Lily in this daycare. . . do we ever want to keep Lily in this daycare?

Regardless I feel like there's some bargaining room here. I'm less stressed. I may leave this 6 o'clock meeting a total basket case, but I feel pretty good going in right now. We also talked to our wrap provider to see whether a TSS could be assigned to Lily for the brief time she's in the before school program, and for the brief time after kindergarten when she's in the after school program. If that's the case, J---- will get her one on one, and not even have to hire her. But we're still looking at that.

Regardless, we'll figure something out, and if it is the worst, well then we're prepared, and if it is the best. . . well that's just gravy.

Sisterly Love

Sometime over the course of the weekend, this happened:

"can't breathe", "shhhhh, it's okay", "mmmmph"

It really is odd that Lily is so accepting of closeness with her big sister and so . . . less than enthused about it with others.  I cropped the picture, saved it to my iPhone, set it as screen saver and vowed to share it via blog.  

This morning I was reminded of it.  I got to daycare early. . . too early.  The people that usually watch both kiddos before the bus arrives to take them to school hadn't arrived so I had to put them both in with the general populace until help arrived.  (Essentially the school age kids go downstairs and all the rest, babies, toddlers, and. . . well, babies and toddlers I guess are it, stay upstairs)  

Lily is no stranger to the upstairs area, having come from there just before the school year started, and there weren't really any transitional issues.  She walked over to where they keep the books and grabbed one.  I steered her over to a seat (because she's not allowed to stand or walk around looking at books) and kissed her goodbye.  

As I was leaving, she ripped the book and I sort of headed back to the room to tell her "no", rescue the book and talk to her sister.

"Em, please watch your sister until you guys go downstairs, okay?"

"Sure, Daddy."

I hugged her and kissed her and told her I loved her and to have a nice day and left the room.  Before I did though, I looked back.  Emma didn't see me, she was holding a new book for Lily to read.  Lily didn't want the book, and grabbed one of her own.  As I watched, Emma grabbed a chair for Lily and steered her into it, telling her, "You have to sit down if you want to read books," just as she's heard us tell Lily for almost two years now.  Lily sat down, and Emma put away the other books.

I left the daycare.  I was really proud of Emma.  I love seeing the way she interacts so naturally with her little sister, so protective and attentive; she really takes pride in being able to connect with Lily.  She's a great helper when babysitters come over and watch the kids.  Or, for that matter, when the daycare does.