This past week we had your annual IEP meeting, held virtually due to, of course, Covid. I have a confession to make.
I actually enjoy your IEP meetings.
For many people IEP meetings are a contentious experience akin to root canal or a trip to the DMV, but for me dear boy, it’s mostly been a chance to hear in greater depth all the wonderful things you’re doing, and see how much your teachers care about you.
It’s just a touch of a spa day for me.
This year I had questions. I wanted to know if your monthly outings will resume soon (they will), if in-person BCBAs will be reinstated (they will too), but mostly I wanted to ask if you, my boy, could have a job.
And the answer was a resounding yes.
I’m not sure what it will entail. It could be folding pizza boxes. It could be wiping down equipment in a gym. It might even entail light office work (not sure what that is, but it sounds fun).
I don’t really care what it is as long as you like it.
In three years you graduate, and although I’m going to do my best to have you continue living your best life, I’m not sure I can pull off a job or volunteering for you. So knowing you’ll have this experience until you’re twenty-one means a lot to me.
And I’m hoping it will mean a lot to you too.
Who knows. Maybe within the space of a few months every member of the McCafferty clan will be working except your little brother (I’ll have to look into that).
Perhaps you will go to an office, or a restaurant, or a gym and engage in an activity that will give you pride, or at least get you off-campus for a few hours, which I know you always think is fun.
I hope you love what you do.
I can’t wait to hear about it and see pictures. Know I will be rooting for you.
So proud of you, my son.
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