Having kids with special needs means our lives don't follow anything that vaguely resembles a normal schedule. There is no typical path for us to follow--you know, high school, then college or a gap year then college, then jobs, marriage, family. . .
We have to keep our kids in school somehow until they turn 22, because they won't be covered under DH's health insurance. Yes, they are both eligible for Medicaid, and we do use some of the services available to us from Medicaid, but we still prefer they be on our insurance. (For example, their psychiatrist isn't a Medicaid provider so who knows who we'd end up with--and our guy has been with us for over 10 years.) Neither of the boys will have a great deal of success in a college setting. Despite advances in support for kids with disabilities in colleges, I don't see it happening for our kids. They will forever be in minimum wage jobs, doing something they really don't like. I've mentioned before that being a parent of special needs kids means being in a constant state of grieving and here it is again.
FTD has now been accepted into the Job Skills program at the area 5 county vocational high school. Next summer, and yes I do mean next summer--August 18, which is utterly stupid, he'll start there. He honestly believes he'll be taking at least one or two drafting classes, which he loved at his current HS, but what he'll really be doing is cleaning and sorting and stuff like that in various businesses around town. I truly am thankful that there are programs like this for kids. But it utterly and completely breaks my heart that it's MY kid who needs it.
Part of me just wants to tell the schools to shove it, and to keep him home where I can love him and care for him and tuck him into bed every night. We could chuck all this school schedule crap and get him a part-time job at YNP again like he did last summer. The safety net is there for him, and we'll be able to provide financially also, so why do I put all of us through the torture that schools present? And why do I have this gut feeling that in the long run it won't make one damn itty bitty bit of difference.
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