Oliver Says No to Homeschool

Pick me!

"We are supposed to accept children with special needs, but as you can see, our school doesn't have a ramp for your child." -- Anonymous school from today

The school administrator's excuses are getting more ridiculous by the day. Other responses include, 

• "You are just applying now [for January 2016]? Normally our parents register when they are pregnant with their child." 
• "There's just not enough space in Cape Town schools for the children who want to go to school."
•  "Priority will be given to children who have been baptized in the Catholic Church."

These were quotes from the public schools we visited*.

The private schools are very friendly, and will even give me an application. However, each school has told me that they have already made their decisions for next year. Best of luck.

After hearing this from a dozen schools, I am discouraged. Not one person has asked specific questions about Oliver. They see a face with Down syndrome and assume that he needs a ramp to get into the school.

To be fair, he hasn't mastered riding up stairs on his bicycle yet. Perhaps his physical therapist can work on that this week.

This is just one of those rare occasions when Down syndrome kicks me in the gut. Most of life with Oliver is normal. Some days are phenomenal. Then there are those rare days when I pray for his disabilities to disappear, in the Name of Jesus! 

We are praying this week. Oliver's delays shouldn't be deal breakers. We will pay for a private facilitator to help him through the school day. We will continue his speech and occupational therapies. And at home we will work hard to help him close the gap.

We just need a great partner school to take a chance on us. Anyone?

* I can't imagine the situation in low-income parts of town. A psychologist told me Sunday that 38% of the Cape Town population is addicted to meth. But that is a blog post for a different time...

The Next Chapter

Goodbye Gift from Eric's Team at World Vision

"And the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness.”--Sylvia Plath

Wow. If I spend one more minute with my family in confined spaces, I am going to lose it. I almost had a panic attack on the top of the Ferris wheel in Cape Town the other night. Isaac had been eyeing it since our arrival last Sunday, so I made him a deal: figure out how much it would cost for our whole famly to go on it if we had a 20% discount.

So that's how I found myself trapped in a small cabin with everyone. We were told the ride would last 12 minutes--4 times around total. It lasted 30 minutes, because we spent half of the time suspended 40 meters in the air (over 3 stories high), and I think they added several more rotations to make up for the delay. We were begging to get off of the thing by the time we were done.

That Ferris wheel represents my life in so many ways.

Self-Portrait

Last spring Eric found out that his contract in Zambia wouldn't be renewed in January. He was encouraged to pursue some other opportunities as soon as possible, because the region had some budget cuts.

The stress was tremendous. We had our home-leave back to Seattle scheduled for July, and now we were in crisis mode. World Vision offered Eric generous opportunities both in Seattle and in other countries, and we suddenly had big choices. Choices which led to epic arguments. Epic arguments which earned Eric an amazing knick-knack.*

The knick knack: Actual size is 60 cm x 91 cm

Then a good friend offered Eric a job at World Bicycle Relief (WBR), a partner with World Vision. It's all about getting bikes to people so they can get where they need to go: school, the market, the clinic. When you are out in the bush, the nearest clinic can take hours to walk to--which is a bummer if you are critically ill.

So now we are in Cape Town, South Africa starting a new life. So far, so good, except it takes time to find friends and community. Loneliness is the hardest part about being an ex-pat, so saying goodbye to the friends we made during the last four years is awful:

• Our home church "Crazy Church" made up of parents raising kids with disabilities  
• Suzen, our blessed housekeeper and her son Daniel who was Oliver's best friend 
• The insane ex-pats who choose to live in Zambia, because they want the country to flourish.
• Our Zambian friends, from prisoners to organic farmers to artists to government officials and especially Eric's colleagues at World Vision, who welcomed us. I will miss you. Goodbye and thank you for giving us the honor of living in your country. I pray that the electricity comes back soon, my friends.

*All about the Knick Knack: This tradition started in our marriage 13 years ago after a terrible fight. Eric hates trinkets, so I bought him an atrocious one and displayed it on our mantle. This was therapeutic for both of us: the little piece of ugliness reminded us of why we should never, ever fight. Perhaps one day he will learn...