Dear Soon to be ex-Case Manager,
The call from you came yesterday with that bland generic “my sons’ public school district’s” phone number popping up, and as always, I held my breath.
Is Zach sick?
Did I forget to send in his lunch (again)?
Is Justin’s placement in jeopardy (Dear God no, it’s too early for wine).
Fortunately it was none of the above, just you dear case manager, calling to tell me after about eleven years of almost continuous service for our boy, you’ve been reassigned.
Cue adrenaline, and deep deep regret.
I’ll have Justin’s public school administrators know that this was not in the Kim McCafferty lifetime plan, the one where we had you for the next seven years, inappropriately invite you to his high school graduation, and bask in our mutual understanding of one another. We’ve had two other case managers over the years and they were lovely, but neither lasted that long so I didn’t become attached.
Yes, I know I have an issue.
I easily recall the day you let us know you’d been reassigned once more to our family. It involved my 6’4” husband almost dancing (yes, I said dancing) across the front lawn holding out the phone to me as I waited for Justin, crowing with delight the words that filled our hearts- “She’s back! She’s back!” as I skipped (yup!) across our grass to grab the phone to hear it for myself.
Pathetic? Maybe. But I guarantee any parent of an autistic child reading this gets it.
The thing is, you “get” us, and you “get” Justin, and that’s absolutely priceless. I remember meeting you eleven years ago after we’d just moved to NJ from Washington, DC, and frankly, I was still in a bit of shock (and unbeknownst to me at the time about to get pregnant again, trust me, an even bigger shock). You calmly walked a very stressed out mom through all our options for Justin at that first meeting, and when things didn’t go as planned, helped us come up with viable alternatives.
You truly listened to us. As a former educator, I knew it was a gift.
The thing is, you’ve watched him grow up. You’ve seen him through three different communication systems, just as many placements, and you never balked when we came to the difficult decision that perhaps a public school placement wasn’t the right thing for him anymore. You (almost literally) held my hand as we looked at different options, scouted out others on your own, and led me away from places you told me you’d never send your own kids.
I can’t tell you how much I appreciated your honesty.
You always returned my calls, even in the early days when the sheer volume of my queries would have driven anyone to quit. You supported our choice of placement, rejoiced when he got accepted. When his iPad eventually broke (twice) you moved mountains to get it fixed so my boy wouldn’t be without his words.
In my words, I’m so grateful that you cared.
You see, the thing is dear case manager, I was hoping if this family kept our heads down the powers that be wouldn’t notice you’d been with us almost a decade, but I guess a little reorganization is in order, and it’s time to share the wealth of you. Before you go I want you to know how much your concern for our family, your organizational skills, and your knowledge base helped us. You were one less thing I had to worry about, and trust me, especially in those days where I had two autistic kids under the age of four, I needed one less thing to worry about.
I know that’s not in your job description, but thanks anyway.
You really were magnificent, and trust me, I’m a former teacher from a family of them, I know what’s out there. You will forever be a part of “Team Justin,” and have made a major contribution to my productive, kind, and happy child. Please take that knowledge with you when you go, and know how lucky those future families are (yes, I’m jealous). And know that if you ever come back, skipping and dancing will again ensue.
It’s a promise.
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