When Summer Isn't Simple: The Struggle to Find a Meaningful Summer Break for Families

By Lauren Tarzia

For many families, summer is something to look forward to.

For families of children with disabilities, it can be one of the most stressful times of the year.

Months before school ends, we are already searching for camps, programs, and activities. Not just because we want our children to have fun, but because we need them to have meaningful opportunities to learn, grow, socialize, and feel like they belong.

The challenge is that those opportunities can be hard to find.

Programs that truly understand disability are often limited, expensive, or fill quickly. Other programs may advertise themselves as inclusive, but when you look closer, they aren't structured to support children with different learning styles, communication needs, sensory differences or social/emotional supports.

As parents, we spend countless hours researching, emailing, explaining our children, and hoping that maybe this time will be different.

This photo was taken at the beginning of summer after one of those hopes fell apart.

People often praise me for starting Inclusive Together. They see the programs, the events, the partnerships, and the growing community. What they don't always see is that I still carry the same worries and heartbreak that led me to create it in the first place.

I still struggle every single day.

I still carry the heartbreak for my son.

There are moments I have to pull myself up off the ground, remind myself why I started, and keep going.

Because even as I advocate for inclusion, I am still so often on the outside looking in—hoping, praying, and pushing for a world that truly sees him and sees families like ours.

Shortly before this photo was taken, my son had a heartbreaking experience in a local program that was advertised as being for all abilities.

Like many families, we did everything we could to set him up for success. We shared information, communicated openly, and hoped for partnership. My son showed up excited, ready to participate, and ready to belong.

But the program wasn't prepared to support him.

There was no real understanding of autism, sensory needs, or communication differences. There was little flexibility and no meaningful effort to work together to help him succeed.

Eventually, we were told he could no longer participate.

My heart broke for him.

Not because he lost a program.

Because he lost an opportunity to belong.

Because once again, he learned that being welcomed and being included are not always the same thing.

That experience isn't unique to our family.

Families of children with disabilities face versions of this every day.

We are often told that everyone is welcome. But true inclusion requires more than good intentions. It requires preparation. It requires flexibility. It requires training. It requires listening to families and understanding that success may look different from one child to the next.

Inclusion isn't a checkbox.

It isn't a marketing statement.

It isn't simply opening the door and hoping things work out.

Inclusion is a commitment to meet people where they are and build from there.

It's creating environments where children can succeed instead of expecting them to fit into pre-made molds.

This is one of the reasons I started Inclusive Together.

Not because I had all the answers.

Not because our family had everything figured out.

But because I knew what it felt like to sit on the outside looking in.

I knew what it felt like to watch a child desperately want to participate and not have the support needed to make that possible.

And I knew there had to be a better way.

As summer begins, I know many families are still searching for programs, opportunities, and places where their children will be understood.

My hope is that one day inclusion won't be something families have to hope for.

It will be something they can expect.

Because no child should ever have to question whether they belong.