**March is Cerebral Palsy Awareness Month. I plan to write and share and probably overshare here this month in an attempt to educate, and even celebrate the ways my family is unique. **
If you have been with me here for more than a minute, you probably know that I tend to be a glass half-full sort of girl. Often during those preschool years, I was just grateful for the fact that I got to have little babies in my arms longer than normal because of their early birth. I fully embraced that time. And yet....before I could blink -- or shower even -- my three were ready for preschool.
The admission meeting for our little preferred school -- Buttonwood -- was enlightening:
Teacher: "Can Claire dress herself?"
Me: "No....but is that a thing she should be able to do at three? Because that would be awesome!"
Teacher: "Can the triplets use scissors?"
Me: "How would I know? I have three-year-old triplets, there are NO scissors in our house!"
You get the idea.
Preschool was just two mornings a week. For two hours. I was a nervous wreck and frankly I missed their little faces. Benjamin, Mason, and Claire adored it!
And then it was time to visit kindergartens and think about their formal education.
It didn't start smoothly. I loaded my babies and we went to visit the private school in our community where most of my friends sent their children. I have to fight tears just remembering that headmaster sitting across his desk from the four of us.
"Mrs. Shrader, this is what we can do," he began. "We'll enroll your children on a three-month probationary period. If in three months it proves too hard on my teachers, we will have to ask you to find somewhere else for them to attend school."
Looking back on the moment, I know my Mama Bear voice was not as firm as it might be today, I was not quite five years into it. But even so, I cleared my throat and looked that man in the eyes as I said, "Really? And you think starting kindergarten on PROBATION is the best way to set them up for success? I cannot even imagine the stress that would place on them and on us as a family. No thank you."
We visited other schools before landing on the local public elementary school. The principal was warm and welcoming and the teachers in no way made us feel burdensome.
And yet, three days into their kindergarten year, Mason burst in to tears when I asked him about his day:
"I can't play with my friends. They won't let me go down to the playground."
I had no idea what was going on but the Mama Bear inside me was growing with each moment. I looked at my sweet boy and promised him I would fix it. I was in the principal's office the next morning as soon as I dropped them at school.
"The playground is old and down in a ravine," she told me. "It would be dangerous for Mason to even get to it."
She told me they had petitioned for a new playground to be built behind the school on level ground but it wasn't high on the district's priorities. I asked if I could start a fund-raising campaign for an accessible playground, so desperate was I to make this work for my babies (I had said I would fix it after all.). Our principal said she would support it 100 percent.
I started by calling the school district. Principal was correct. They had it on their list to improve the playground but it might be ten years before that happened.
I contacted an accessible playground maker. He brought me catalogs and showed me the wide-range of access he could offer the students at our school. It was amazing.
And we would need a minimum of $40,000. $70,000 would be better.
Undaunted, I began by assembling a team. Two moms in the triplets' classroom got behind me immediately. We started holding planning meetings and quickly learned we needed to be under the PTA's umbrella for this to work. It never occurred to me that might be a problem.
It should have. One mom legitimately stood up and said she was fine with the current playground. There was no need for the new one. I wasn't prepared to argue. I assumed this was a no-brainer -- all our children playing together seemed a win-win for all of us. I assured her, and the PTA, that I would do the work with my committee. We wouldn't ask for them to do anything. Further, I assured them we would not take funds from any other project they already had earmarked for the year. Hindsight has not helped me reconstruct this situation at all. All these years later, I still do not understand the way this one mother fought the playground -- and rallied her friends to do the same. I was a newcomer and could easily have lost this battle. But the teachers at our little elementary school were fierce. They had heard the rumblings far earlier than I. They showed up to that PTA en masse and voted 100% in favor of moving forward with raising funds for the accessible playground.
So my little committee went to work. We wrote and sent hundreds of letters. We wrote and sent press releases. We reached out to every news outlet in the Rochester area. We held a penny drive at school. The principal gave prizes for the classroom who raised the most. One day my dear friend brought her son to our home. Joshua went to a different elementary school. He wouldn't get the benefit of the playground. But he knew his friends were trying to build one. He took his piggy bank to his mom and asked her to give it to me. I could not hold back my tears.
After one news program aired a piece on the playground I received a call from an older lady in the community. She planned to write me a check but first she needed me to assure her that only those "two cute little boys" she saw on the news would get to play on the playground (she was referring to my boys). Those other kids could play anywhere she said. I tried to explain inclusion. She didn't understand but her heart was in the right place.
At the end of the school year, we had raised $17,000. We were grossly short. I was sad -- I had wanted the playground built and ready when first grade began -- but I was not undeterred. It would just take longer.
In July, I received a phone call from the playground company. They had assembled an accessible playground for their catalog photos. They were willing to disassemble and rebuild it at our school for a fraction of the cost if we were interested. And by fraction, I mean they were willing to do it for just a few thousand more than we had collected. I immediately called the school district and they chipped in the extra dollars.
We started first grade with a playground that allowed my boys to be included with their friends. We started first grade with a way to participate in the most important aspect of elementary school -- RECESS!
I am just going to be totally honest here: I felt pretty confident we could bulldoze our way over any and every obstacle. Mama Bear was feeling a bit smug.
(You know this isn't over, right?! Come back later this week!)
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