For Middletown seventh-grader with special needs, family support is key for remote learning

Note: This story is part of the second installment of Learning Curve, a yearlong series of stories following six families whose children are attending public schools across New York state during the pandemic. Start from the beginning here.

Jordan Jansen sits at his end of the table, a door and window both covered in sheer white curtains draped behind him. The Middletown 12-year-old wears his bulky black headphones, blocking out the noise from the rest of the house. 

His special education teacher, Cynthia Siper, can tell from the computer screen his parents are nearby. Jordan listens intently to the lesson on astronomy, answering questions when prompted — and correctly, at that. 

"Jordan, what date is the first day of winter?" Mrs. Siper asks. 

"December 22," he answers.

Jordan's eyes widen and a huge grin spreads across his face when he knows he is right. Even when he's muted, his teacher and two teaching assistants can sometimes see him mouth the answer when someone else is asked a question.

With a few mid-year changes, Jordan is set up to do much better with remote learning than he did in the spring. His parents see promise in being able to track his progress by his side.

But his teacher worries that with Jordan out of the classroom for the rest of the year, he might fall behind — and she emphasized it's important to avoid setbacks. 

As COVID-19 cases increased in the downstate area — including spikes in Orange County — Middletown city schools changed course and allowed parents and guardians the option to keep their students home from a hybrid in-person schedule. 

The Jansens jumped at the chance. All four of their students will now stay home for the remainder of the school year: the oldest, Louis Jr., 13, an eighth-grader at Monhagen Middle School; Jordan, a seventh-grader at Twin Towers Middle School; Leighann, 9, a fourth-grader at Presidential Park Elementary School; and London, a second-grader at Maple Hill Elementary School.

They're all learning under one roof with 16-month-old baby Luca, dad, Louis Sr., a landscaper, and stay-at-home mom, Antoinette.

PART 1: 4 remote learners — and a toddler. How one Middletown family is making school work.

At first, 7-year-old London was not having it. But she came around once Mom and Dad explained all the restrictions — no hugs, mandatory masks, social distancing from her friends — that she would have to adapt to in the classroom and, yes, even at recess. 

"OK, I want to stay home," London said. Her biggest factor in the flip? "I want to play."

The decision came much to the dismay of Jordan's teacher, who called this year "the toughest year I've ever had." Just under half of Jordan's classmates will also learn from home for the remainder of the school year. 

As a special education teacher for 33 years and a mother to two grown kids, Siper understands the decision by parents to keep their kids home, but she sees greater value in face-to-face instruction.

"They need to be in school," said Siper, who has taught the special education program Jordan is in for 13 of her 31 years with the district. "For kids like Jordan, I think those kids need more of the one-on-one situation, or more attention from teachers, staff, anybody, than necessarily a parent all the time.

"When you're a parent, it's tough to be a teacher."

Jordan can see three of his classmates in their chairs every day, and his teacher, from the computer. 

"It's cool, it's not weird," he said. 

But he's nervous about not going back to school for the rest of the year. He misses riding the school bus and eating the district-provided lunches. Mostly, though, he misses seeing his teachers and classmates. 

"I just want to go back to school and not have virtual learning," he said. 

Come March, when school moved online at the beginning of the pandemic, Jordan's assignments were given in bulk at the beginning of the week, his parents said. Frantically, Jordan finished them all before Monday was over.

He did it all wrong.

See, if you put everything in front of Jordan — be it schoolwork or dinner — he has to make it disappear. It's one of the behaviors that come with his autism diagnosis. 

When he was a toddler, Jordan's parents noticed he would make repetitive movements, like rocking back and forth or playing with his hands, which is referred to as stimming. They knew something was up when they saw Jordan wasn't progressing with speech and movements like his older brother had just over a year earlier. Soon after, it was confirmed Jordan had autism.

"I always felt like (teachers) treat him, I hate to say this, like a normal seventh-grader, giving him normal seventh-grade work when they shouldn't be," said Jordan's dad, Louis. "He's on a different level."  

Jordan's special education class is composed of three sixth-graders, three seventh-graders and three eighth-graders — a sweet, fun bunch, Siper said. Jordan has been in her class since he started at Twin Towers Middle School last year, and will stay in it through eighth grade.

But as a seventh-grader continuing his schoolwork completely online, his work and his progress seems to seesaw. 

His parents listed his grades, ranging from high 70s to the solid 100s: the lowest, art; the highest, math, his favorite subject.

Antoinette's theory is that with learning from home, she and Louis, as parents, can be more on top of Jordan if they need to be. And, a lot of the times, they do need to be. 

But at least all school work for Jordan and each of the other three students comes in on their district-provided computers. There's less to keep track of and more time to focus on the content. 

"In some ways, it's easier for him, too," Antoinette said. "It's less work." 

With school dominating the day, the family needs to blow off steam.

After six hours of classes — with breaks for breakfast and lunch to feed the kid the family lovingly refers to as "the fiend" — Jordan prefers to play his video game, Just Dance, to shake off the day's virtual classroom monopoly. He's gotten so into it his parents plan to enroll him in dance classes once it's safe to do so. 

Most of the day is dedicated to his studies, but in keeping with the structure that he needs, the rest is up to him to make the best of. 

Often, when they're not doing their assigned chores, the family gathers on a couch and chair facing an oversized TV and windows that peer out onto the street. A corner of the small room is sometimes overflowing with some of Luca's or their dog Sonny's toys.

On this bright October day, The Wiggles plays on the TV as the family of seven collectively dances and sings "Emma's Yellow Bow."

Egging baby Luca on to keep him dancing, the family moves in unison, lifting one arm over their head before raising the other as they follow the dance on the screen. "Bow, bow," they all sing. It's the perfect tool to keep Luca calm when he gets fussy. 

They all know the words. They all know the moves. So much time spent in their little home brings new meaning to family bonding during the pandemic.

Remote learning will surely bring more challenges for Jordan and all the Jansen kids. The family, though, will tackle them the way they do so many things these days: together.

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