I really liked the court case study we did in class because I got to play on the both sides of the argument due to the structure of our group. At first I was a family advocate and although I didn't agree with the family's side, I felt I had a lot more to work with on heir side. While there were more policies and arguemeents to be made for the family, I was annoyed that the family seemed to feel entitled to excessive assistance for their son. I wondered why they were 't taking responsibility for their son and instead expecting someone else to foot the bill just because they thought they could get away with it. However, my perspective totally shifted when I played the lawyer for the school board. I realized why I didn't feel Isnside had much to argue. In its purest sense, the family just wanted their son to have the education that every other child in America was privileged to have and the $18,000 needed wasn't for erroneous medical bills but for an aid to give the child continuous care, something that the parents couldn't just do during the school day when they probably had jobs to support their sons other medical bills. I realized that this child didn't have anywhere else to go except for a most likely more expensive facility air to stay at home which would most likely not be the best education considering the family doesn't seem well structured for special education homeschooling. I still think there was more to the discussion in order to find an appropriate solution or at least middle ground. Whether or not the family was overly demanding in real life, I don't know, but they have more of a claim to their case than I thought they did.

It was interesting to do even 20 minutes of a mock Team meeting because I realized that this situation could be very awkward and emotional if the people aren't prepared. As the school psychologist I told what my diagnosis of Esther was. I thought this would be a relief for the family since their possible confusion about their sons problem was labeled and could be treated. I thought they would be happy they would know how to handle their child better and be less frustrated by things she did. However, the social worker felt for the family and talked about how she empathized with them. I didn't think of the emotions that would be involved with a child being labeled as mentally retarded, which is odd because in a normal scenario (where I wasn't wearing the psychologist cap) I normally would. We fumbled in our meeting and I understood why pre-meeting are important, when before I thought of them as excessive. I understood why a relationship and constant interaction with the parents was so necessary to give information in increments instead of bombarding the family every now and then.

I didn't get much reading done for this week, which I have noted on I-Learn, but I have enjoyed the other things we have discussed in class so I could better understand the structure and policies involved in ensuring a good education to those with special needs.

This week I did the wheelchair experience. That was informative. For the first part of it I was in the classroom, which was a lot more fun and carefree. However, soon things got complicated. After class I decided to go into the bathroom to try transferring myself on and off the toilet. Barby opened the door for me on that one. It was difficult to know at what angle to do it but the real problem was doing it without using my feet. When I got out to leave a girl was nice enough to hold the door open for me, but to my embarrassment my wheel got stuck so two other nice girls assisted in pushing and pulling me out of the doorway. One of the girls asked if I needed any more help and I asked where the elevator was. She offered to push me there and I agreed to. I used the door opener to get out and then the real horror ensured. I don't think I realized why people in wheelchairs have gloves, but my giant blister on my hand is a sore testament that downhill wheel-chairing extremely capability of burning off your flesh. I really struggled with going down hill the first time, I struggled to maneuver it, my hands were in a compromising situation and I tried to not go fast. I ran into the grass and got totally stuck but luckily one girl pulled me out, saying she had done it before to. I almost fell back into the grass after she left but I was so emotional about NOT going back into the grass that I put my foot out. I continued down the hill to the Kimball and struggled up the small incline to the doors. One man saw my struggle and pushed me to the door where I hit the wheelchair access button. I went to the financial aid office to set up an appointment for later and then asked the person at the information desk where the scheduling department was at. On my way out I thought I had an opportunity to open the door for myself without assistance but one man saw my struggle and opened the door for me. Nothing could prepare me for uphill, which was the real horror. I think the combination of the hot sun, my weak arms, my heavy backpack and the cautioned off entrance to the Hinckley were all factors to this bad uphill situation, but the main issue is that uphill wheel-chairing is the worst thing ever. Ever. I felt like I was rowing. Making huge rows and only moving forward and inch. As I inched up the hill a man in crutched and a brace was struggling down-hill. I enthusiastically told him we could do this. By the time I got to the mini kiosk of posters right below the Hinckley, I was completely through with rejecting people's polite attempts to push me uphill. I was done with my embarrassing attempts and the horrifying amount of distance I had left. As I calmed myself under the shade of a tree, I accepted a girls offer and she was nice enough to get me to the other entrance. There I was able to go through a door by myself. I rode the elevator up to the Academic Advising center for my appointment. It was awkward to find a place to wait in the waiting area and I had to juggle a trashcan at one point to get to my meeting. The girl I was with laughed about my wheelchair problems with me. She probably sees a lot of wheel-chaired people given her work is right near where people check those out.  After the meeting I got a drink from a drinking fountain, which is more complicated than I thought it would be. It kept running down my face and I felt really juvenile. As I wheeled towards the door I realized how vulnerable I felt in a wheelchair. If someone was coming after me that was it, I hope I have a taser, pepper spray, huge upper-body strength or some serious negotiation skills because if a serial killer was coming for me I was certainly not outrunning them, or anyone else will ill will towards me. I was able to go out the Hinckley doors though the other direction. I wasn't doing that drama of burning my hands off so I got out some paper and used it as a shield between me and the wheelchair. After going to the events office, I once again attempted going uphill but after a while, it wasn't happening, persistence felt completely futile and I accepted a man's offer to rid me of my very slow and awkward wheeling. I had him drop me off at the Kiosk below the Hinckley, and another girl pushed me up the rest of the hill after I struggled and despaired some more. A friend ran into me and pushed me to the Hinckley doors. My weak arms shame me. Everyone was an angel to me, but that's probably out of pity. It's likely that no one wanted to watch my pitiful attempts at wheeling, just like people struggle to watch a baby animal begin it's first awkward steps.