This past summer was filled with anxiety for me. My son, who has unique needs, has a late birthday, just barely two days before the cutoff date. I constantly debated whether to hold him back a year. As a child on the autism spectrum, I found myself worrying about how well the school would cater to his needs. Would he thrive in the classroom? Would he find friends? Would my chatty little guy have enough time to finish his lunch? And most importantly, would he cope with the loud alarms during fire drills given his sensory sensitivities?
The days leading up to his first day of school were so stressful that I didn’t feel the emotional pangs that others described when dropping their kids off. I was too preoccupied with logistics, rushing him out the door in the mornings and back again in the afternoon, leaving little time for my worries to settle in.
We recently bought a house directly behind his elementary school. From my kitchen window, I can see the swings on the main playground. However, I can’t see the kindergarten area unless I trek to the back of my yard, so for now, I take it as a good sign that I haven’t invested in binoculars to keep a watchful eye on him during the day.
But a few days into school, I hit a breaking point. On a lovely day with the windows open, I heard his principal’s voice echo outside. He has a reassuring tone when he talks to the kids, but I also knew he could project if needed. I glanced outside to see a line of students, with the principal reminding them to keep their hands to themselves and focus on their teachers.
It was the first lockdown drill.
I lost it. The thought of loud noises has always been difficult for my son; the sensory overload can be overwhelming. I wanted to leap over the fence and find him, to hug him tightly and assure him he was safe. I silently hoped he would be brave.
That day, I made it to pick-up on time, expecting to find my little boy distressed. Instead, he was bubbly, recounting stories of new friends and fun activities. When I finally asked about the fire drill, he casually mentioned that it was a “lockdown drill, not a fire drill.” My heart sank.
“Did that scare you?” I asked, bracing for a fearful response.
“No, Mommy. It’s just pretend,” he replied, almost as if he was trying to soothe me, just like I would for him.
Once home, he burst into laughter about squeezing into a closet with his friends. My heart raced—what was he doing in a closet?
“For the lockdown drill, Mommy. I was too big!” he exclaimed, tossing his backpack aside and racing off to play with his beloved Paw Patrol toys.
For a moment, I was frozen. As I processed his words, I felt a wave of dread wash over me. The horrifying thought of my son being unable to find a safe place to hide during an active shooter situation left me breathless. My baby. Though his school was just steps away, it suddenly felt miles apart. I had spent the summer planning for his success and safety, only to be confronted with the reality of things I couldn’t shield him from. Trusting the school with his well-being felt like relinquishing control, a sensation I’m not accustomed to.
I know his teacher directed him to hide in a safer spot, and I trust that the school has protocols to protect the students. Yet, amidst all my planning and worrying, I had completely overlooked the gravity of lockdown drills. Our schools have sadly become potential targets for violence, and now my sweet, innocent child has to prepare for that reality. It hit me hard.
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In summary, navigating the school environment with a child who has special needs can be fraught with challenges, especially with the added weight of lockdown drills. It’s a stark reminder of the realities we face today and the delicate balance between ensuring our children’s safety and letting them experience life.
Keyphrase: School lockdown drills and special needs
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