As the first day of school starts locally today, I recently reflected on how  my public-school journey went . As the years progressed, it would eventually get better, but one thing I now realize is that I had two strong parents and many supporters that were always there for me.

It can be hard to imagine that when my mom took me to register for kindergarten at a school that is no longer standing that the teacher talked to me saying “speak Dustin speak.” It would be a surprise that the first day of school that year I would find my own way to the kindergarten classroom. The next few years had their own struggles with gradual fear from struggling teacher relationships to not wanting to be in school, but I toughed it out without help.

In third grade was one of the biggest struggles. I had the most tenured teachers in the school district, and I did not make it past the first nine weeks in their classroom, however I did transfer schools to a in-district emotional support classroom, where I had the support of two teachers over the course of four grades. Those were some of the best years of my educational experience where I had to learn the consequences to my actions the hard way, but this was before I was diagnosed as autistic, so while running my elementary years in the diagnostic acronym soup, I was still figuring out my next chapter.

Junior High School was a challenging time. Amid puberty, our district was undergoing a building project between the two Junior Highs and an elementary school. As such, because of my geographic location, there was uncertainty as to what school I would be in. Once I was there, that first year was one of the hardest of the two hardest years of my public-school career.

Even getting a diagnosis of Asperger’s Syndrome did not help the situation because it was so new and educators and other professionals did not know how to help me. Amid so much going on in my body, a school reconstruction project and so much more, it was hard, but I survived that school year unscathed. The next year was complicated, with a miscommunication of being mainstreamed for the first quarter of the year, a disaster to having more problematic behaviors amid many med changes and so many things, the year did not end well, and I ended my eighth-grade year in the psychiatric hospital. Something that would happen four times over the course of the summer. I even spent my fifteenth birthday there. Something that I will never forget.

When a decision was made at the end of that summer that I needed to be placed in a residential treatment facility, I had to go to that district’s high school. They did not offer emotional support classes, so I went into learning support with the proper accommodations were made. That year went so well, that when I was discharged from the residential facility that my parents advocated for me to finish the last month of the school year there. It was said by my principal that the same accommodations could be held by my home district.

When I returned to my home district the following summer, plans were made in place, and I was placed into learning support classes. While the first year was slightly rocky, I did get through it with little issues despite the September 11^th, 2001, terrorist attacks occurring as close to sixty miles away from home and a host of problems with the school building that year, I went on.

The last two years went by so fast that I was able to get through the school year with little accommodations. I was going through the halls with the other students during the class changes and eating lunch with them in the cafeteria and even taking electives with other students. I was even going to assemblies and participating in many things like a swim team manager, going to prom, Bible club and so much more.

In my Senior year, I participated in work study, which shortened my workday. I volunteered at a local ecumenical ministry in town and worked at a grocery store for the year. While I did have my plans in mind for post-graduation, I even went around town picking up job applications and such, but ended up at the day services that I am at present a month after graduation.

It was a somber day over twenty years ago as I walked into my high school gymnasium one last time and got to move my tassel on my graduation cap from one side to the other and get my diploma. It was something that many in the course of my time in that district did not think that I could do, but I proved to them that I could with the right help and two fierce parents who never gave up on me. It is something that I always remember and take to heart.