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Chapter Seven
The Tape Nobody Would See
ZOE’s STORY
Zoe’s story was unusual from the start.
To begin with, two weeks before her intake appointment, I received an urgent
phone call from her father requesting an immediate meeting with me. He didn't
disclose the nature of his urgency, but stressed it was of the utmost importance.
To accommodate him, we met the following day.
With my social worker present, the content of Zoe’s father’s
urgency spilled out. He seemed akin to a pent-up pressure cooker. There
was something seething about this blonde, fortyish, quite round man. Without
an introduction, Lawrence M. informed us that he and his recent wife Linda,
were appearing in Family Court the following day. He simply had to receive
a letter from our school supporting their case – which was to obtain
legal sanction from the court to prevent Zoe’s biological mother from
ever visiting with her.
To support his demand, he provided the following information: His ex-wife
Marta was mentally ill and had been hospitalized several times. She often
didn't take her medication, which caused her to become depressed and violent
toward him and their two daughters. She abandoned and neglected their children.
On several occasions he was compelled to summon the police to restore order
in their home. Finally he had to take a leave of absence for more than a
year due to the chaos of their lives. He had to become responsible for the
care of the children himself.
Lawrence M. stood up, inhaled deeply, sat down again and continued: Andrea,
his seven year old daughter had emotional problems. She remembered her mother’s
abusive treatment of her, her violent attacking tantrums, and refused to
visit with her. But Zoe, aged three, was most affected. She suffered from
severe emotional and developmental delays resulting from her mother’s
mal treatment. Furthermore, Zoe was noticeably more disturbed following
visits with Marta. He, and his wife Linda, were each committed to protecting
Zoe from further trauma through contact with her, and would do whatever
it takes to protect Zoe from Marta.
While he and Linda were awarded legal custody of the children, the question
of maternal visitation rights was still a matter to be determined by Family
Court – since Zoe’s mother was fighting to hold onto her right
to visit with Zoe. To protect her interests a court lawyer was appointed
to represent Zoe.
As Zoe’s father spoke, I silently wondered about the price this obviously
bitter struggle exacted upon this little girl’s development. Though
I felt responsive to Zoe’s father’s concerns, I nevertheless
had strong reservations about providing the coveted letter.
I made my reservations known to Zoe’s father: For one thing, I had
not as yet seen Zoe to form my own assessment of her needs and situation.
She was not even enrolled in our school, and it was possible the Department
of Education might not approve her attendance – assuming that I would
agree she was a good candidate for our school.
In addition, I was a total outsider to the family’s situation and
knew nothing about it first hand. How could I venture an informed judgment?
I questioned the appropriateness of the school’s involvement for these
reasons – even though I was moved by Zoe’s father’s struggle
to protect his little girl.
Zoe’s father paid little attention to my reservations. He was sure,
persuasive, was insistent. He was certain that Zoe would require Beachbrook’s
services and would attend. As he described Zoe’s volatile, uncontrollable
tantruming rages and her lack of speech, I too, came to feel it was likely.
I finally agreed to provide the letter with one stipulation: The letter
would clearly indicate that our recommendation prohibiting Zoe’s mother
from visitation with her, was entirely based on information provided by
Zoe’s father. With his reluctant agreement, our meeting with Lawrence
M. ended. As a result of it though, my interest in the soon to occur evaluation
process with Zoe and her step-mother was definitely heightened.
Zoe’s Intake
On the scheduled day and time, her very young, pretty step-mother, Linda,
escorted Zoe into my office. While she and I engaged in animated discussion,
Zoe was often the center of my visual attention.
My social worker was again present taking notes as we spoke, occasionally
interjecting a comment or question. Linda corroborated in great detail the
suffering her husband’s child had endured due to the behavior of Zoe's
mother, Marta. She knew this first hand, as she was often called upon to
care for the children, especially when it was necessary to call the police.
She had been a neighbor and was very aware of Zoe’s mother’s
disturbed and destructive behaviors.
I listened as Linda explained that she took Zoe with her everywhere, no
matter what people thought or said about Zoe’s strange withdrawn behaviors.
If they didn’t like it, too bad! Zoe was her priority. She wanted
to help Zoe in every way possible. Linda was very concerned about Zoe’s
extreme, prolonged and unprovoked tantrums. Zoe would frequently become
wildly uncontrollable, screaming, crying, banging her head, hurling herself,
and objects, tearing off her clothing and hair from her head. This could
happen anywhere, anytime, for no reason. And there was no comforting Zoe.
Her screaming rages had to run their course. Also, Zoe did not relate to
adults or children, she rarely said a word. She did not play or communicate
her needs. Mostly she spent long periods of time in her room alone, often
tantruming wildly and throwing things. It was unsafe to take her in the
family car as she could suddenly start screaming and behave in a totally
out of control, thrashing manner. Zoe could not be made to stop her behaviors.
Linda added that she had two older daughters from a previous marriage who
were very protective of Zoe. She expressed her wish that we could help with
Zoe’s raging tantrums. I, in turn, expressed my hope that Linda would
attend Parent Groups so that we could work together to help Zoe. Though
Linda wanted to attend, she doubted she would be able to, due to her other
children’s school schedules. We agreed that the family or Beachbrook
would arrange individual private meetings whenever they seemed advisable.
Throughout our conversation, Linda observed my interest in Zoe. I often
gazed at Zoe in a deliberately friendly way from behind my desk, nodding
to her, saying hi to her, speaking softly to her. I consciously directed
loving energy to Zoe in tender support of her.
Zoe did not tantrum during our lengthy interview. If anything, she seemed
tranquil and watchful. She appeared pleased to be the center of attention.
Linda, observing my interest in Zoe’s behavior said she was very surprised
at how well behaved Zoe was. Ordinarily, Zoe’s fear of new people
and situations would have culminated in a full-blown tantrum long before
this.
Zoe’s startling wide, open, deep beautiful hazel eyes returned my
gaze with frequent intense wide-eyed stares. There was a hint of a smile
hovering about her lips. Though she appeared interested in me, she often
also seemed unrelated, quiet, lost within herself. Yet, she was clearly
tangentially responsive to my gentle overtures. As well, she occasionally
engaged in idiosyncratic dissociative hand flapping and finger movements
(gesturing I’ve observed in children with autism). She was later observed
to toe-walk too.
I outlined our philosophy and the unique aspects of our work, especially
our focus on creating a healing Living/Learning milieu for children and
staff to grow in; a focus that does not separate cognitive learning from
the learning of interactive living in the world skills. I then informed
Linda that Zoe would be receiving an educational, psychological and speech
evaluation. Together she and Zoe left my office to continue the evaluative
process.
Following their departure, my social worker expressed muted doubts regarding
each parent’s motivation toward Zoe. I shrugged off his misgivings.
Zoe was the center of my interest and of my concerns now. I felt impassioned
by the prospect of working with her. Her good fortune had brought her to
Beachbrook. I knew she could benefit from our work, and I was eager to begin.
“Zoe is fragmented and unrelated,” I said. “Her energy
needs to be integrated. How good for her and for us that she’s come
to Beachbrook. We are the perfect school for her.”
When the evaluations were completed, I met with my clinical staff, which
consisted of our school psychologist, speech pathologist, social worker
and education evaluator. Each presented their findings and impressions.
Each stated that Zoe appeared unrelated and fragmented, yet she could be
drawn into related contact.
Our school psychologist said that if she was pressed for a likely diagnosis,
Zoe most closely resembled a child with PDD/Autism (Pervasive Developmental
Disorder) – since her responses to the evaluative process indicated
serious to moderate delays in all areas of development, and she seemed tangentially
related.
The psychological evaluation revealed that at age three, Zoe’s overall
adaptive behavior was low with an age equivalent of one year, six months.
Daily living skills and social skills were one year, eight months and one
year, respectively. Motor skills were moderately low. Zoe was not toilet
trained, and at times, she toe-walked – a characteristic also linked
with autism.
These scores were serious cause for concern. Zoe was not self-aware, nor
was she related to her world and the significant people and objects in it.
For me and my staff, Zoe’s evaluation results were more an indicator
of her distracted fragmented inner state, of her emotional turmoil and confusion,
and the result of (at least to some extent) unmet core nurturing needs and
traumas she suffered with debilitating consequences, rather than a predictor
of fixed innate limitation. For us, the question of her developmental potential
was open and our unanimous bias and intuition was in favor of her growth
potential – a prerequisite for accepting a child into our school.
More evidence to support our optimism was provided by our school psychologist:
At the conclusion of her evaluation of Zoe, she waved and said, “bye
bye Zoe." Zoe responded by saying, “bye bye” too. Zoe then
said to a doll she was holding, “bye-bye dolly, go to sleep.”
When the school psychologist asked Zoe to leave the dolly in her room, Zoe
refused, drawing the doll closer to her.
At this point Linda intervened and took the doll from Zoe. Zoe began to
cry and scream and tried to grab the doll from her step-mother, yelling,
“give me!” Linda expressed great surprise at Zoe’s sudden
spontaneous communicative language. “She doesn’t speak,”
she said.
School Starts For Zoe
Zoe’s parents did not exaggerate the intensity and often frightful
sounding ferocity of Zoe’s tantruming behaviors. In the beginning
weeks and months Zoe entered school each day in the arms of her teacher,
who carried her screaming from the school bus into her classroom. Her cries
sounded like those of a child being tortured, one who feared for her life.
Though her classroom was at the far end of a very long corridor, I often
shuddered as Zoe’s cries pierced my body while I sat working in my
office. Many times I was compelled to interrupt my work to run to see Zoe.
There I’d see Zoe wildly out of control, trying to attack her teacher
by hitting, kicking and trying to pull her hair, and she, quietly, loving,
trying to safely contain Zoe; or surprisingly, I’d see Zoe sitting
very still facing her teacher, staring wide-eyed at her through streaming
tears while releasing paroxysms of pain, rage and grief. Such releases,
in the beginning, could last as long as forty-five minutes.
Zoe’s wrenching cries seemed to rise from the center of her being
and were often more infant-sounding than the cries of a three year old.
Her teacher’s gentle, quiet, receptive presence became a safe, accepting,
mirroring container for Zoe; a soft, affirming, healing cocoon, one that
fit securely, yet was flexible enough to adapt to Zoe’s emerging needs.
While Zoe was seriously unrelated (due to internal fragmentation), her emotional
outbursts involved the expression of her whole person. All parts of her
being were involved. She was IN her pain, IN her torment, IN her grief,
IN her rage. In these expressions there were no signs of fragmentation.
Her whole self participated in the expression and in the release –
which proved to be a synthesizing wholeness promoting experience. The immediate
evidence of this was her more focused present-centered attention to her
teacher, events and activities following such episodes.
From the perspective of our work, Zoe’s expulsion of poisonous indigestible,
emotional/psychological material was nature’s way of providing the
potential for transfusing her with fresh, healing, self-affirming, wholeness-generating
energy. Thus, the very extreme behaviors which understandably aroused her
parents’ concern and helped her gain access to our school, also contained
the generating potential that provided the opportunity for healing intervention
and access to Zoe’s internal life.
Since Zoe engaged in severely disturbed behavior much of her young life,
the reader may wonder why she hadn’t benefited from such expressions
prior to her attendance at Beachbrook.
The answer is simple: An unrelated child’s releasing of distraught
emotion in isolation of a healing intervening presence, cannot by itself
generate integrated wholeness. Rather, such behavior left unattended exacerbates
and further debilitates the child’s precarious condition. What is
needed is the intrusion of a healing presence into what otherwise becomes
a stagnant, fermenting void.
Thus we were not motivated to eliminate Zoe’s tantruming behaviors
through punitive or distracting types of interventions. Nor did we want
to be solicitous and thereby be encouraging of them. We responded with neutral,
caring mirroring, with containing silence, with structuring healing presence
and with acceptance.
We assumed Zoe’s behaviors were her imperative, her authentic core
communications to us about herself and her life. For her behavior to change
meaningfully, her internal perceptions and feelings about herself and the
people in her world had to change meaningfully.
In the beginning, Zoe’s attention span and motivation to play with
materials was of very brief duration. Sitting close to her teacher, she’d
quickly explore pop-up toys, a shape sorter, simple puzzles, and manipulatives.
But her favorite form of play was to care for her special dolly, which was
provided for her use only by her teacher. She enjoyed dressing it and undressing
it and brushing its blonde hair. Though Zoe was non-verbal, she began to
speak spontaneously to her dolly. She’d say: "brushing your hair
baby, putting you to sleep", and she'd sing songs to her dolly, songs
her teacher sang to her.
For several months, Zoe mostly grunted and pointed at desired objects. Whenever
possible her desires were immediately gratified. We wanted to enable Zoe
to discover that we enjoyed gratifying her needs. There were times though
when her teacher was unable to provide satiation for Zoe’s demands.
Zoe could eat without stopping. And she entered into fierce tantrums of
outrage, and doubtless feelings of rejection, when her teacher, of necessity,
was compelled to limit her intake of food. Zoe would scream incensed for
what seemed an endless period of time. Her teacher accepted Zoe’s
infantile rage, saying in quiet moments, “I hear how much you want
me to give you more food. Too much food is not good for you.”
Zoe’s grunting and pointing evolved to echolalia – that is she
repeated what was said to her by others, another frequent feature of autism.
As Zoe became more connected to her teacher and her classroom, desired objects
were used to motivate Zoe to communicate more with words.
Zoe seemed most content sitting on her teacher’s lap, often holding
her dolly and brushing its hair as her teacher brushed her own, with a soft-bristled
brush purchased by her for Zoe. These experiences nurtured Zoe’s wounded
infant-self. At these times, her countenance radiated sweet peacefulness
and pleasurable satisfaction.
One morning, soon after Zoe’s arrival to school, while Zoe’s
teacher was changing her soaked diaper on the high changing table, Zoe noticed
a round bin full of extra children’s clothing on the floor. She became
very agitated and forcefully, repeatedly pointed her fingers at the clothing
while grunting and screaming. Quickly changing her, her teacher mirrored:
“I see Zoe pointing at the children’s clothing. You can see
them as soon as I finish changing you.”
Changed and standing on the bathroom floor, Zoe began to frantically pull
off her own clothing (a behavior Linda had reported at the intake) while
searching through the assortment of clothes collected over the years. Her
screams were urgent commands. Zoe’s teacher provided simple supportive
language to describe the moment’s event. Thus: "This girl needs
to take off her own clothes and wear school clothes, huh? I can help you
change into them."
Zoe chose clothing regardless of size or appropriateness, and following
her teacher’s consultation with me – when it was possible for
Zoe to fit into her newfound treasures, her teacher assisted her to wear
them. When she was unable to fit into clothing, she discovered the meaning
of too small, too big, and just right. She learned to accept more realistic
choices – which, at first, Zoe vehemently protested.
Her teacher mirrored, reasoned and nurtured her self-esteem. She said such
words as; "I see Zoe wants to wear this dress, but look it’s
too small for such a pretty, big girl like you. Look at this nice red shirt,
it’s just the right size for Zoe". (Once I saw Zoe playing with
manipulatives standing close to her seated teacher wearing a snug fitting
ruffled halter over a blue tee shirt and pants, looking peaceful, pleased
with herself, and adorable, I must add!)
In the beginning, Zoe’s need for clothing transformations occurred
throughout her school day, and was accommodated. The changing process itself
seemed to nurture Zoe’s being as the breast a newborn. She accepted
the return of her original clothing at the end of each school day without
any protest. For many months she tantrumed fiercely when she observed her
peers getting ready to leave school, understanding that she too would soon
have to leave. She was often carried to the bus kicking and screaming –
reminiscent of her original behavior in the beginning months when arriving
at school.
Perhaps Zoe’s compulsion to shed ‘old’ clothing for ‘new’
symbolized her attempt at rebirth, at activating innate potentials sparked
by her discovery of promising mothering possibilities in her teacher. This
is supported by her growing attachment and dependency on her teacher –
for Zoe stood by the classroom door crying inconsolably and waiting for
her teacher’s return from break each day. Of course another teacher
was provided to see Zoe through this painful separation from her primary
teacher. Zoe finally internalized the realization that her teacher would
return to her when she left for her break. This process of realization required
two months.
In the beginning, the arrival of the school bus at Zoe’s home may
have caused her to feel she was being sent away, was being abandoned and
unwanted. And that is why she screamed and cried all the way to school.
With the passage of time however, Zoe discovered she was moving toward something
of immense value to her, her teacher and her school experience. Now her
original feelings of rejection and abandonment were probably activated once more
when it was time to leave her teacher to go home.
Through digested vital NOW moments, Zoe came to internalize her teacher’s
acceptance of what became the beginning ritual of each school day; she came
to trust her clothing would be changed whenever she indicated the need,
and so she no longer screamed in anticipation of denial.
In ten months time, Zoe’s need for clothing changes vanished without
a trace of ever having been – and Zoe often entered her classroom
walking or running from the school bus, holding her teacher’s hand
eager to play with classroom materials.
One might say that the sought after frequent changes of clothing, which
included loving physical care from her teacher, symbolized Zoe’s infantile
craving for the nurturing maternal breast; having received the fullness
of this pleasurable sensory, ego enhancing experience whenever she sought
it for a period of ten months, the obsessive need for this infantile yearning
became satiated. This occurred as a result of Zoe’s further internalization
of her teacher as an actual ongoing satisfying maternal presence.
This is my understanding in hindsight. When I said yes to Zoe’s urgent
requirement, I did not know where the journey would lead. I simply consented
to join her on the path of her longing.
The question may still remain. Why did I go along with Zoe’s strange
imperative for clothing changes in the first place? Why did I not try to
distract her from her distraught compulsion, and help her to avoid this
disruptive and disturbing behavior?
Precisely because this was Zoe’s imperative! It arose from deep within
her psyche. Her entire being was mobilized, centered, aroused and alive
to this longing. There was no evidence of inner fragmentation in her expression
of need. Her little person screamed, pleaded to be attended to in this way.
She yearned for it, fought for it, demanded it. How fortunate we were able
to satisfy this hunger! This was also the play that afforded her
great pleasure with her dolly. Only now she was the dolly getting changed
in the form of a living animated little girl. Zoe’s very urgency provided
an opportunity to unify her fragmented functioning. And what better way
to convey our healing/loving intention toward her?
Flowing with, trusting and being in accord with the moment’s truth
or revelation is deeply embedded in Eastern psychology. In this moment,
I deeply trusted the power and force of Zoe’s requirement for this
attentive nurturing. I trusted too that through Zoe’s craving, Mother
Nature was providing an opening for the intake of renewing, healing energy.
I believed this would enable Zoe’s internal fragmentation to further
integrate and to grow toward wholeness.
.
Zoe was with us for two years.
Her developmental process to the end was full of emotional upheaval, highs
of accomplishments and lows of anxiety, panic attacks and tantruming behaviors
– but throughout the course of time, considerably less so than in
the beginning.
Through her teacher’s effort, Zoe developed a deep and beneficial
attachment to her. And Zoe also eagerly sought her turn to be with her therapists
when they entered her classroom. Her speech therapist shared the following
event with me during the final spring of Zoe’s attendance at Beachbrook:
After a ten day school break, Zoe willingly went with her speech therapist
to the therapy room. As they were approaching the kitchen area on the way
to the therapy room, Zoe threw herself onto the floor. She screamed, “I
want a snack. I want water!” Her speech teacher knew she just
had a snack and water. Intuitively, she didn't believe Zoe’s outburst was food
related. She knelt beside Zoe on the floor and gently held her. Zoe did
not attempt to resist, nor did she strike out aggressively, as she sometimes
does. Zoe seemed comforted, and then she cried out: “I miss Mommy!
I miss Daddy! I miss __________” (her teacher), who was absent from
school that first day back. From this disclosure it became clear that Zoe
was not really in need of more food, but rather the more nurturing response
of her speech therapist which enabled Zoe to be able to put into words the
feelings that were truly troubling her. Zoe appeared more centered and focused
for the remainder of her speech therapy session.
Zoe’s play therapist reported a wide range of behaviors she was addressing
too; namely creating safe interpersonal as well as structural boundaries
for the secure exploration of her environment; using doll play to increase
relatedness and verbalization; working to increase eye contact, mirroring
Zoe’s feelings to increase self-awareness, essentially through interactive
play with her therapist. These interactions motivated Zoe to express at
various times: “go back to ______” (teacher), “back to
room,” “I want the doll," “I want to go,” and
when her therapist entered her room, “I go to _______,” (therapist's
name). These statements and others were said during the course of many sessions.
I came to assume some importance to Zoe eventually. For the longest time
she just seemed passively aware of me. For this reason I made no overt offer
to take her to my office. I’d sometimes sit quietly near her. However,
she often heard many of her classmates beseech me to “Take me Joan,
take me!” to my office, and sometimes I did leave with a child. One
day, her own little hand reached out to me and she forcefully said, “I
wanna go with Joan!” That was the beginning of private meetings with
Zoe from time to time, initiated by Zoe or me. But either way, Zoe came
willingly. Something she did not always do. There were times when she refused
to leave her classroom with therapists and had to be worked with in her
classroom. Sometimes after ten minutes with me she’d say, “want
to go back to ______,” (teacher) and back we’d go.
With her gradual emergence into our world came greater relatedness and the
beginning of genuine communicative language as illustrated above. Especially
important was the emerging, yet tentative use of the self-designation “I”.
Though still fragile and psychologically precarious, Zoe was developing
an ego, a self that wants and can assert itself with the expectation of
potential gratification.
Zoe was becoming expressively self-aware, she was becoming an “I”
who had feelings, who could loudly proclaim, “I miss Mommy,”
“I miss Daddy,” “I miss _______,” (teacher).
She requested foods and toys by name and called individuals by name. Zoe
spontaneously sang songs, sang for her class by herself at Group Time –
with most of the words right!, played and talked freely to her dolly.
Zoe had difficulty responding to questions, but occasionally provided one-word
responses. (Responding to questions is often difficult for children who
struggle with unrelatedness and inner fragmentation). During her attendance
at Beachbrook, we worked to integrate Zoe’s inner fragmentation, to
dissipate her emotional turmoil, and to increase her cognitive awareness
of her world.
By the time Zoe left our Program, she was able to match identical objects,
complete simple insert puzzles, place shapes in appropriate openings, follow
simple directions, identify and label body parts, draw a circle, horizontal
and vertical lines, engage in lotto games with others and use the computer
with her teacher’s assistance. She engaged in fantasy play and participated
in many Group Time activities with her peers, including dancing and singing
songs. She rarely walked on her toes (but tended to when she was upset)
and would sometimes urinate seated on the toilet when taken by her teacher.
She was removing her diaper by herself when wet, indicating greater body
and sensory awareness. She was much more related to herself and the people
and objects in her world.
While these achievements were not age appropriate, they were significant.
It’s necessary to recall that Zoe scored an age equivalency of one
and a half when she entered Beachbrook – which means her skills increased
approximately two years in the two years she was with us. This, in our view,
signifies notable growth indicative of promising continued potential.
For the first time in the history of our Therapeutic Program, I must share
what I believe to be a heart-wrenching ending to a promising beginning.
An ending, which does not fulfill its promise to Zoe.
Zoe’s Parents: Foreshadowing Events
Throughout Zoe’s attendance, there was only sporadic contact between
her parents and our school. Contact was mostly initiated when circumstances
necessitated it.
To add clarity, context, depth and color to Zoe’s story, I will recount
outstanding events, which I now believe foreshadowed Zoe’s fate upon
leaving Beachbrook. These situations will help to illuminate the dynamics
of how a terribly wrong decision, in my view, came about.
First Event:
The first alarm was sounded at a teaching team room meeting about two months
into Zoe’s attendance at Beachbrook. The teachers had been reluctant
to admit to themselves the concern they finally felt they must bring to
my attention.
I was told Zoe smelled of urine and her diaper was soaked upon arrival at
school each day; also, that Zoe’s thick blonde hair was falling out
in clumps when brushed with a soft brush and often appeared matted. She
didn’t seem dressed with care. Her clothes had a seedy appearance.
(Many months later, I would be told by the teaching team that they always
knew when Zoe was being taken to see her lawyer at Family Court. Her hair
would be styled and combed, and she was dressed with exceptional care. On
these occasions Zoe seemed to sparkle!)
I was surprised by this revelation. This information did not fit Zoe’s
parents' presentation of themselves as deeply caring of their child –
something I, too, was invested in believing. But the teachers were sadly
insistent, each supporting the other’s observations.
While this problem was unfortunately not new to me, and in other situations
had been far worse, the element that was new here was the discrepancy between
what Zoe’s parents wanted me to believe and what was actually true.
Another oddity, Zoe’s parents’ own dress and self-care appeared
notably pleasing. Usually, in these situations, hygienic problems included
the parents, as well as the child.
In this instance, I decided not to follow my usual course of action, which
was to meet with one (usually the mother), or both parents and the child’s
teacher, my intention being to rectify the situation, which often proved
only moderately helpful.
To question the quality of care Zoe was receiving, however gently, was likely
to anger and threaten Zoe’s parents. Hadn’t they gone to impressive
lengths to convey their ardent commitment to her care? I believed the most
protective action for Zoe was to maintain our silence. I could not risk
a rift that might result in a disruption of Zoe’s school experience,
or even worse, loss of Beachbrook altogether.
Which meant Zoe’s teacher would continue to care for her cleanliness
needs in the ways available. (In a subsequent telephone conversation, Linda
was told about Zoe’s hair loss. She agreed that Zoe pulls her hair
out when she’s tantruming, but said otherwise there was no problem.)
For the reader’s knowledge, even with her hair loss, Zoe had thick,
beautiful blonde hair. Also, Zoe’s appearance began to improve without
our intervention about six months before she left Beachbrook.
Second Event
Linda was asked to come to Beachbrook to sign papers mandated by the Department
of Education for an upcoming Annual Review meeting at the district to evaluate
Zoe’s progress at Beachbrook.
Linda arrived with her twelve year old daughter, and after signing papers
asked if they could visit in Zoe’s classroom – especially since
she had never seen Zoe there. I was pleased by the request, informed the
teachers via intercom phone that they would be visiting Zoe, and asked Linda
and her daughter to see me before they left Beachbrook. I wanted to receive
their impressions.
We met in my office about twenty minutes later. Seated comfortably, Linda
was visibly moved. She shook her head in disbelief as she said she couldn’t
believe what she saw. She brushed a tear from her eye. She said she was
glad her daughter was with her as a witness. Otherwise what she told her
family would never be believed.
They had observed Zoe playing in the kitchen area with another child. She
was playing with pretend food and was feeding her baby doll. When they were
leaving the classroom, Zoe’s teacher said, “bye, Zoe’s
Mama.” Zoe then also said, “bye Mama.” “She called
me Mama,” Linda said, obviously moved, “but of course her teacher
said it first.”
Linda continued: “At home Zoe does nothing. She says nothing. When
she’s not in her room, she follows me wherever I go – even when
I go to the bathroom to make up. She sits on the floor at my feet. Why does
she do that?” “I think she wants to be closer to you,”
I say. “And she still has tantrums..” Linda added. “I
think it would be helpful if you could attend Parent Groups – or consider
private therapy. Your life can’t be easy with all the needs you have
to meet. You deserve support.” Linda said she’d think about
it, but said the schedule of the children made it difficult for her to do
anything else.
The teaching team told me later in the day that Zoe’s response to
seeing Linda and her step-sister in the classroom appeared to be one of
fear. Instead of moving toward them, she moved back and away from them,
her face registering alarm. Of course seeing them in this unusual context,
school instead of home, may have threatened Zoe’s still fragile sense
of reality and therefore provoked a fear response.
Six Weeks Later: Zoe’s First Annual Review meeting
Present at this meeting was the district administrator, Zoe’s step-mother
and Beachbrook’s education evaluator. (An encapsulated version is
presented here.)
The administrator asked Zoe’s step-mother how Zoe was progressing.
She stated that Zoe said nothing and did nothing at home and still had severe
tantrums. She said her biggest concern was that despite receiving speech
therapy at Beachbrook, Zoe had never said one word.
This concerned the administrator greatly. She questioned aloud whether Beachbrook
was the right school for Zoe. Whereupon our education evaluator turned to
Linda and asked if she hadn’t visited Zoe in her classroom six weeks
ago. She said, “Yes.” The evaluator continued, “I was
under the impression that you heard Zoe speak at that time.” Linda
brushed this off by saying, “Oh, she only said ‘bye Mama’
after she heard her teacher say ‘bye Zoe’s Mama,’ first.”
(There wasn’t the memory of a tear as this was said, I’m told!)
Our education evaluator responded by saying, “If a child had never
spoken before and said ‘bye Mama’ even by repeating what the
teacher had said, that would be pretty impressive to me.” The Administrator
agreed, Linda refrained from comment.
Third Event:
This situation was presented to me in a meeting with Zoe’s classroom
teaching team. I was absent the day it occurred. But the teacher reported
the account to me the next day.
Shortly upon her arrival to school at eight thirty a.m., Zoe had severe
diarrhea. One of the classroom teachers immediately called Zoe’s home
to inform her parent of Zoe’s sick condition. She spoke with Linda
to say we were making arrangements to send Zoe home on the school bus. Shortly
thereafter the bus company informed the teacher that a bus would not be
available for two to three hours.
The teacher immediately phoned Linda to inform her of the bus delay and
to request that she drive to school herself to pick Zoe up. When the phone
rang, Zoe’s grandmother answered. She informed the teacher that Linda
had left the house to take her daughter to the doctor. She was asked why
Linda didn't pick up Zoe who was sick and take her to the doctor as well.
She replied, “Why should she do that, when it’s out of the way?”
The teacher then said she was going to call Zoe’s father at work.
“He’s here!” Zoe’s grandmother said, “involved
in work on the house.” “Please ask him to pick Zoe up at school,”
the teacher responded.
The grandmother’s tone of voice became angry. “I don’t
know if he can do that because he’s full of paint. He’s painting
the outside of the house and he’s going to be angry because he has
to stop working.”
Zoe’s grandmother called to Lawrence telling him Zoe’s teacher
wants him to come to school to pick Zoe up because she’s sick. The
grandmother then reported he would, but it would take a long time for him
to get to school. The teacher asked to speak to Lawrence, but the grandmother
refused, saying Zoe’s father would call the school before leaving
home to get Zoe.
As things evolved, Zoe’s father’s call came at eleven a.m.,
just as the school bus arrived, and Zoe went home on the bus.
Fourth Event:
This event occurred during Zoe’s second year at Beachbrook and three
months following the previous one.
A young woman was interviewing for an aide’s position in response
to an ad placed in a local newspaper. I interview two ways: Either I meet
with applicants before they enter classrooms to see how we work, to see
our children, and simultaneously to be observed by my staff, or I see them
after they’ve been in each classroom, depending upon the pressures
of my immediate work schedule.
On this day, I had not as yet met with the interviewing woman. The first
classroom she had been taken to happened to be Zoe’s classroom (she
would have been taken to every classroom), but Zoe was not within sight,
as her diaper was being changed in the bathroom. Zoe was being encouraged
to sit on the toilet. And finally, her hands were being washed.
As her teacher emerged from the bathroom with Zoe, the applicant asked a
teacher standing near her, “Is that Zoe?” The teacher responded,
“Yes. How do you know her?” “I’m her mother,”
she replied. (Zoe, seeing her, showed not the slightest recognition of her.)
The teacher immediately informed Zoe’s mother (whom she could now
see looked like a grown up version of Zoe) that she must leave the classroom
and see me. She ushered the applicant into my office while explaining to
me that she is Zoe’s mother, and then promptly left to return to her
classroom.
Zoe’s mother did indeed look like the mother of Zoe. She was mild
mannered, shy, soft spoken and guarded. I immediately felt sensitive toward
the feelings and emotions that must have brought her to this moment.
“You knew Zoe was attending Beachbrook?” I asked. “Yes,”
she answered, “I heard that in court.” “And you wanted
to see her?” “Yeah.” “You know we don’t hire
relatives of children who attend this school?” “I didn’t
think so. I just thought I’d come and see what happens.” “Well,
I’m glad I met you,” I said, and walked Marta to the door.
I saw no reason to report Marta’s coming to Beachbrook to Zoe’s
parents. She had been in Zoe’s classroom no more than five minutes.
Zoe clearly did not know her. There was no interaction between them. From
my perspective no harm was done, whereas a report from the school might
create needless alarm and harm.
Some weeks passed before I received an angry call from Linda. Her tone of
voice was assaultive. “I understand that Marta was in your school
and she saw Zoe.” “How do you know that?” I asked. “She
told a mutual friend.” “Yes. She was interviewing for a job.”
“Well, didn’t you know it was her? Didn’t she fill out
an application and you saw her name?” “No. We don’t interview
that way.” “And why didn’t you tell us?” “There
was nothing to tell.” “Well, we have a court order and she is
forbidden to see Zoe.” “She was in Zoe’s classroom no
more than five minutes, and no court order was given to me. Without it,
I would have no legal right to keep her from seeing Zoe, though I could
discourage it. In this instance I did not know she was Zoe’s biological
mother until after she was in the classroom for a few minutes. As soon as
the teacher knew, she was brought to my office.” “Well, my husband
is going to be very upset and angry with the school. He’ll probably
keep Zoe home for a few days.” “Zoe needs to be in school, why
would he punish Zoe when he’s angry with me?”
Zoe was kept home from school for the rest of the week as promised. Lawrence
called me the following day. His tone was nasty, angry and accusatory while
telling me about the court order. I restated exactly what happened from
the beginning to end. But it appeared to make no difference. As far as he
and his wife were concerned, I probably now belonged to the enemy camp.
Fifth Event:
Now that spring was approaching in Zoe’s graduating year from Beachbrook,
I had been discussing with the teaching team and therapists what our recommendation
to Zoe’s parents should be for her placement in September.
I strongly believed that Zoe would continue to thrive if she were placed
in a secure, stable, intimate therapeutic environment, one where she could
remain as long as needed, and where she would be personally known over time.
I believed such a school might be the League School.
Toward this end it was necessary to meet with Linda. In April, a meeting
with Linda, our school psychologist, speech therapist, social worker, Zoe’s
teacher and myself was held.
I presented the growth that Zoe had accomplished to Linda; that she was
much more self-aware, related, verbally expressive of her wants, needs and
feelings, was increasingly becoming cognitively aware and imaginative in
play. I stated that we believed Zoe would benefit from the long-term protective
environment of a private therapeutic school such as the League School. I
presented the struggle that may be involved in attaining a private school
for Zoe.
Linda’s response to what I, and others said, was at best, lukewarm.
She acknowledged that Zoe is better behaved in restaurants, is more well
mannered in public and tantrums less, and that she loves to come to school,
but she still maintained that at home she is mute, does nothing and communicates
nothing – even non verbally.
I was amazed by her description of Zoe’s behavior and conveyed this.
“What we are going to do is video tape Zoe in school for a few days.
Then we’ll invite you and Zoe’s father to see how Zoe is in
school."
It was clear from this meeting that a fight for private school by Linda
was highly unlikely. Without strong conviction from her parents, chances
of obtaining a private school placement was severely limited, if not impossible.
Sixth Event:
The children in Zoe’s class were preparing for their graduation celebration
in June (as they were throughout Beachbrook) that included songs and dance
and a party. Zoe was very much an adorable part of the group expression.
Parents and grandparents were invited.
When Zoe’s teacher called Linda to personally invite her and family
members to the festivities, she was informed that Zoe would not be attending
school that day. No explanation was given. Zoe did attend our Summer Program.
Aftermath (following fifth event)
After meeting with Linda in April, I met with Zoe’s classroom teaching
team to discuss the content of our meeting with Linda. Like me, they were
stunned. The April meeting with Linda had taken place about six months following
the annual review. We had anticipated that Zoe’s growth would by now
be surely finding some expression at home.
We speculated on the possible causes for this not being the case, including
the possibility that Zoe was living in a repressive environment where she
was afraid to be herself; that fear may catapult her into a state of regression
and disintegration – assuming that Linda’s picture of her behavior
at home was true.
Or, Zoe may be driven to resort to hiding within herself while practicing
selective mutism in order to protect herself from a threatening home environment.
In other words, Zoe may only feel free to be herself in school.
The consideration of Zoe's selective mutism out of school, and Linda's description
of Zoe's extreme withdrawal out of school, led me to suggest that Zoe’s
teacher take her for lunch at a nearby pizzeria. The purpose was to observe
whether Zoe’s behavior changed in any way once she left Beachbrook.
Her teacher reported that “Zoe was very much herself,” that
“she enjoyed their short hand in hand walk to the pizzeria";
that “she spontaneously named oranges and other fruit they passed
along the way,” and that “she very much enjoyed eating pizza.”
“In fact, her teacher added, “Zoe was on the verge of becoming
upset, when after eating two slices, she would give her no more. This is
exactly how she would behave in the classroom.” This little experiment
suggested that Zoe was quite capable of being herself under supportive and
caring circumstances.
The Video Tape
A video of Zoe was made covering several days in school. It focused on Zoe
interacting, on Zoe speaking, with classmates and participating in Group
activities.
I don’t believe anybody viewing the tape would single her out as anything
but quite fetching and promising.
Outreach
Zoe’s parents were called many times by different staff members over
time to view the videotape of their child. Zoe’s father was called
at work. The parents were gently invited to view the tape individually,
or together, at their convenience. They always agreed to arrange to see
it on the phone, but no appointment to view it was ever made. I refrained
from calling, thinking they might be more responsive to others.
I called Zoe’s Family Court appointed lawyer, whom I had never spoken
to before. I wanted to know if she could legally represent Zoe’s interest
in what was in our view, going to be a wrongful school placement for Zoe.
I briefly explained the history of my concern.
Her lawyer’s first harsh response to me was: "Where were you
when I needed you?” Meaning, why didn’t you call me a long time
ago and tell me about all of this? Then she answered more evenly, “No.
My legal jurisdiction pertains to the family situation only. I have no legal
power in this matter.” I then explained that I believed my first responsibility
to Zoe was to protect her therapeutic experience at Beachbrook – and
that I tried to avoid taking actions that might threaten it with her parents.
Zoe’s lawyer responded, “Her parents treated her biological
mother as if she was a monster, when if anything, she was a mentally disturbed
woman deserving of compassion.”
I phoned Advocates for Children and shared Zoe’s story and fate with
one of their workers. I spoke of the videotape of Zoe. I wanted to know
if Beachbrook could advocate for Zoe through their organization. Her answer:
“No. Only a parent can advocate for their child. No one else.”
I had now exhausted all known possibilities to me.
Since then, I have tried to discover the school Zoe is attending through
personal sources in order to gain knowledge of her current functioning.
So far I’ve been unsuccessful. It’s as if Zoe was swallowed
whole.
Conclusion
And so dear reader, enough of the truth of Zoe’s story has been disclosed
at this time to bring it to conclusion. Beachbrook was unable to secure
a private school for Zoe, nor were we able to actualize a proper placement
for her.
I’ve come to a reluctant, sad, yet open-ended ending. There is the
hope that Zoe will hold onto the cherished gains she, and we together, have
accomplished.
Perhaps a teacher who has vision will again grace Zoe? One, who will be
able to see to a proper placement for her? One, who will be able to deliver
rescue?
Perhaps Zoe’s story, as told by me, will find the light of day –
and that light, illuminate her way..
May it be so..
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