A School For Kids Like Him – Finding Cooper’s Voice

Autism is the norm there. Not the exception.

I feel like it’s taken a hundred years to get to today. That’s how it is with autism though.

It takes time. And waiting. And hoping and praying.

We said goodbye to public school and started something new.

The morning didn’t feel much different.

I woke him up. I dressed him. We giggled about deodorant. I prepared his meds. We chatted about trains and Little Einsteins. I packed his lunch. He negotiated an extra cookie. The ones with the thick frosting.

He put his own shoes on. His coat too. He walked to the car. And buckled his seatbelt. All by himself.

And I talked to him about this new adventure. And I wondered if he understood why. I’m not sure I necessarily do but I did my best to explain.

We listened to the Cars soundtrack. It’s his favorite. And we danced in our seats on the freeway. And I wondered how we got here. Right here. To this very moment.

15 years of trying to fit a square boy into a round world will do that to a mother.

I typically hide my tears. I’m no stranger to that. But I couldn’t today.

And when he told me with his speech device that he’s most excited for new friends the tears fell harder.

We walked in hand in hand. Him confidently. Me praying to God to please let this work.

His team is amazing and they greeted him with smiles.

I apologized for me. And making it weird.

I told them he doesn’t always know how to open his water bottle. And that I packed snacks and extra clothes. And I told them that he can be challenging. And that I love him so much. He screams sometimes. And he’s so worthy.

When I hugged him goodbye he held my face with both hands.

‘I am so proud of you Cooper. You are so brave. Braver than mom.’

His teacher sent me an update minutes later with a picture.

I am so thankful for good people who choose the kids like mine.