Let me tell you about my daughter Rory.
Rory is 18. She has almost finished her senior year of high school. Her IEP team has said that she has all of the credits needed to graduate, and that she’s ready for “extended transition.” In Florida - where we moved a year ago - extended transition is basically on-site job training, but under the school system’s umbrella. At least I think that’s what it is. I’m asking questions, but not getting a lot of answers, which is typical of this educational experience.
What I do know for certain is that Rory is not ready for this next step as it is defined by school administrators. None of the six or seven placements we were given to choose from fit Rory at all. Not even close One required students to work outside “in all varieties of vegetation” and be able to lift 25 pounds. I almost giggle thinking about Rory in that environment. I picture Scarlett O’Hara fanning herself at the Twelve Oaks barbeque and giving everyone nearby her wicked side eye.
Other placements require the student to work independently, and still other placements are for people who can work with the public. All of them seem to require workers to be able to lift anywhere between 20-40 pounds. My ballerina will have you know she is not prepared for that eventuality. These are the only options provided to Rory.
Rory is very smart, but minimally verbal. She isn’t enrolled in general education classes, but has significant academic strengths. She is a planner and loves having a schedule. She has behavioral issues, which are mostly controlled these days through medication but are not completely eradicated. The uncertainty of what is coming next for her is causing significant anxiety resulting in self-injurious behaviors and incidents of her lashing out in frustration.
This is not something that employers are looking for.
Getting information and guidance from school administrators has been next to impossible. I suspect they are attempting to run out the clock and get Rory out the door. They are at the top of the key, dribbling slowly and surveying the court, while we are running around with our hands in the air trying to guess where the ball will be passed and then figure out what we will do with it - if we’re lucky to intercept it.
We find ourselves in an autism purgatory. She’s not “high functioning” enough for most of the job training opportunities but loves learning and the social aspects of school. We have been presented with choices geared toward male students who can communicate with no opportunities for a girly-girl like Rory. Ready to move on yet not ready to move on.
We have been in Florida for just over a year. That’s not very long, especially considering Rory spent the first 17.5 years of her life in the same place. She’s adapted better than we ever could have imagined, but the thought of her finishing her classroom education and leaving school makes me feel sick. What is the rush? She has all the credits, they say. But what Rory needs right now - at this point in her life - is a much broader and bigger question for which the school system doesn’t seem to want to bother finding answers, even though we know what can help facilitate better success and a path forward. She needs consistency and predictability. She needs time to be part of the school community that she loves. She needs to be part of the transition process and time to absorb the fact that changes are coming instead of being left with so much uncertainty. We need time to figure out what’s best for someone who doesn’t fit neatly into any category, other than being unabashedly the best Rory ever. (Gilmore included.)
What’s next for Rory? We’re not sure what is the right step, but we can definitely tell what is the wrong step. Determining what’s next for Rory should not feel like a scavenger hunt. It should not be contentious. Kids with autism should be able to get the same informed guidance and support as any 18 year old, and not be chased out of the school system without a plan.
Rory deserves to be properly set up for success in a post-school life. So, WHY does it feel like no one is willing to really try and help make this happen?
-Nora S., Rory's mom