Moving from one suburban town to another with two kids has been more of an upheaval than the moving of boxes from one place to another. Yes, the actual move was tough, and I'm serioiusly homesick right now. I'm missing the rough edges and the solidity of an old house. I'm not quite at home in this mid-century box. It will take some time to make it my own, I think. Still, the biggest transition is the school shift.
Jonah is in a new middle school. I admit that I had huge amounts of momma-guilt about moving a kid in seventh grade. Huge. Like wake up in the middle of the night guilt. After one day, the guilt was gone, because Jonah slid effortlessly into a new school. He knew one boy in his grade from his traveling soccer team, so he had a table to sit at in the cafeteria. When you're in seventh grade, where you sit in the cafeteria is the biggest worry and I knew that. Jonah is an easy-going kid, who makes friends easily and already has found his place in the new town. Momma-guilt gone.
His old school and new school are miles apart in how they interact with parents, use of technology, and general perky attitude. I'm not quite sure how to deal with these happy teachers who regularly inform me about upcoming tests and homework grades. There might be such a thing as too much parental involvement. I'm too shocked to make any objective assessment of this new school culture.
Ian is still attending the same public school program. This town has a program for high functioning kids like Ian, which also is a part-inclusion system. The special education administrator and I decided to keep him in his old program for the time being, until we could determine which program was better suited to Ian. The wheels of the special education bureaucracy move slowly, and with so many people involved, mistakes happen. All of his paperwork was lost, and I had to spend three days recopying everything from birth certificates to immunization records.
The biggest problem so far has been the transportation. The district put him on a bus with a kid with emotional problems. After Ian was injured for the third time last Friday, I decided that it was best if I drove him back and forth to school every day. That means 2-1/2 hours in a car for me.
I keep thinking that things are returning to normal, but then it doesn't happen. I'm not sure what normal is anymore.