March 19, 2013 | 11:55 pm

The Plague of Exclusion

Posted by Michelle K. Wolf

I’ve been getting the sad stories via email, direct messages on Facebook, and over Kiddush at shul—mothers sharing with me that their child with mild special needs has been asked to leave a Jewish school/camp or other setting. What’s so astonishing is that these are mostly kids with learning differences, or attention-deficit issues, not multiple developmental disabilities like our 18-yearold son, Danny.  What is going on here?

The general arc of the story is that the kids are accepted into a program when they are young,  then the learning difference surfaces, some intervention is tried, and when that isn’t working, parents are “counseled out”.  Other programs, especially those geared for high academic achievement, will reject kids with learning differences outright.

As I told the Jewish Forward reporter in this article  “Should Every Disabled Child Get a Jewish Education?" we didn’t even bother applying to a Jewish nursery school when Danny was 3 because it was so clear he needed specialized services such as speech therapy and physical therapy.

But as someone who studied Jewish communal service in grad school and has worked in the field for over 25 years, I can’t figure out why Jewish schools, camps and other Jewish organizations aren’t able to accommodate kids with learning differences. Frankly, it’s not that hard, and doesn’t take a whole lot of money. It isn't, as they say, rocket science. There are literally millions of resources available on the Internet.

A great place to start reading about differentiated learning is right in the Hagaddah, as part of traditional “Four Sons” portion. There’s the wise child, the wicked child, a simple child and the child who does not know how to ask.  Each category of child is to receive different, personalized instruction. As it says in Pesachim 116a, “The parent should teach each child on the level of his/her understanding.”

If we could just apply that ancient wisdom to our communal formal and informal educational programs  that would warrant one good round of off-key singing together “Dayyenu  (It would have been enough)!”

March 8, 2013 | 12:29 am

Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow

Posted by Michelle K. Wolf

When your children are babies, the idea of them becoming teenagers and running around town on their own seems crazy. With less instinct than a household pet, infants are totally dependent on the grown-ups around them for everything—food, shelter, love. And yet, somehow they move ahead through the developmental milestones laid out so neatly in all those “What to Expect the First Three Years” books and start walking around, communicating, and becoming someone who hates anything cooked with onions.

For parents of children with special needs, that trajectory starts moving off course, at first just a few degrees, but then takes you to a whole different state of being, until you are so focused on trying out a new therapy, a different medication and getting through the annual IEP (Individual Education Plan) meeting with the public school district that you can’t possibly think ahead more than just a few months ahead.

But kids, no matter what, don’t stay young forever.

I had the opportunity this week to hang out with adults with special needs who are participants with JFS/Chaverim, a non-sectarian social friendship program. First was the 6th Annual Karaoke Competition at Temple Judea, loosely based on the American Idol format of having the audience choose a winner. Eight brave adults, 6 guys and 2 women, ranging in age from mid-20s to almost 60, took to the stage solo and gamely sang as the lyrics flashed up on a screen. Some used props, others went for the bold gestures while others focused on keeping their balance. They had practiced for weeks ahead with Gerry Dicker, the Program Coordinator who doubled as the KJ (Karaoke Jockey).

Family and friends were in the audience, and we voted for the top three--the winners received Target gift cards, All 8 participants received trophies with their names engraved on them. On a sadder note, two Chaverim members who had passed away, Lisa Pritikin and Lori Ravitz, were remembered by their favorite songs, including David Cassidy’s “I Think I Love You” which I counted among my personal favorites as a pre-teen in 1970.

Then tonight, as part of my work with Bet Tzedek Legal Services, I helped lead a self-advocacy focus group of Chaverim members, asking them about their daily lives, and in what areas they might need additional help. There were a dozen adults with developmental disabilities from age 24 to 66, with a wide range of abilities and diagnoses. Three parents and an adult sibling also participated. What was impressive about this group was the high degree of independence most had achieved, and how their families had helped them get to that goal.  A few families had received high-level support and services from their service coordinators at the state-funded regional centers, but most were left largely on their own.

Some worked part-time and others had volunteer placements, often due to government programs that place caps on how much people can earn if they want to keep their monthly disability checks. There were frustrations with the Access bus system for people with disabilities that doesn’t always show up on time. But there were older adults who were learning how to use a computer, younger women who loved to go to the mall, and young men who had the travel bug.

They were all grown-ups, in every sense of the word.

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