Benji's First Day at a Reverse Integration Nursery School

Finding the Perfect Inclusive Nursery for Benji

When we left Philadelphia in 2006, Benji was 18 months old. Upon our arrival in Toronto, I sought a nursery school that could accommodate and stimulate him so he could have social interactions and gain skills like any other child. We specifically moved into a neighborhood where a reverse integration nursery school supported children with diverse skills and needs. It was within walking distance from our home, and I could drop Benji off on my way to work. The nursery school was staffed one-to-one with volunteers to support students who required additional assistance. This seemed like the ideal setting for Benji to socialize with other children, learn from them, and be in an inclusive and stimulating environment.

It started out well, with the teacher seeking consultation with me about Benji's learning needs and our goals for him. We agreed on simple objectives guided by my interactions with occupational therapists: things like developing fine motor skills and learning basic concepts such as colors and shapes. They also sought to implement simple communication tools like a visual schedule.

At that time, we were still fairly new to understanding the extent of Benji's challenges. The volunteers were nice people who seemed to genuinely care and have good intentions. They appeared to understand traditional educational strategies to support children who needed a little extra help.

Every time I picked up Benji, I received glowing reports of a "great day" and mastered skills. However, at home I wasn't able to observe the skills that were being reported. After a period of time, I decided I wanted to see firsthand what Benji was able to do at school, so I requested to observe a morning session. I would stay in the background where Benji wouldn't see me, as I didn't want to distract him.

When I arrived at the school that morning and stood observing from the background, Benji was taken to a quiet space and propped up against the wall, as he was not yet able to walk independently. He was expected to complete a shape-sorting task. I was surprised by this, as I was aware that Benji had severe motor apraxia, a disorder associated with difficulty in motor planning, and would not have expected him to be able to perform this task at the level that was being required. I stood there increasingly agitated as I watched Benji, unable to do anything that was required and not even able to direct his gaze at the task. Yet the volunteer continued to pursue this approach.

Afterward, I was told they would continue on this path until he was able to perform the task and would not introduce any other activities.

I was mortified. It occurred to me that in my trust of these experienced educators, I had failed to do my due diligence to ensure that the staff were truly able to meet Benji's educational needs and be responsive and accommodating based on his unique learning requirements. What I saw instead was a rigid adherence to methodology and an attempt to fit a square peg into a round hole. I immediately withdrew him from the program. It was clearly not able to adapt to his learning needs, and in disregarding the evident failure of their approach, the staff took the position that it was Benji's lack of cooperation that was the barrier. They insisted they would continue on the same path despite its failure.

This was the first experience I had recognizing that Benji would not fit into a program; rather, a program had to adapt and be customized to Benji, recognizing his intrinsic interests and understanding the barriers when creating learning goals and implementation strategies.