So I think we have just about made it through these two transition weeks between the end of vacation and the start of school.

Phrew.

Not every moment has been as peaceful-easy feeling as during what I’ll call the midsummer of our summer, or the majority of our time at the beach. About a week ago, we had a rather exciting (code for “really really difficult plus”) afternoon and evening, which resulted in some battening down of the hatches and renewed reflections on Charlie growing up into a bigger and much stronger young person. It was a good thing to visit his neurologist on Monday (we are trying a slight increase in one of his medications) and Jim and I took some to think, ok, now what exactly was it that worked so well this past summer?

1. •Attentiveness to Charlie’s struggle and desire to communicate, and the ways in which what he says is not always what people assume is meant.
   

2. •Awareness of how tuned in Charlie is to other people’s feelings and especially picks up on anger, excitement, fear, worry, and conflict.
   

On Wednesday and Thursday, Jim and I had more than a few chances to put these observations into practice. I’ve been teaching since last week and Jim started teaching Wednesday. The plan was for me to take the train into Jersey City and Jim to drive in with Charlie by 10am.

Maybe anticipating all this, Charlie woke up at 5am on Wednesday and was semi-awake and tossing and turning when I left at 6.30. He got upset and cried and grabbed at Jim. They got breakfast and drove into pick me up on Kennedy Boulevard in Jersey City. We drove to Journal Square so Jim could take the PATH train to New York; as I made a turn on a heavily trafficked city street, Charlie cried out for “diner, diner” and arched his back and head hard into the back seat of the car. We drove to the driveway in front of the house where my office used to be and I told Charlie we couldn’t leave until he was calm. We remained there for an hour, Charlie with his head in his hands. A friend who is a special education teacher appeared and we talked quietly about IEPs and socialization. “Just remember,” he said, “you’re not alone.”

A couple of students waved at me as they walked up the hill to class and some stopped to talk. At that point, I asked Charlie if he felt ok and that we’d try to drive home. He said yes and, as we drove over the Route 1 & 9 truck bridge above the Passaic River, he smiled gently and with the glow from the summer, and the rest of the day passed with swimming at the YMCA, a trip to the grocery store, looking at photos (of Charlie as a baby and a trip I made to China in 1993), and a fair amount of You-Tubing/typing practice.

We were planning that Thursday would be a repeat (I take the train, Jim drives Charlie in), but Jim was informed (on Monday) that one of his classes meets at 10am, instead of later. So Wednesday’s arrangement was not going to work. Jim and I got up early, roused Charlie and got him into the black car, and drove into Jersey City. Jim got out of the car as we waited for a red light on Sip Avenue and made a run for the PATH, and off went Charlie and I down Kennedy Boulevard. We found a parking place again in front of my old office and Charlie (all smiles so far) asked to go in. We went inside, Charlie walked up the stairs and stood grinning in my old office, then went downstairs and fell asleep on one of the couches in the main room. I ran across the street where our friend lives (his wife works for the college) and, more than luckily, he was home and said it’d be no problem to sit with Charlie, which he proceeded to do. I ran to my 9am class and gave them a quiz, stood in line to buy my parking permit, and hurried back to a sleeping Charlie. The rest of the day passed with too much time on the couch with electronic devices (such is 21st century life), me reading up on methods of archaeological excavation and the principle of superposition, a bike ride when Jim came home, and a diner dinner. 

“School tomorrow, no school tomorrow,” said Charlie when we came back home. We pointed out that he’s got a few more days to go; he took off his shoes and said “bedtime.”

And after I’d brought in his latest assortment of favorite items (these remain a constant, and his blue iPod), Jim went to the gym and I went back to the Sumerians.