special needs parenting
The appointment of Betsy DeVos as the Secretary of Education could not come at a worse time for our family and many others.
The phone rang, it was my wife Chavie, I knew she was calling with an update, but it was not one I was hoping for. “The neurologist
Looking back on those two people exchanging vows on a late September afternoon nearly two decades ago, I see how naïve they
Pride being more powerful than shame, it makes sense to me to teach my daughter that she has a right to be here. She has contributions to make. Down syndrome can and should define her. Her presence is as necessary to the world as the star shine is.
Black Widow Kate is a superhero and she identifies with other superheroes because she knows it. So, enjoy her many alter
Her MRI revealed major brain damage, but we have never learned the origin or extent of it. We have never been given a name
How could I begin to explain just how much having a disabled parent would impact my child's school year?
Hey, parent? Yes, you -- the one with the incredible, wonderful child whose path has not been as easy as you'd like it to be. I just want you to know that I get it.
I had so many judgments about parenting... before I was a parent. More specifically, before I was a parent to two kids with special needs. I was sure I knew the magic formula to raising creative, inquisitive, polite, humble children -- full of curiosity and bursting with energy for seasonal crafting projects. I was kind of an ass. A well-intentioned ass.
The Only Federal Law Enforced By Angry Parents: How One Man Continues To Support Youth With Special Needs
I also received an offer to teach at a small school in a Presbyterian church that worked with Special-Ed elementary students
Hope can deflate grief, and I intend to draw that weapon more often.
It seems to be inherently linked with special education teachers. Yet, I would never have described myself as a patient person. Inquisitive, determined, flexible, even funny, yes, but patient? No way.
I wanted to insert myself into the conversation happening a few feet away from me, to explain and to defend -- but I held back. I craned my neck a bit, waiting to hear what my children would say to the little girl who had just asked about my daughter's red, peeling skin.
I am an avid reader. I read tons of books and even more blogs. As someone who considers himself to be a part of the special
Why Am I Staring At You? Because I Wish I Had Your Life At least once a week, one of those “To the mom who…” letters pop
With everything my husband and I have done to ensure our daughter's safety, as well as never really letting her get that far from our sight, why on earth did her brother think he needed to be so responsible for her?
Five and a half years ago we were blessed with a little bundle of joy on the morning of Christmas Eve. Our daughter, Evalyn, came into the world as an early Christmas gift for us. She was born with a serious congenital heart defect and struggled after birth.
I now know I became a card-carrying member of the grown-up set the morning I looked down at my gorgeous second child, who was only six weeks old, and was struck with the overwhelming feeling that there was something profoundly wrong with her. Yes, I became an adult at 36, the day I knew in my heart that my daughter had significant special needs.
Do I have a cold streak of fear flash through me at that 83% chance? I've often said that having a child with special needs