A Different Journey

Communities across the nation are heading into graduation season. It is a tremendous threshold for young adults and their families. We celebrate grades, sports, service, theater, military, spiritual, and so many other aspects of life up to 18 years of age. Some hidden journeys happen, too. My son is on one of these.

He was born with the genetic condition Prader-Willi Syndrome. My husband and I knew there was something not typical about our newborn and, after 10 months of tests, we received the diagnosis. That moment profoundly changed the course of our family. It set us on the pathway of trying to keep life as normal as possible while meeting the needs of a child with pronounced medical, physical, emotional, and behavioral needs. There have been varying degrees of challenges over the years: speed bumps in the road, caution signs, and full-force detours.

Our son has had a medical team ranging from five professionals up to 20, depending on his age. He has had a full complement of Peninsula School District teachers and staff to this point in his life, too. From the Options to Teaching Responsibility, Academics, and Communication (TRAC) programs and general education to resource classes, his paraeducators, teachers, and all staff interwove an incredible support system.

My son’s peers have also acted as guides on this journey. Starting at the Purdy Developmental Preschool, the other students in his class gave him grace and understanding every day. Whether it was his quirky behavior or a full-fledged meltdown, classmates supported him with considerate acceptance in times of happiness and struggle.

Our journey is not heading where our family thought it would, though. Last year, my son had two major behavior events at school that resulted in admission to Mary Bridge Children’s Hospital for observation and then finding an alternate education out of the district. He has not, and will not, return to Peninsula High School for classroom instruction. He has not been part of senior year activities; he will not be in the yearbook; he does not have a presence at our local high school. For the last year and a half, his journey has been a hidden one.

Not in a bad or negative way, however. The school he attends is caring and supportive, and he is thriving. PSD staff have been very accommodating and communicative. My son is where he needs to be on his path to graduation. Yet, I must admit, there is a sliver of lament in my heart. He is an incredible person who must fight every day to do normal activities and fully understands there will be limits in his life. Pockets of our community know this because they know him outside of a school experience and all its ancillary activities. Even so, his journey has been hidden from most.

At graduation in June, he will walk with his Peninsula High School class. He is excited; we are excited. Like most families, there will be tears of joy, smiles, hugs, and congratulations. We will revel in the normalcy of it all. Then, it will be onto the next part of life with family and friends by our side. Through it all, we will send thanks to the wide range of people who pushed, pulled, and guided Junior to this point. I will also be hoping that any student who traveled a road with challenges feels supported, rejoiced, and seen. The landscape might be changing for the next part of the journey, maybe a different journey, but acknowledgment and support from family — from communities — make it worth the difference.

Jessica Takehara is a mother of three and teaches language arts and social studies at Harbor Ridge Middle School. She lives in Wauna.