The Big Move to New Era

This week, we made the big move. When I say "we", I refer not just to my family but to my friends -- all special mommies as well -- who also made a major decision that would profoundly impact the lives of our special children.
Leaving MI School, where Ragu has worked with the most wonderful teachers (Teacher Sharon and Teacher Jovi are precious not only to Ragu but also to me), was not an easy decision. Change is always hard to embrace. For someone like Ragu who can be quite rigid, this can be quite an earthshaking move, just as it is for me, too. MI was a comfort zone. But the fact that I cannot

change is that Ragu is quickly growing up (he is almost as tall as me now) and sometime, somehow, I would have to let him confront the real world. Real meaning the world that neurotypicals know, the world controlled by DepEd that the rest put up with. MI was a protective shell, which was good for his growing soul. But now his growing soul has to grow some more, and that will have to happen in a totally different place -- New Era. Moving to New Era is a great shift for me as well. I had to overcome all my religious biases, for one, and find peace in the knowledge that the Almighty, in His Wisdom, understands my every move.
This could have been a lonely decision, except that, to my great surprise, my friends from MI chose to make the same move for their children also at the same time. I am heartened to hear that Joaquin Angliongto, who Ragu was particularly protective of during their Primary B days, is joining him in New Era. Kiko Tan, Luther Ong, Jovi Joson, Hans, Lenlen Romantico and Benito Macapagal are moving too. (They will miss Miko Manzano and Joshua Aquino who are staying at MI. ) This gives me strength, for Ragu and I will make the big leap at the same time that kindred souls are making the same big leap, saying the same prayers to the same God and the same Blessed Mother who will, no doubt, send their angels to see our children through.
In the meantime, I am trying very hard to help Ragu through his adjustment period. He has been sad about leaving MI, and fusses that there is no aircon in New Era ( I tell him that he is supposed to enjoy the fresh air) and that no one speaks English (I tell him he has to learn Filipino because he is, after all, a Filipino). Jacob, who is going to Grade One at PAREF-Northfield, is similarly sad that there is no aircon in Northfield, and worries that he will won't learn Filipino as well as others. (Miguel, Jacob and Ragu all thought "saging" was an animal and argued that "kuneho" meant tiger) I let them fuss and worry together. What won't break them will only make them stronger.

"Outgrowing" autism

Every mother with a child who is autistic hopes that one day, he will eventually outgrow some of the traits that make him "different." Doctors and teachers will, of course, laugh that off as just another mother's wish, but hey, don't mothers know their own children the best? Truth to tell, I don't really think that my son, Isaac, will ever "outgrow" his autism, except that his eldest brother, Ragu, thinks he will.
At eleven, we can dismiss Ragu as just another kid wishing the best for his brother. Except that Ragu himself has "outgrown" some of his autistic traits -- at least, to him. "Don't worry, mom, Isaac will stop being crazy, just like me," he assured me last night. Then he went on a monologue that surprised me with the astonishing richness of its detail. He went on to relate the things he used to do that drove me to near tears. "I liked to hit the TV because I thought I could stop it from moving," he said. "I liked to jump in a circle because it was good!" And the clincher: "I didn't know how to talk when I was a toddler and you didn't understand me," said with a hearty laugh that seemed to say "poor, lost mommy."
Of course, I had to ask. "So how did you stop being crazy?" to which he replied "I learned." How, I prodded him. "School, i went to school and I had computer games!" "So what helped more, "I asked, to which he emphatically declared: "computer games!" What else helped? Daddy. Mommy. Yaya Virgie.
So will Isaac ever stop "being crazy," I asked Ragu. To which he said "yes."
Only a mom will ever pin her hopes on an eleven year old's prediction, but as far as I am concerned, Ragu's words, coupled with the healing that can only come from Jesus and Mary, will see Isaac through.