Their entire system facilitates success for all students. For example, there is a 30-minute class called "Intervention" for every student (not just for those with IEPs). It's a time and place where all students can get extra help for whatever—recognizing that every student has a need related to something in the educational system.

They also have the Thursday Morning Volunteers (I'm one). The volunteers update bulletin boards, cut things out, make booklets, and more. This help for teachers enables them to devote more time to providing instruction and coming up with creative teaching methods for all children. We're so thrilled with this wonderful school and Zoe's positive experiences!

Now I want to share another experience that illustrates the value of inclusive activities. Against my gut instinct and better judgment, I enrolled Zoe in a soccer league only for kids with disabilities. (It was the only accessible one I could find with an indoor field so Zoe could use her walker.) Each child with a disability is assigned a volunteer from the middle school or high school. The lead person is an occupational therapist (OT). When we attended for the first time, we arrived a little early and overheard some of the instructions to the volunteers, such as, "These kids often..." and "Many of these kids can't...." It was all about limitations, and I guess this was done with good intentions, but...

Zoe was hesitant and she didn't have the really bright affect that's normal for her when she's in inclusive activities. She didn't care for the volunteer that was assigned to her and she kept requesting a different one (pushing the volunteer's hand away and reaching for a different girl who was volunteering). Zoe was surrounded by the student volunteers the entire evening (their participation was part of a class requirement). At the end of the evening, Zoe had not made any new friends. At the same time, I was given the name of a dentist for kids with disabilities and was told that the neurologist Zoe will be seeing is probably not the best choice.

Now, fast forward to this morning's experience: the first Mileage Club activity for this school year. Any child can join this extra-curricular activity. It starts at 7:30 AM, two times a week, and the kids walk around the neighborhood. For various milestones walked, they get charms added to a necklace. There were about 30-40 kids there. Zoe rode her trike instead of using her walker, and I tagged along. Before the kids started out, I reminded Zoe to be careful and not run over anyone. A classmate beside her looked at me and said, "It's okay—I'll be right by her," meaning she would remind Zoe so I didn't need to lecture anymore! When the teacher said "GO!" it was like the flood gates were opened up: kids started screaming and running along the route. Zoe screamed with excitement, too, and quickly pedaled along! She actually left her classmate in the dust and two older students chose to walk by Zoe, reminding her of the route, letting other kids know when Zoe needed to pass, pushing her uphill when it got a little steep, making sure she didn't pick up too much speed on the downhill portions, etc. I panted and puffed trying to keep up and I realized that Zoe didn't need my assistance and didn't care if I was there or not—it was wonderful!

The teacher and other kids commented numerous times about how fast Zoe was on her trike. As I lagged behind, I overheard a conversation between three girls (who looked like 4th-5th graders) talking about how when Zoe tried to talk, she just "made noises and drool came out." They saw me and asked if I was Zoe's mom. I said, "Yes," and gave them a really short explanation about Zoe, and they said, "Oh...." It was an "Oh, now we understand," not a negative "Oh."

Along the course, everyone figured out that Zoe needs an audible signal on her trike to let others know she needs to pass (and the Assistive Technology Specialist at school is looking into this). When the ride was over, the older students told Zoe they'd walk with her next time, the classmate from the beginning of the walk wanted Zoe's phone number so she could come over to play, and I didn't get one medical recommendation! It was such a stark contrast from the segrated soccer activity a few days before! It's like, segregation = focus on limitations and assigned aides; inclusion = focus on abilities and making friends.

One more thing. When Zoe and I attended the Mileage Club orientation, a classmate, Sara, walked alongside Zoe, chatting away. With Zoe not really talking much, she usually gravitates to talkative, assertive kids. A parent volunteer was close by and she smiled at Sara, gave her a thumbs-up sign, and said, "Good job!" It seemed she was praising Sara for "talking to the poor little girl with disabilities." I could have jumped for joy when Sara looked at the woman and said, "What? She's in my class and she's my friend!" And I wanted to look at the woman and say, "So there!" (But I didn't; I just had a big smile inside.)

Thanks, Kathie, for your teachings about the importance of a Real Life for Zoe and all other people with disabilities!

"Sandy"