A Clearer Lens

Travis’s first out of district placement was at a residential therapeutic treatment center. (Yes, I did say first.) This center had four day treatment slots. That means that Travis was one of four kids that went home each day. Every other child at the facility lived there. This center was not located in our home town, so Travis had to be bussed each day.

I have saved every piece of paper, every daily point sheet, every back and forth notebook, every evaluation regarding Travis. I have all of his paperwork, boxes full, from his birth through today.

I am not exactly sure why. I did tell Travis early on that I may write a book about him. But at the time that was a far off idea. An idea that brewed in the back of my mind for years. An idea that my daughter, Corey, encouraged me to pursue many times.

But I had already saved years of information before the “No Stone Left Unturned” book was even an idea.

Over the years I have shared several Travis stories. With all kinds of folks. Teachers, therapists, friends, neighbors, even strangers. Maybe I met someone at a conference. Or the gym. And I found that as I shared our story these people had questions. Questions that I was able to answer because of a Travis story that our family had already experienced. These questions were asked because they had a friend or a family member, or they themselves, were in a similar situation and needed some advice.

And not only had I already experienced a great deal as the mother of Travis, but I began to read everything I could get my hands on.

Having saved all of this information regarding Travis has been helpful in many ways. But at the same time it has been hard in many ways.

Many of the stories that I have been sharing in my blog over the last four months are forefront in my memory because we have shared them with so many people along the way. They are etched in my memory because they were hard as we lived them. Or funny as we lived them. Or sweet.

But to be honest, pulling out the point sheets, the notes, the evaluations and reviewing them has refreshed these memories in greater detail. I am seeing them through a clearer lens. With more focus. The hurts, the laughs, the sweetness.

And as I mull it over I believe that I may have saved all of these boxes of paperwork for another reason as well. I think I kept them to confirm our story. It would be hard to believe otherwise. I have all of this evidence in writing of the ineptness of many of the professionals involved in our story.

And don’t get me wrong, over the years we have experienced many professionals that truly cared about Travis and our family. But I am shocked and disappointed in the lack of good care. Especially for children with mental health issues.

And I have many notes. Because each time a new professional was added to our story I wrote them a several page letter to give them as much background history as possible. And I updated it often. Because there were many new professionals. In hopes that with all of this background information about Travis, the next new professional would have the “aha” moment and have a fix.

Parents trust the educators to know what is best for our kids. And the doctors. The therapists.

The paperwork is also hard to review because I know so much more now than I did then. And I look back and realize that we put way too much trust in the “professionals” in making decisions for Travis.

And I wonder what kind of difference would it have made in his life today, his happiness, if we had taken a different path years ago.

I knew back then that sending Travis to school at a treatment center did not feel right. But I didn’t know what else to do. It was presented to us by our school district as the only option available.

And I didn’t know then what I know now.

Right now I am looking at the treatment center handbook. The first page starts, “Dear Family members, GAL’s (Guardian Ad Litum), and Caseworkers”…

Did I notice that back then? That they are addressing the adults involved in these kiddos lives, and they are not the parents. The letter also mentions that they are excited to work with your foster child.

Travis spent fourteen months at this center. The longer he was there the more we understood that this was not the proper setting for him.

Travis did display some erratic emotional behaviors. But we argued that it came from a different source. The other children lived a life full of trauma. They were placed in this center because their resulting behaviors were more than a foster parent could handle.

For these children to end up in foster care things had to be pretty bad at home. These children had been abused and neglected. Some of their parents were in jail. Or were addicts.

I remember watching this difference play out at the center’s Halloween party. Each child was given a gallon sized plastic baggie. They participated in activities at different booths, and when completed they received candy for their bag. I watched every child carry their bag from booth to booth and fill it to the top. So full that they were unable to zip the bag.

Except Travis. His bag was on the floor, forgotten, with a few pieces of candy in it. He went to each booth and participated in the activities again and again. But didn’t ask for the candy reward. I believe this may have been because all of his needs were being met at home.

On another occasion we witnessed a child come into the residential side of the center. With everything they owned in a trash bag. We watched as a center employee helped the child move everything they owned into a small cubby.

The other kids knew Travis was different. He got to go home each day. His parents came to his school parties, not a caseworker. Travis shared with me that the teacher would ask the kids on Monday mornings what they had done over the weekend. Why would the teacher do that? When all of the residential kids would have the same answer. Maybe they got to walk as a group to the closest park.

Travis had stories about cub scout camping, or going to a Rockies game. Hot air ballooning. Or racing at the BMX bike track. Didn’t the teacher realize she was singling him out?

We had monthly team TPR (Treatment Plan Review) meetings. These were attended by the center teacher, administrator, therapist and of course us. Our home district was invited to attend, but a representative never showed up.

Remember, at the time we believed that Travis had a medical reason for his behaviors. We believed that he had a learning disability. We were just beginning to investigate whether he may be on the autism spectrum. And we asked the district to test for learning disabilities.

We wanted to get to the bottom of his learning ability. We were only asking for the testing that a district is required to do when a child is on an IEP (Individualized Education Plan).

At every one of these meetings we brought up that we did not think the center was a good fit. And at every one of these meetings we asked about when the testing would be completed. And at every one of these meetings the center administrator told us that they had spoke to our home district and they said the testing was four weeks out.

Month after month. And I know this because the meetings had minutes. And the minutes were sent to the special education director of our home district. This would play an important role later in our story.

What we did know for sure is that taking a child with behavior issues in the classroom as a result of overstimulation and maybe a learning disorder and placing him in a classroom full of kids with behavior issues as a result of the trauma in their lives was not a good mix.

There was continuous noise, outbursts, fighting. And the kids came and went. If a child earned their way out of the center and back to a foster family, a new and different child took their place. Travis once begged us to adopt a girl in his class and was heartbroken when one day he went to school and she was gone.

I noticed when we toured the facility that the backyard had an eight foot fence with barbwire along the top. You had to be buzzed in, and wait in a reception area for someone to come get you to bring you to your child’s classroom. Maybe this was necessary for the residential kids to keep them safe. But to a kid attending school there it felt like a prison.

The handbook states that the treatment center combined therapy with a consistent behavior modification program. The center’s goal was to create a safe and stable environment for children to express themselves and recover from past trauma.

Travis lived in a safe and stable environment surrounded by love.

Read my next blog article to learn more about the center’s behavior modification program. And why it wouldn’t work for a kiddo like Travis. And why the “professionals” should have known better.

“Allowing a student with a hidden disability (ADHD, Anxiety, Dyslexia) to struggle academically or socially when all that is needed for success are appropriate accommodations and explicit instruction, is no different than failing to provide a ramp for a person in a wheelchair.” - Author Unknown