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May 4, 2011

Do You Trust Your Mechanic? Are Your REALLY Sure?

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(I don’t like to do this, but I’m totally calling out a company for bad service. Actually, make that dangerous service.)

We are a family of two cars – one small sedan and one SUV. The rule is that we run them until they die, and then we replace the dead one with another similar in style. That means we usually only have one car payment to worry about, although we are often playing the game of “When will this car decide it’s done?” as we squeeze the last drops of life from it.

Our current sedan is the very first new car I ever purchased on my own. It’s a 2000 model and currently has 189,000 miles on it. Yes, I’ve tried to take good care of it to get it to this point. The dealer is fairly far from our house, so for the last year or two we’ve been taking both cars to NTB (National Tire & Battery, a division of Tire Kingdom) for minor services because it’s just down the road.

A few months ago, I had taken the sedan to NTB for service, and while there they told me the brakes would need to be replaced soon. I asked if it needed to be done that day, and they told me it could wait a little longer. Having no money to get it done at that time, I was glad to hear we could wait a little longer.

Fast forward to mid-week last week. The sedan had started making a grinding sound when braking (aka: we may have waited a little too long), so we took it back to NTB and asked them to replace the brakes and rotors. They took the keys and told us it would be done by the end of the day.

When Aaron came back to get the car, they told him that they didn’t change the brakes because the brakes were fine. We were completely puzzled by this – didn’t they tell us last time they needed replaced? And if they were fine, what was that grinding sound? The mechanic told Aaron that the pads were fine and the brakes just had a rust ring on them that was causing the grinding noise. He advised us to “ride the brakes hard” to help clear off the rust and said nothing more needed done at this time. We trusted this assessment and left, happy to save some money.

But the story doesn’t end there. That grinding sound? It only got worse. In fact, braking seemed to get harder – I felt like I had to shove my foot through the floor to brake. I couldn’t be reassured by the diagnosis that our brakes were fine. I’ve been with this car for most of its 189,000 miles – I know when something feels wrong.

Being the constant worrier, I asked Aaron to take it to a different mechanic for a second opinion. On Sunday he took it to a different local shop, asking them to check our brakes. At that point an entirely different story about our brakes was relayed to us. The brake pads still had thickness on the outside, but the inside of each pad was shot. We could see the rotors were damaged, and the calipers needed replaced as well. We were lucky that we hadn’t suffered a complete brake failure before bringing it to them.

So one day and $640 later, my little sedan was fitted with a new brake system that doesn’t make a peep (or grind) and kicks in with the smallest amount of pressure on the pedal. And at 189,000 miles, it runs like it’s barely at 100,00 miles. I didn’t like spending all the money on it, but I’m so thankful to the second mechanic (Firestone, if you’d like to know) for taking the time to properly inspect the brakes and show us exactly what the problem was.

I can’t say for certain if NTB carelessly neglected to do a full inspection of the brakes and instead only took a quick glance at the outside of them, or if they lied to us because they were busy that day. Either way, I’m horrified that such neglect for safety was displayed by NTB. We trusted them to keep our car maintained so that it was safe to drive, and they let us down in a dangerous way.

What would have happened had we continued to listen to their advice? Would we have continued being hard on the brakes, trying to wear off that rust, until one day we press the pedal and get no response as we slam into whatever is in front of us due to brake failure? What if our daughters had been in the car with us? We could have been hurt, could have hurt others, could have been killed…

There are certain occupations that we must place our trust in for our safety. We trust our police to keep our neighborhoods safe. We trust our doctors to make the right diagnosis to keep us healthy. We trust cooks to prepare and handle food safely to keep us from getting sick. We trust engineers and architects to design safe structures for us to dwell in and travel on.

As a nurse, were I to give the wrong medication to a patient that risked a life-threatening reaction, you can bet I’d have to deal with some serious consequences. I could lose my job or even my license. I could also be sued if I caused harm to that patient. But I know how important my job is, and in that case I’d check and double check to make sure I had the correct medication for the correct patient, because that person’s safety is in my hands.

Mechanics are part of that trusted group as well. If our vehicles aren’t given proper safety inspections, our lives are at risk. We trust those mechanics to properly service our cars and tell us when something is a safety risk.

NTB destroyed our trust last week and I’m still very upset at the risk they exposed my family to through their neglect. Small mistakes are forgiveable, but life-threatening mistakes cannot be brushed aside.

I’ll be blunt: we will never use them again, and I caution others to think twice before you put your car and your safety into their hands. Just because it’s close by and convenient doesn’t mean it’s safe.

Filed Under: big issues, daily life, rant, reviews · Tagged:


Mar 31, 2011

Poisoning Kids With Bright & Colorful Foods

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When Cordy was first diagnosed with autism, we looked into everything we could to help her. Therapy was expensive and involved long waiting lists, but in the meantime there were several doctors promoting supplements, medications, and diets that promised anything from a little help to a complete miracle.
I tried to be skeptical, or as skeptical as one can be when first finding out your child has a lifelong neurological condition that you would pay nearly anything to see disappear. I dismissed the big promises as junk science, but one topic kept coming up over and over: food additives.
Eliminating artificial food additives from my daughter’s diet was a simple enough solution to try, I thought. After all, it required buying no supplements or paying for some guide to the secret foods she must eat to behave properly. I just needed to read labels a little more closely, right?

Ha.

I don’t know if you’ve been reading labels lately, but just about EVERYTHING has artificial food dyes in it. Candy, mac and cheese, juices, fruit snacks, crackers, grape jam, cereal, baked goods, applesauce, chips – the list goes on and on. If it’s designed for kids, it’s even more likely to have artificial dyes in it. When I first tried to swap out her regular favorite foods for dye-free foods, it was nearly impossible. Everything had dye in it, even when it didn’t need to. (Why would something WHITE like white cheddar mac and cheese need dye in it?)

Now the FDA is turning its attention to food additives this week – specifically food dyes – and I’m carefully following the news to see what conclusions they draw. Since Cordy’s diagnosis, I am now convinced that food dyes play a role in her behavior, and when she avoids them her behavior is much better. She’s like a Jekyll & Hyde depending on if she’s ingested artificial food dyes or not.
Research shows that many children exhibit signs of hyperactivity when they consume artificial food dyes, and limiting the diet to remove these dyes often results in a dramatic improvement in behavior. The proof is enough for the European Union to require warning labels on foods containing artificial food dyes, resulting in fewer foods containing the dyes in European countries.
I’ve done my own experiment. It went something like this: Detox Cordy from all dyes for 5 days. Then give her a candy that has nothing artificial in it. (Plain rock candy sticks are great for this test.) Wait for any behavior change. In this case, no behavior change.
Then the next day, give her candy with food dye in it. (Blue lollipops are her favorite, and also her downfall.) Wait for any behavior change. After eating it, 30-45 minutes later she was a monster: unfocused, quick to tantrum, hyperactive, irritable, unsettled and sometimes feeling tired and ill. These changes can sometimes last 3-5 days from one exposure.
Suddenly it all made sense. I now know why holidays and birthdays were so traumatic in the past (colored icing on cakes and cookies!), why she always acted up more after a lollipop, and why cupcakes made her sick to her stomach.
Artificial colors are poison to my daughter. They alter her behavior, cloud her mind, and leave her unable to cope.
The worst part? They’re in most kid foods, and there’s no need for these dyes. Their only purpose is to make junk food look pretty and colorful so you’ll want to eat more of it. And there are plenty of perfectly good natural dyes that can be used in their place. Just look at the Annie’s brand of fruit snacks – all natural colors, but still bright, and my kids still beg for them.
It is maddening to find dye-free foods for my family. We often have to shop in the organic section of the grocery store to find safe foods, and because they’re in the organic section they cost more.
Teaching Cordy about what she can and can’t eat has been difficult, too. She is old enough now to understand that dyes make her sick. She’s even admitted to us that she feels “bad” (as in sick or unwell) when she eats something full of dyes. She can’t read labels yet, however, so she has to rely on adults to tell her what’s safe and what’s not. (Although she’s getting good at seeing most brightly colored candy and saying, “That will make me sick.”)
But we still have to take away 80% of her Halloween candy and trade it for safe snacks. And it’s hard when even the schools encourage her to eat Skittles as rewards in the classroom, or popsicles on the playground because all of the kids are getting them. They think they’re being fair to her, but they’re only hurting her. Fair is actually NOT giving her the popsicles the other kids are eating, so that she’ll be able to function in the classroom after recess.
I’m tired of food manufacturers saying that artificial food dyes are safe. They’re not. Most are made from coal tar or petroleum. Some have been labeled carcinogens. I don’t need Red #40 in my ice cream to know it’s strawberry – that’s why I have taste buds.
I e-mailed Kraft Foods over a year ago and asked why they needed to add yellow food dye to their famous blue box of mac and cheese when there are safer natural yellow dyes that could be used instead. The response was that the FDA had declared it safe to use, and they have no plans to change their ingredients. It was a beautifully written pat on the head with an underlying tone of, “Well, bless your heart, you poor crunchy nut. We don’t care what you think because kids like neon glow in the dark mac and cheese.”
I hope the FDA won’t bow to the lobbying from the food industry this time and will, at the minimum, require warning labels on any foods containing artificial food dyes. And then maybe Cordy’s favorite mac and cheese will decide it’s time to change their ingredients so she can eat it safely.
Filed Under: Autism, big issues, Cordy, daily life, healthy living ·


Feb 23, 2011

Fitness and Nutrition Are Not Partisan Issues

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This is my 1,000th post on this blog. Wow.

I don’t generally like talking about politics on my blog. I’m pretty well-rooted in my beliefs and I usually don’t have the time or energy to debate someone else’s beliefs.

But lately I’ve been disgusted with some of the rhetoric being thrown around about the First Lady, Michelle Obama, and her Let’s Move initiative. Some conservatives are calling it “nanny state” politics, with the government trying to dictate what we eat and how much exercise we get. Sarah Palin accused her of trying to take away all of our desserts. And just recently Rush Limbaugh (who is in no position to criticize on this issue) made cracks about Mrs. Obama eating ribs and not being slim enough to advocate for an anti-obesity campaign.

Are you kidding me? Anyone who thinks Michelle Obama is fat seriously needs new glasses.

The problem is that this is one big smoke screen – a chance to throw around hate speech and turn minds against the current administration over a topic that is 100% not partisan.

The Let’s Move initiative was designed to encourage healthier habits in our families and children to fight childhood obesity and give our kids a shot at living longer than we do. These initiatives focus on both nutrition and fitness, with goals of making healthier food available for school lunches and encouraging more physical activity for kids. And it’s all about information sharing and greater food variety, not mandatory diets and exercise. No one is outlawing cheesecake or chaining you to a treadmill.

How is this political? Does someone out there truly believe that kids today are perfectly fit and we need less healthy food and less physical activity in our schools?

There are 9 year old kids developing Type 2 diabetes now, which used to be called “adult-onset” diabetes. Kids who are morbidly obese and need cholesterol drugs to prevent a heart attack. Kids who have no idea how to ride a bike, but can master Grand Turismo on their XBox. It’s sad.

Some may argue that the problem stems from poor parenting and poor choices. You don’t have to buy the chips and soda – you can choose to cook more instead. But healthier foods can cost more, especially in inner city areas that may not have access to fresh fruits and veggies. And cooking takes time – families where parents work 2 or 3 jobs don’t always have time to cook a healthy meal from scratch.

OK, fine, let’s assume lazy parenting is a valid excuse. I’d then argue that the excuses of poor parenting and poor choices are exactly why programs like Let’s Move are needed. Without the proper education and training, parents can’t be expected to make the best choices for their families. A mom who grew up never learning how to cook will have a hard time trying to cook for her kids. (Ahem…me.) Kids who aren’t introduced to healthy foods early on will likely be unwilling to try them when they’re older. (Not quite me…I grew out of my Doritos and Fla-vor-ice phase, thankfully.) Physics also reminds us that an object at rest tends to stay at rest, and the body is no exception.

You can throw around terms like “personal responsibility” all you want, but if those individuals are never given the tools and training they need, they’ll never succeed.

It would be like asking me to change the oil on my car: I drive the car, so you could argue that it’s my responsibility to keep it maintained. But I’ve never been taught how to do it – oh sure, I’ve seen it done a few times – if I tried I’d likely make a big mess of it. Now if someone taught me how to do it, I could do it every 5,000 miles like recommended.

Encouraging healthier school lunches, teaching families about nutrition, incorporating fitness into every school day – these are not partisan issues. These are common sense solutions to a national health epidemic. You want to save money on health care? Start by encouraging those around you to be healthier. Get our kids healthy, and those habits will be passed on to their kids and hopefully future generations.

And finally, for those who still feel that this is a liberal intrusion into your personal lives, I’d like to remind you of President Ronald Reagan, thought by many to be the saint of the conservatives, and his executive order on December 31, 1982. You see, Reagan was totally into initiatives like this. When he became president, there was already a President’s Council on Physical Fitness and Sports. But he wasn’t content to simply let it remain as it was.

On the last day of the year in 1982, Reagan signed an executive order broadening the reach of the council and initiating “programs to inform the general public of the importance of exercise and the link between regular physical activity, good health, and effective performance.” Sound familiar?

This included developing more fitness programs in schools and community centers, coordinating federal programs to encourage fitness, coordinating with health organizations to develop fitness guidelines and encourage further research into sports medicine, and even working with private businesses and labor organizations to encourage fitness initiatives in the workplace. The First Lady, Nancy Reagan, chaired the first National Women’s Leadership Conference on Fitness. (Hey, look, it’s a First Lady championing a health and fitness initiative!)

(There’s a lot more on the history of this council – it’s good reading.)

In other words – there’s a precedent for ALL of this. It’s been done, by both political parties, and therefore Michelle Obama’s Let’s Move campaign is nothing more than a fresh slogan and a few new ideas to tackle a subject the government has cared about since Eisenhower. It’s not a liberal or conservative battle, but something we should all be invested in.

Even if you exercise and cook nutritious meals from scratch each day, you need to be invested in this issue, because the health of those around you will have an impact on you, whether it be through increased health care costs or a lack of workers due to high disability rates.

Don’t listen to the hype and the hate spewed out by some about Let’s Move. No one is taking away your dessert, I promise. The point of it is to make better choices – as someone who’s lost weight, I can vouch that it’s really about making better choices 90% of the time, and enjoying the splurge 10% of the time. Again, none of this is mandatory – placing a salad bar in your child’s school is not forcing your child to eat vegetables, it’s about providing choice and education.

And if it is somehow forcing your child to eat vegetables, I’d like to apply for a grant to get one in my kitchen.

And one final note for all my 30-something friends: remember those damn President’s Physical Fitness Challenges in school? (They were required for us.) Yeah, I was always a failure at those. I was clearly the target audience for these programs.

Filed Under: big issues, healthy living, politics, rant ·


Sep 13, 2010

Sickness, Dollars and Sense

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Saturday night was a long night. I trudged up to bed around midnight, my body and brain fighting to figure out if it was really nearly lunchtime or bedtime. (Third shift work schedules really screw with your biorhythms.) No sooner had my eyes closed and I was on the verge of sleep, I heard crying coming from Mira’s room. I went in and she was clutching her belly, crying “My bewwy huwts!!!”

Figuring it was probably just gas, I rubbed her belly and back, but she then asked if she could come into my room. Aaron had fallen asleep on the couch, so I agreed and brought her in. She lay in bed with me for about ten minutes before deciding she felt better and went back to her room. I again tried to focus on the inside of my eyelids and aimed for sleep.

An hour later, a repeat performance. This time I got her up and had her try using the potty. (Did I mention we’re potty training? No? Well, we’re POTTY TRAINING! A whole year and a half earlier than Cordy, thank goodness!) Again it didn’t seem to help much, and she eventually went back to bed.

Two hours later, the crying startled me awake. This time it sounded more urgent. I went into her room to see her sitting in a corner of her bed, pointing to the center and saying, “I made a mess! I sowwy! I soooo sowwy!” As my eyes adjusted to the light, and my nose adjusted to the assault on it, I realized she had vomited and was covered in it herself. Poor kid – she’s sick and all she can do is think I’m mad at her for making a mess. You’d think I was a clean freak.

I carefully lifted her out of bed, making sure to avoid her stuffed pink polar bear (which she made sure to tell me that she was careful to NOT get vomit on her prized stuffed animal!), stripped her down and put her in the bath. While she soaked, I cleaned up the mess, remade her bed, and got the washer started. Then I cleaned her up, got her dressed and put her to bed. Mira seemed to feel better after that, and I hoped it was over.

Sunday was a typical day for her. She ate just fine, even though we were cautious at first, she played, and she continued to say, “My bewwy doesn’t huwt now!” Sure, I was exhausted from barely sleeping all night, but she seemed better, so I couldn’t complain too much. It was probably just a virus passing through quickly.

Then Sunday night, right at bedtime, it started again: “My bewwy reawwy hurwts!” At this point, I thought Mira was faking it, having figured out yet another way to stall at bedtime and get some extra attention. Aaron – being better slept than me and therefore in a more generous mood – let her rest on the couch and she promptly fell asleep. Faker, I decided.

Aaron carried her back to bed, and I relaxed in my chair to enjoy a little guilty pleasure I call the MTV VMA’s before I had to go to work. But no sooner than Justin Bieber jumped up on stage, the wailing voice of a little girl could be heard from upstairs. (Yeah, Mira, I’m more of a Lady Gaga fan, too.) Aaron went to check on her and soon came downstairs with a pathetic little barnacle clinging to him. She was again crying that her belly hurt.

Aaron tried to put her on the couch again, but this time she didn’t fall asleep. She tossed and turned and wiggled, occasionally wailing in pain. At this point, I was starting to think it wasn’t an act. But it made no sense – how could she be so sick the night before, then perfect all day long, and now very sick again? That little voice of motherly worry started to build in my mind.

I barely saw Taylor Swift’s performance, because by that point the wailing had reached a fever pitch. Aaron tried to pull Mira into his lap on the floor, but she pushed him away and stumbled over to where I was sitting in the recliner. No longer the stoic doubter, I accepted her into my lap and let her curl herself into me, even knowing I only had five minutes or so until I had to leave for work. She continued to cry, and I asked her to show me where her belly hurt. She placed a chubby hand over her entire belly-button area.

I gently pushed on her belly, trying to remember what to feel for in a three year old, but my nursing skills were falling short. She wailed as I touched her abdomen, constantly shifting around in an attempt to find some relief from whatever was hurting her.

In those moments, as I tried to distract her by pointing out Lady Gaga was on stage accepting an award, real worry invaded my mind. What if this wasn’t just a bug? What if she was really sick?

We don’t have health insurance at the moment. My job is a contractor position and Aaron was laid off in May. My agency’s health plan was nearly half of my salary for a $4000 deductible, and COBRA cost even more. I make too much to be covered on any state insurance plan for children, and the private market? Yeah, well, let’s just say they don’t want to cover our family. I don’t even have paid sick time. If I need to miss a day, I don’t get paid for it. We are the ones “stuck in the middle” making too much to qualify for any help and too little to not worry about the costs.

So in that moment, as I became my own personal WebMD and pondered if Mira had a blockage or if her appendix might burst at any moment, I was also forced to calculate in my head if it was worth taking her to the hospital if she didn’t get better. At what point would the risks outweigh the hefty financial hit we’d face? Just the ER charge alone would be crippling, without even considering costs of any tests or x-rays.

At that point, Mira’s wails took on a new pitch, drowning out the TV entirely, and as I clutched her tight, with Aaron kneeling next to the chair and rubbing her back, I felt the tears in my eyes. Her health was coming down to money. I felt like I was being forced to decide how sick she had to be before we could risk going broke. And I wanted to scream right along with her, wail at how idiotic and unfair our health insurance system is, and sob that any parent should be forced to think like this, to feel this helpless in the shadow of illness and dollar bills balancing on an enormous scale.

And right then Mira vomited all over me. Twice. The silence was shocking to us all.

That sweet little girl then took one look at me, completely covered in more vomit than I thought possible to come out of such a small person, and said, “Mommy, I so sowwy I got you messy. You still wuv me?”

For the moment all of my fears and worries were gone as I stroked her hair and assured her that of course I still loved her and everything was OK. She still didn’t feel well, but the crying had stopped as she was suddenly more concerned about me. (And seriously, I’m really not obsessed with being neat. Sure, I don’t like being covered in vomit, but I doubt anyone does.)

Mira still isn’t well, but I’m less worried about appendicitis now and back to my original theory that it’s a virus. And so we continue to wait it out, hoping she gets better soon and we can avoid a costly trip to the doctor or the ER. I’m still mad at the system, though. Angry that we can’t have affordable health insurance because I chose to take a job I love over something I wouldn’t enjoy as much, because Aaron is unemployed, because we have a host of pre-existing conditions that would deny us private insurance.

We’re average Americans. We have a house, we make a middle-class income, we pay our taxes, and we’re trying to get ahead to provide for our daughters. But we’re also forced to worry that the next stomachache that comes along might be more serious. That stomachache could bankrupt us, could take away that house we call home, and that chance at getting ahead we so desperately want and work hard towards. I know we’re not the only ones in this situation, either.

I’m not an economist (nor do I play one on TV), and I didn’t start this post with the intention of going all ranty, but as a mother I can’t understand why anyone would think that basic universal health care is wrong. At this point I’d even be willing to settle for universal children’s health care. No mother wants a price to be placed on her child’s health – so why would you then choose to put a price on the health of someone else’s child?

Maybe the world would be a better place if mothers were running it.

Filed Under: being a mom, big issues, Mira, money · Tagged:


Jul 29, 2010

Disturbing School District Priorities

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There are times when I will defend our local school district. Aaron is a product of that district, and had a (mostly) positive experience with it, and so I often make an effort to remember that when others bad mouth our district as being poor and not living up to the standards of surrounding districts.

After all, this was the district that helped us diagnose why Cordy wasn’t like other kids her age. The special education office worked so quickly to get her enrolled in preschool and provided services to help her adjust to the world she was so apart from. Her first preschool teacher is a woman I will forever speak fondly of, a woman I’d gladly consider to be a part of our family, and when Mira qualified for special needs preschool, I immediately asked for her to be placed with this teacher for the upcoming school year.

The principal at Cordy’s current school also worked with us to make sure that Cordy wouldn’t have to go to her “home” school for kindergarten – a school we know nothing about – when she wasn’t selected for any school in the lottery, including her current school. A quick e-mail to the principal pleading our case, and a seat opened up for her. After all, the principal has been just as charmed by Cordy as everyone else who spends time with her.

But the district isn’t perfect. I truly wanted Cordy to be mainstreamed this year – placed in a classroom of her “typical” peers where she would inevitably struggle with social rules and routines, but would hopefully be surrounded by a supportive team who would help her learn and grow and rise to the challenge like she always does. However, it wasn’t the recommended choice and Cordy will instead spend kindergarten in a special needs classroom with some “inclusion” time allowed in the mainstream kindergarten class each week.

I struggled to be convinced of why this was the best option for her. Her team gave us such glowing reports at the end of this school year: she no longer qualifies for speech therapy. She’s academically at a kindergarten level already and they recommend testing her for the gifted program next year. She’s still uncoordinated and does need assistance with some fine motor tasks, but she’s improving. Why should this child be in special needs?

She has trouble adjusting to a change in routine, they explain. The normal pace in a kindergarten class may be too fast for her. (A kindergarten class has a fast pace? Remember when we spent kindergarten learning to cut with scissors and had nap time?) She’s sensitive to some sensory stimuli. She would require too much attention from the teacher, and there are too many kids in the class for the teacher to spend a lot of time with her. Yes, if she had an aide she would probably do well, but that just isn’t possible.

It doesn’t make sense to me. What I hear is: our schools are overcrowded and our teachers are spread too thin already. And I also hear, loud and clear: your daughter would do well in a mainstream classroom, but we won’t pay for an aide for her to make this possible.

I’ve tried so hard to rationalize this information. I know Columbus City Schools is cutting corners just like every district to save money. They closed several schools this year, shifting the students to other schools to save money. And at the end of the school year, 133 teachers in the district were laid off. With this poor economy, other staff received no raises, but at least they were able to keep their jobs. A levy was passed in recent years, but apparently it’s not enough to help the school district.

I try to remember that Cordy isn’t the only child in the district, and that the cost of an aide for a child like her might be too much for the district to handle.

And then.

Then I read the news about the school board voting last week to give the superintendent of our school district a raise – a raise far larger than any teacher or staff member in the district is receiving. For the next four years, she’ll receive annual 3% raises along with a retroactive 4% raise that she deferred last year. Her total salary at the end of the four years will be $217,000, making her the third highest paid superintendent in Ohio.

This is not a reward for a stellar performance. The test scores for our district are abominable. (And the average high school student in our district probably couldn’t tell you what abominable means, other than something to do with a snowman, or spell it.) The superintendent is getting a raise for a graduation rate that has made an “improvement” to 73.9%.

I don’t see the reason in it. Schools are closed, teachers are laid off, they threaten to scrap bus transportation for some students, and yet the person who has the least to do with educating children gets the largest pay increase?

On a more personal note, the district can’t provide my daughter an aide in the classroom to give her the legal right to a “least restrictive environment”, but they can make sure their superintendent is the third highest paid school administrator in the state?

I really feel the district has a screwed up sense of priorities. I have no doubt in my mind that the teachers are doing the best they can with the resources given to them, but the school board and administrators aren’t properly appropriating those resources. The teachers need more help. They need fewer students in a class, and aides to help out students who are academically ready for their grade, but might need some assistance with adaptive skills and transitions.

If Aaron wasn’t laid off in May, we probably would have enrolled Cordy in a private Montessori school. After all, she’s doing extremely

But, like the teachers in the school district, we also can’t provide the best for Cordy because of money. It sucks.

The plan at this point is to be the best advocates we can for Cordy this year, watching her progress at school closely and pushing for more integration and moving away from the special needs classroom if possible. Assuming we’re both employed next year, Cordy will then go to the Montessori school for first grade. Seeing the superintendent get a large raise when teachers are laid off, classrooms are stuffed full of more students, and when my daughter can’t get the most appropriate education because it’s not in the budget has completely turned me off from this school district.

I want to support public schools. But I can’t support a school district that I feel doesn’t use its money properly. I will vote against the school board members who voted for the superintendent’s raise, I will not support this superintendent, and should the district cry “poor!” and put another levy on the ballot in the next few years, I will not forget the actions of the district this year when I cast my vote. And I will find another district, or save all we can for a private school, for my children where I feel they will get the best education possible.

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Filed Under: Autism, big issues, Cordy, rant, school ·