It seemed too good to be true. It happened all too smoothly. Well, pretty smoothly. And sure enough, it exploded last night.
Last April, after putting up with Max's hour and twenty minute bus ride to a school that is 15 minutes away from our home, I succeeded in having a shorter ride written into his IEP. Yes, you can do that; I hadn't known until I ranted about it on the blog Facebook page and other parents mentioned it. I got letters from Max's doctors explaining why long bus rides were not good for him physiologically or psychologically.
The next challenge, of course, was making sure a shorter ride actually happened—per the IEP, Max had to be one of the last kids on the bus in the morning and one of the first ones off. Sure, this was now an Actual Legal Thing, but we all know how that can go. And so, I contacted our transportation department at the end of June to get the ball rolling and make sure everyone was on board. I spoke with them in July again, and then in early August.
This is where things got good. Actually good. After I emailed our district's transportation coordinator and cc'd the principal and other key players a few weeks ago, she emailed right back to say she was coordinating a route with the bus people. Last week, I reached out again. And the coordinator emailed to say that she'd heard from the bus company and Max would be getting picked up about 45 minutes later than he had been, shortening his route to school to about 40 minutes. He'd have the same driver as last year, who'd been perfectly fine. I felt like I'd won the lottery.
A day later, I received a letter from the bus company stating the same. This was nothing short of miraculous, given that the bus company's usual m.o. was to have the driver inform the parent the day before school started when pickup time would be. One year, the driver called at 10:00 p.m. the night before.
I thanked our district's transportation coordinator. I emailed a thank you note to the new director of the bus company. I'd say that I jinxed us except a mess-up seemed inevitable.
My phone rang at 7:15 p.m. last night. It was Max's bus driver letting me know she would be picking up Max at the same time as last year and that the route was the same.
After all that.
Nope, I told her. I had gotten a letter with the correct time. Ah, but no, she said, that route wouldn't work. I asked her if she knew what an IEP was. I explained that Max's bus needs had been written into the IEP and that the bus company had a legal obligation to follow the IEP.
Then I sent an email to the transportation coordinator and cc'd the usual suspects and the new director at the bus company. I noted that even if there was miscommunication, it was troubling because no parent wants to think that staffers at a bus company are not clearly communicating about their child's needs.
A few minutes later, a supervisor in our district emailed to say they would get to the bottom of this. And you know, they will and they have to and I'm sure it will all be OK by Thursday morning, when Max starts school. I think?
But for the bazillionth time I wonder: WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE SO HARD?!
