Tuesday, September 17, 2019

Kumbaya

                         So dear reader, as I imagine you know by now, I do try to be somewhat sensitive to Feisty Pants' (and everybody else's ) privacy.  I make up funny nicknames. I try to not give out too many embarrassing details about my teenage kid (What? I do too try!)   After all, I really only have the right to tell my story from my point of view. But right now, I am so frustrated I just want to name names, and dates, and let privacy go take a flying leap at itself.   Who am I kidding, I wanna grow fangs and howl at the moon because I feel stymied and angry and thwarted. 
                          Allow me to explain, my daughter attends a school program run by the county not our school district. It's a good program and a good fit for Feisty Pants but involves two different schools.   BOCES runs the actual school. Our local district pays for the program and is responsible for transportation.  The local district outsources the transportation to a for profit bus company.  When this works well, it all goes along swimmingly.  When it doesn't, it's a nightmare of buck passing and bullshit.  Which is exactly what it is right now.  You see the bus company provides transportation for the entire district. I suspect they don't have enough actual buses.  Which is not really my problem.   But it does mean they do things like DROP OFF FEISTY PANTS ALMOST HALF AN HOUR AFTER SCHOOL STARTS AND PICK HER UP ALMOST FORTY FIVE MINUTES BEFORE HER SCHOOL DAY ENDS.  They have always picked her up before the school day ends (which I hate), but  in earlier years they at least got her there on time. Now they don't bother with the pretense.  It is as my friend Awesome Pants puts it, blatant discrimination.  I prefer textbook violation of my daughter's civil rights. Especially as now she is dropped off just before 9am (her school day starts at 8:30) and is picked up at around 1:45-1:50 pm (her school day ends at 2:30).   In years before when I complained, I was told she was getting her state mandated five hours of instruction.   She is now 16, so it is five and half hours of mandated instruction.  Oh and by the way, typical students' lunchtimes do not count so why does hers???   If you do the math however, she is getting, at best, 4 hours and 45 minutes.
                         And so I complain.  First to Broome-Tioga Boces, where she goes to school. They brush me off by telling me that it is her home district's issue to fix because they provide the transportation. Then I go to Binghamton City School District. They claim it's up to the busing company, First Student.   Then I go to First Student. They claim it's all up to Binghamton and they are just doing what they are told to do.  Everyone is very polite. And NOT ONE DAMN THING CHANGES, even though this is ILLEGAL. Any one of these entities could fix this.  Boces could refuse to allow the students to leave the classroom  before school is over.   Binghamton could tell the bus company to provide enough buses so they didn't have to shorten the special education students' days. First Student could suck it up and do their job properly instead of maximizing their profits at the expense of the students' educations. But no one does anything and I am treated like the I am unreasonable, or worse, I just "don't understand" because I think my disabled child's education is more than just glorified daycare.  Or even more worse, that I am just shrill and complaining. 
                      Honestly,  I am not trying to be controlling. If Feisty Pants could get all her therapies and make it into college by going to school fifteen minutes a day I'd be totally fine with it. But I am so effing tired of being expected to act as I should be grateful for any little pittance society throws our way because being disabled means somebody might have to spend money. My child is no less deserving than any other human being on this planet of an education and necessary medical care and an equal chance at a full, autonomous life.   And I will do what it takes to get that for her because that is my job.  If you, random bureaucrat, at the end of the day  wanna hold my hand and sing Kumbaya, cool.  If at the end of the day, you give an involuntary shudder every time I ring your phone or hit up your inbox, I'm still cool because making you happy is NOT my job, especially if Feisty Pants is the one giving something up because you don't want to do your job properly.