I have to state very clearly that the word “helplessness” doesn’t relates to my son, Robert. It relates to the people and, institutions, which held and still hold the power to make decisions about Robert’s education and his life and thus were and are partially responsible for his current state and his wellbeing. .Unfortunately, that power was used to undermine, ignore. and /or deny my suggestions or requests.

In May of 2005, Robert attended T- Collaborative. It was his second year there and it wasn’t going well. The previous year the same program was pretty good for him. But from year to the next everything changed. The experienced, well trained teacher’s aides left to pursue more challenging opportunities. The new ones were not sure what were their roles and mostly were seating next to Robert as motionless as Egyptian relief sculptures. The old aides welcomed him warmly when they saw him approaching the school building, while the new ones seemed to scurry quickly pretending not to see him.

Robert didn’t like the program. I knew that despite the fact that his OCD was forcing him to go there every day. As we approached the building Robert walked slower and slower. His steps heavier and heavier. NO, he didn’t like the program, and the people there didn’t like him either. And he knew it.

One day, he behaved badly ( I still don’t know what he did exactly) and he was expelled to another room. It was a large room in a mobile unit. I was told that he was crying and banging on the window. That was a window with the glass loosely attached to the metal frame. More like a storm window, than a solid window in a regular school building. Robert cried, banged, and broke it.

No, he didn’t hurt himself, but he was suspended for a week.

Since he was suspended, the teachers, administrators of the school, the Collaborative, and the Department of Mental Retardation (as Department of Developmental Services was called then) had to meet with us, parents. I didn’t complain that Robert, who was clearly in distress, was left unattended in an empty room and could hurt himself very badly. Maybe there were reasons for that I didn’t complain about suspension, although given Robert’s diagnosis was illegal. I though the week at home would help Robert recover from emotional residues of the incident.

I didn’t complain.

I begged. I begged. I really begged all the attendees to find a different program for Robert. I begged over and over, but everybody there was firm that the different program wasn’t needed. Seemed that everybody there like Robert and wanted the best for him.

I felt hopeless, but then I started believing that maybe the teachers in this program, really can help him to adjust better and learn more.

I hoped.

But a few weeks later, the T Collaborative shut the door for Robert. I couldn’t understand it. There was no other incident that would have given me any idea that this was coming.

The main teacher, Julie X, told me in her slightly irritated tone (over the phone) that everything was legal, because they just didn’t want him in the summer program. And that is different than year long program. That this was all legal. Of course it wasn’t. It was a cruel thing to do and it was illegal.

Of course, Robert shouldn’t stay in the program where his teachers didn’t like him. Where his teachers displayed compassionless manipulativeness. Where he was never understood. He shouldn’t. Still, facing that reality was very hard on us, his parents, and it certainly had some negative effect on Robert. He dealt with it in his own wordless way. Wordless thus very damaging.

Many times I felt powerless when I couldn’t prevent problems with Robert’s education, problems that were caused by specific methods of teaching. But at that time, I at least knew, that the teachers tried to do their best as they perceived it. But with T Collaborative the sheer cruelty of the teachers, cruelty aimed at Robert really knocked me down.