- In 1974, the school would not take him,
because they said--because he had
an intellectual disability.
That was before the federal legislation
that gives all children the right
to an education.
Not having the school bus stop
at our house, which was very painful
to see every child in the neighborhood
getting on the school bus.
We worked
with the superintendent of schools,
and he told us that
if we would write a grant
and get money for a teacher--and when I
say "we," my husband and myself--
if we could find
six or seven other children
with similar significant support needs,
and if we could recommend a teacher,
then he would do us "the favor" of having
the custodian clean out the storage room
in the administration building--space
in the administration building
without any other children
in the building.
We started and we did it and eventually,
that class moved
to a typical elementary school.
And eventually,
the students in that class began
to attend at least part of the school day,
general education.
But the most devastating--when you said,
you know, heartbreak,
just--I can still remember the feelings.
When he graduated from high school,
the only adult program
that was available was
a very segregated, sheltered workshop,
and Jay hated it.
He--Jay experienced
an intellectual disability
but also autism
and a bipolar disorder,
and so he had very complicated
support needs.
He knew the difference
in dignity and no dignity,
and in this workshop and group home,
where there was no dignity,
he very much rebelled.
Before this happened, his younger sister,
who at that time was
about in third or fourth grade,
went to see him,
to visit him in the group home
after he had been there a week or so,
and she came home and was very angry.
She said, "Mom,
"you wouldn't want to live there.
"I wouldn't want to live there.
Why is it okay for Jay to live there?"
He chose the one person
that was in the group home
whose family had the power
to get Jay kicked out
faster than anybody else could have.
He started hitting and choking
the son of a state legislator,
and that was a very short ticket
for Jay to be expelled
from the only program.
But when we were meeting
with the director,
and he was telling my husband and me
that Jay was no longer able to come
to the program,
and we were--we were eager to tell him
we were withdrawing Jay.
We wanted to withdraw Jay
before he expelled Jay.
We told him that we were going to start
a small nonprofit
and that we were going to offer
supported living and supported work
and that Jay would have an opportunity
for a life with dignity.
And he said,
"What are you going to do when you fail?"
But I was really speechless,
because we didn't know
what we were gonna do.
And we knew what he was saying is,
he was the only program in town;
we would come back and beg him
to let Jay back in.
"What are you gonna do when you fail?
You're gonna come back and ask for me
to get you back into this program."
And my husband said,
"We're not going to fail.
"We're going to succeed.
And that's not a threat.
It's a promise."
And then we left.
We were free from shackles of the system,
but we didn't know how to put together
what was going to be needed
for Jay to flourish.
That started a fire
of building inclusive communities
for not just children to go to school,
but for adults to live and work
and--and recreate
and have a wonderful life
in the community.
And I'm so thankful that
that came about in Jay's life.
