The Folding Chair Project: The Sedlar Family

Most state constitutions guarantee an education to our children, but there is no mention of how or by whom; nor who decides the best delivery method.  Some states have more options than others, and choices can include charter, traditional district, homeschool, microschool, education pod, private, or a combination of these.  As families are unique and as life is unpredictable, our options must allow the flexibility for families to navigate life’s challenges.  I never knew how much education choice would mean to me until my child desperately needed it.

The Sedlar Family

We were a very active district family.  I was at the school so much that students thought I worked there – and district employees treated me like family.  And, such as family is by nature, you’re invested for life.  I had raised tens of thousands of dollars for district organizations and attended more School Board meetings than many Directors themselves.  My oldest joined the district in 4th grade, and my youngest would finish district schooling 20 years later; that was the plan.  But that’s not how life unfolded for us, but more pointedly, for Virginia.

Virginia has 5 older sisters.  She was energetic, fearless, quick-witted, and smart.  She started school at full speed and loved it.  In Kindergarten, she had a pretty strict (but kind) teacher and she thrived with the consistency and continuity of her classroom.  In first grade, her teacher was very sweet and resourceful.  Virginia especially loved her.  “Mrs. S” was a certified reading specialist, and Virginia was not only doing extremely well in all areas of school, but she was, in particular, a vociferous reader; advancing in reading levels by leaps and bounds.  She was doing so well, she was on track for gifted programming evaluation at the beginning of 2nd grade.  She enjoyed going to school, eager to see her friends and learn new things every single day.

After about a month in second grade, something changed.  Virginia started dragging her feet in the morning, no longer as eager to go to school as she once was.  I chalked it up to nerves associated with acclimating to a new classroom, a new teacher, or new material.  But after the difficulty escalated, my husband and I met with school officials 6 weeks into the school year, requesting a change in classroom teacher.  This request was outright denied (in a shocking, no-discussion fashion), and school officials suggested a Student Accommodation Plan, to which we agreed, as it appeared to be our own option.  We didn’t even consider options outside of the district. 

The SAP allowed for Virginia to come into school and avoid the chaotic nature of the cafeteria (used as a holding room until the starting bell rang during cold or bad weather) by going into another, teacher-supervised room or her regular 2nd-grade classroom depending on the logistics of the day.  Virginia’s older sister, attending 5th grade in the same building, was able to escort Virginia to the appropriate pre-bell classroom, and would even stay with her until the other children arrived. This seemed to help somewhat in getting her to school on a daily basis, but the increase in emotional needs at home was noticeable – more sleeping in Mom’s bed, nightmares, fear of going to sleep, and stomachaches.  It was becoming more and more obvious to me that the issue was her teacher, but I was hopeful that perhaps something in the dynamic could and would change.

After the Christmas holiday, and feeling the security of family for a prolonged period of time, returning to school was difficult for Virginia, and as such, referral to an Art Therapist (an Art Teacher doubled in this role) was thankfully arranged.  The assessment suggested that Virginia was “very sensitive and empathetic”.  Virginia’s home status did not change, and school mornings were still very difficult, but I was able to get her out the door to attend school – at least for the morning.  It wasn’t unusual for Virginia to call me and need to come home at any point and time in the day, or for me to have to go to school and sit with her for a bit to calm her and cajole her into staying.  Virginia had also taken to bringing a necklace with a picture of her family in it that she could look at throughout the day to be “close” to us.  She desperately needed that life raft, that connection, that tiny bit of calm that she felt her family brought to her to get her through the day.

About a month later, Virginia’s older sister suffered second impact syndrome (a second concussion shortly after a first), and was in a wheelchair and was referred for homebound instruction.  This was a sister with whom Virginia shared a room (when she actually slept in it, which was now rare).  At about the same time, the school became impatient with Virginia and her needs and violated the SAP time and time again.  The district insisted that the plan be changed, and the school pushed for Virginia to move to arriving in her daily, regular classroom every morning (rather than a few per week) prior to the bell to avoid the chaos of the hallways.  I reluctantly agreed to the new routine; but as we attempted this new system, Virginia would refuse to go to the classroom.  I’ll never forget the morning when the principal “corralled” her (as if she were a toddler in daycare) while I walked out the door, being convinced by the school that Virginia was experiencing simple separation anxiety.

After that day, Virginia lost trust in the principal.  But still, I tried to hold onto a “normal” district education for Virginia, and the school allowed me to escort her to her 2nd-grade classroom in the mornings, where she was greeted by her teacher.  Incrementally, Virginia was able to depart from me at the downstairs step landing – a courageous task for her, and we were so proud of her progress, as was she.  But then I was told that I would no longer be permitted in the building at all (despite having all necessary clearances), because it wasn’t something other parents were allowed to do.

The next 3 weeks were a blur – my fears for Virginia, for my role as a parent and how I was going to navigate the increasing difficulties, the feelings of helplessness in a system that required compulsory education and the lack of options, the increasingly hostile behavior of school officials, the days of being in that school office with a crying child, not knowing what to do, and being told that the school couldn’t help because Virginia’s trusted school employees were not available.  How was I to help this child return to a full and productive, typical district education in these circumstances?

I spent weeks jumping from one strategy to another to cajole Virginia to go to school – from hugging and consoling her, to bribing her, to even explaining to her in one of my most exasperated mornings that she had to go to school or else I, myself, would “get in trouble”.  On all of these mornings, she relented and went to school.  But this one morning, stubbornly and fearfully, with tears in her eyes, told me “I just can’t go Mommy.  Please don’t make me go there” and she wouldn’t budge.  The range of emotions on this child’s face was heartbreaking.  She was literally falling to pieces before my eyes.  She had done all that was asked of her for 6 months and my seven-year-old child was just…done.

Finally, I had to seek support from my doctor’s office.  I had to protect my family from the daily stress and harm I felt was being imposed on us, and I had to protect us legally from compulsory attendance violations that I knew were coming without medical backup.  Luckily, my doctor’s office agreed with my assessment and issued accommodations that they felt were necessary for Virginia.  When the doctor’s note was given to the school district, I was told that they were unreasonable. As the district refused to abide by the prescribed action, I knew that there was no way Virginia could return to that school.  Returning to that environment would not have been in her best interests, but once again the school felt that they were the ultimate authority on MY CHILD.

Four years later Virginia still contends with profound after-effects from her experience, but with the 504 plan via her cyber charter school, she is happy and thriving.   Our chosen educational environment allows the safety and security she has come to need.  She’s even started to entertain attending high school in person, looking forward to once again having friends she sees every day, with whom she can go to the local mall or participate in school-related activities, but that’s for another day.  We don’t put much faith into planning too far ahead when it comes to children and life.  Lesson well-learned.

And that’s the point.  Life is challenging and throws curve balls.  For many of us, we don’t know we need education choice until we do; and as such, our children need access to education built for and around them.  The top-down approach does not work, and this inflexible and archaic education system is harming our children. The current education system fails kids every single day – emotionally, physically, psychologically, and academically.  Education choice solves issues that performance metrics cannot validate.

While this story may seem to be a criticism of district education as a whole, it is not.  Rather, it is a demonstration of the fact that the district cannot always serve every child, and most certainly in this case, not my child.  We will never know how different things would have been for Virginia had a simple classroom change taken place as requested.  But what I do know is that my child still contends with the fallout every single day.  Sure, there are sacrifices our family has to make, but I’m lucky to be able to stay home with my child. 

But what about other households with different setups from mine; where both parents need to work, or in a single-parent household; where the need is for Special Education services, or Gifted Education, or psychological, emotional, or physical needs that cannot be accommodated in the traditional district setting?  What if the child doesn’t feel safe – due to bullying, assault, or a simple and basic inability to trust, as in my child’s case? 

Those who don’t support education options might not know the stories, such as Virginia’s, where the need for education options IS immediate and critical.  Education choice families and advocates are NOT anti-district education, but rather believe that parents are the best equipped to make decisions for their children; particularly after an experience such as ours where the traditional education system failed their child.

If a district school serves your family – and there are many, many that do extremely well – I am happy for you and I applaud your district for their dedication and hard work.  But even in the best of circumstances and districts, one uniform system cannot serve all children.  There will always be exceptions.  And, if we are all truly centered on children (like Virginia and so many others) there will always be a need for education choice.

Sharon Sedlar is a mom to 6 girls in Brentwood, PA. After seeing for herself the need for protection and expansion of education choice policy in Pennsylvania, she founded PA Families for Education Choice (PaFEC).

Help us share the stories of parent advocates and their efforts to improve education for students. Email tillie@parents4support.com