Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Three Weeks In
When we concluded Andy's eligibility meeting, we already set a date for returning to eligibility. We had a psychiatrist who was so sure he needed an IEP to address his focus, hyperactivity, and sensory issues that she wrote a letter on the spot and lectured me about how I needed to get him in the system and how had I let him go this long without intervention? We had OT recommendations based on the work done with him for two years, with strategies to help him focus and remain on-task and self-regulate. And we had a first-year teacher who said he was just fine. The school psychologist thought he was just fine. The guidance counselor did not. I'm still working on the letter where we note that a gifted student who scores "normal" is having educational performance issues. But I digress.
We are three weeks in. Andy has been behaving himself at school. No timeouts. Treasure Box every three days, right on schedule. I went to the school picnic, and he sat outside in the midst of the kids and actually ate food without getting up once (though he did cling and insist on being hugged tightly). We have had all good days, sunshine, roses, and fun.
Well, at school, anyway.
Once home, we have to be doing very physical activities, or he starts in on Joey. Since I don't want Joey to become a technicolor display of shades of purple, fading to yellow, I have been getting that physicality channeled as best I can. Trucks, trampolines, running, jumping. Homework is a neat trick. We had one good day. The rest have been like asking him to stick bamboo under his fingernails, with level 5 meltdowns. I cleared my kitchen table to be sure they had space to do work, and put together a "homework kit" so I have everything we might need close to hand (crayons, pencils, glue, paper, sharpener...) because sitting down to do the work is bad enough; if they have to be put off while I find the crayons or the pencil sharpener, I might as well forget it. I have also discovered I sometimes need to have things for Joey to do, as he often doesn't have homework (he does it at school while waiting for the bus). You just never know.
Then we work on winding down, except Tuesday, when we have speech therapy for Joey. Then we have to go see Ms. Leslie. OT is on hold right now. For Joey, social skills groups don't start for another week, and our therapist is now only in Stafford, and we can't just schedule him through her any more, we have to go through the receptionist, and the less said about that the better. Let's just say I know I owe them money, but I have no idea how much, because the bills make no sense whatsoever, and when I ask about it she "sends me the ledger" which makes even less sense, and still doesn't total up what I actually owe. I've never had a medical place who couldn't tell me what I actually owe, or have it in big letters on the bottom of the statement (ie, WRITE THE CHECK FOR THIS MUCH AND WE'RE ALL GOOD.) She keeps telling me the number on this bill is that, but it doesn't match up with the payments I've made, and I now know from experience that I usually actually owe them more than this says I owe, for reasons beyond me. And the bill for Andy from them makes even less sense.
But hey, he's doing fine at school. Everything is peachy. I bet we get to the meeting on the 8th and get told he's just fine, nothing to see here. Then what do I do? Whenever I mention that we are having increased problems at home, they all smile and say things like, "well, kids need to unwind some time!" and "oh, what kid likes homework?"
I was unaware that most kids screamed, hit you, and ran off when you asked them to sit and do a coloring page from school, or trace their name. Nor was I aware that this was "unwinding." Do all kids become violent, aggressive, and hoardy when they get home from school? I mean, the trying to eat me out of house and home I understand. The wanting to watch TV, I get that. Even the pushing the trucks or jumping on the trampoline, fine. Even the whining about and lashing out at the brother. But is the Witching Hour really so universal? Is this normal, and I just suck as a parent?
I am pondering what to do when I get told he is doing just fine and wonderful and get those looks of "what's wrong with you, Lady? You just wanted somethin' fer nuthin' and to abuse the system!" Should I cancel the psychiatrist appointment? I mean, why medicate him or anything like that if he's doing so fine and this is all normal? Should I put him more OT, if he's doing just fine at school and they don't think he needs service? After all, the insurance is being weird about paying (or more precisely, NOT paying). I could put that money toward more speech therapy or OT for Joey, or put Andy into nature classes through the rec center or something like that. They have drawing classes for his age group on Wednesday nights, or painting on Thursdays.
And then there is Joey. Talk about Anxiety Mess. The barking is really causing trouble. I went to his picnic, too. He was with a different teacher than i was told he was eating lunch with, and then this teacher told me he'd be having math and core with her, but I was told he was doing that with someone else. Have they changed him again? In a sea of kids, he was eating alone. If I hadn't been there, it would have been completely alone- even his friend D sat with his back to him. The other kids clearly were unused to Joey, and comments like "he's the strange kid that barks" could be plainly heard (and were repeated that afternoon after school). Being a dog also means he is getting those teeth out and in trouble more. He likes to bite my shirt. He got upset about some toys this morning, and when JoeyAndyDad tried to hug him and help calm him down, Joey bit him so hard there's a bruise (which then progressed into a Level 8). The sibling thing isn't helping. Andy tries to get him to play, and he doesn't want to play, so Andy pokes him or hits him, so he hits or bites Andy, who of course slugs him back... you get the picture. Trying to keep them separated is a real trick, because despite all that, they love each other and want to see each other (its a sibling thing). Getting in the car is an adventure in screaming and the back-and-forth beating on each other. Not good for the nerves of a child who is having school stress, too.
I'm glad we got to the fair. Yes, there is stress in being out of schedule, and the long ride, and all the excitement. We had Andy crying because the barns were dark and the midway was loud (complete with hands clamped over ears). We had Joey nervous about the ride he got on last year and didn't like (which, just to note, was not there this year). But there was also rabbits, ducks, chickens, turkeys, geese (or as Andy insisted, giant ducks), cows, horses, sheep, goats, pigs, pumpkins, gourds, crafts, games, and rides. Oh, and ice cream.
I just don't think its normal to declare a victory when you can distract your kids for almost an hour by having one do a simple scratch-through craft and getting the other one a new book about his latest obsession, before they start in on the screaming, biting, hitting, and more screaming (not squealing or just running around playing loudly- screaming). Is it?
This week, I'm planning on getting out the pirate stuff, and see if I can't get that explosive energy at least channeled.
We are three weeks in. Andy has been behaving himself at school. No timeouts. Treasure Box every three days, right on schedule. I went to the school picnic, and he sat outside in the midst of the kids and actually ate food without getting up once (though he did cling and insist on being hugged tightly). We have had all good days, sunshine, roses, and fun.
Well, at school, anyway.
Once home, we have to be doing very physical activities, or he starts in on Joey. Since I don't want Joey to become a technicolor display of shades of purple, fading to yellow, I have been getting that physicality channeled as best I can. Trucks, trampolines, running, jumping. Homework is a neat trick. We had one good day. The rest have been like asking him to stick bamboo under his fingernails, with level 5 meltdowns. I cleared my kitchen table to be sure they had space to do work, and put together a "homework kit" so I have everything we might need close to hand (crayons, pencils, glue, paper, sharpener...) because sitting down to do the work is bad enough; if they have to be put off while I find the crayons or the pencil sharpener, I might as well forget it. I have also discovered I sometimes need to have things for Joey to do, as he often doesn't have homework (he does it at school while waiting for the bus). You just never know.
Then we work on winding down, except Tuesday, when we have speech therapy for Joey. Then we have to go see Ms. Leslie. OT is on hold right now. For Joey, social skills groups don't start for another week, and our therapist is now only in Stafford, and we can't just schedule him through her any more, we have to go through the receptionist, and the less said about that the better. Let's just say I know I owe them money, but I have no idea how much, because the bills make no sense whatsoever, and when I ask about it she "sends me the ledger" which makes even less sense, and still doesn't total up what I actually owe. I've never had a medical place who couldn't tell me what I actually owe, or have it in big letters on the bottom of the statement (ie, WRITE THE CHECK FOR THIS MUCH AND WE'RE ALL GOOD.) She keeps telling me the number on this bill is that, but it doesn't match up with the payments I've made, and I now know from experience that I usually actually owe them more than this says I owe, for reasons beyond me. And the bill for Andy from them makes even less sense.
But hey, he's doing fine at school. Everything is peachy. I bet we get to the meeting on the 8th and get told he's just fine, nothing to see here. Then what do I do? Whenever I mention that we are having increased problems at home, they all smile and say things like, "well, kids need to unwind some time!" and "oh, what kid likes homework?"
I was unaware that most kids screamed, hit you, and ran off when you asked them to sit and do a coloring page from school, or trace their name. Nor was I aware that this was "unwinding." Do all kids become violent, aggressive, and hoardy when they get home from school? I mean, the trying to eat me out of house and home I understand. The wanting to watch TV, I get that. Even the pushing the trucks or jumping on the trampoline, fine. Even the whining about and lashing out at the brother. But is the Witching Hour really so universal? Is this normal, and I just suck as a parent?
I am pondering what to do when I get told he is doing just fine and wonderful and get those looks of "what's wrong with you, Lady? You just wanted somethin' fer nuthin' and to abuse the system!" Should I cancel the psychiatrist appointment? I mean, why medicate him or anything like that if he's doing so fine and this is all normal? Should I put him more OT, if he's doing just fine at school and they don't think he needs service? After all, the insurance is being weird about paying (or more precisely, NOT paying). I could put that money toward more speech therapy or OT for Joey, or put Andy into nature classes through the rec center or something like that. They have drawing classes for his age group on Wednesday nights, or painting on Thursdays.
And then there is Joey. Talk about Anxiety Mess. The barking is really causing trouble. I went to his picnic, too. He was with a different teacher than i was told he was eating lunch with, and then this teacher told me he'd be having math and core with her, but I was told he was doing that with someone else. Have they changed him again? In a sea of kids, he was eating alone. If I hadn't been there, it would have been completely alone- even his friend D sat with his back to him. The other kids clearly were unused to Joey, and comments like "he's the strange kid that barks" could be plainly heard (and were repeated that afternoon after school). Being a dog also means he is getting those teeth out and in trouble more. He likes to bite my shirt. He got upset about some toys this morning, and when JoeyAndyDad tried to hug him and help calm him down, Joey bit him so hard there's a bruise (which then progressed into a Level 8). The sibling thing isn't helping. Andy tries to get him to play, and he doesn't want to play, so Andy pokes him or hits him, so he hits or bites Andy, who of course slugs him back... you get the picture. Trying to keep them separated is a real trick, because despite all that, they love each other and want to see each other (its a sibling thing). Getting in the car is an adventure in screaming and the back-and-forth beating on each other. Not good for the nerves of a child who is having school stress, too.
I'm glad we got to the fair. Yes, there is stress in being out of schedule, and the long ride, and all the excitement. We had Andy crying because the barns were dark and the midway was loud (complete with hands clamped over ears). We had Joey nervous about the ride he got on last year and didn't like (which, just to note, was not there this year). But there was also rabbits, ducks, chickens, turkeys, geese (or as Andy insisted, giant ducks), cows, horses, sheep, goats, pigs, pumpkins, gourds, crafts, games, and rides. Oh, and ice cream.
I just don't think its normal to declare a victory when you can distract your kids for almost an hour by having one do a simple scratch-through craft and getting the other one a new book about his latest obsession, before they start in on the screaming, biting, hitting, and more screaming (not squealing or just running around playing loudly- screaming). Is it?
This week, I'm planning on getting out the pirate stuff, and see if I can't get that explosive energy at least channeled.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Chikkins
Dear Miss Kitty,
We were thinking of you today. Hope your chikkins are all doing great, as well as all the kittehs, the puppeh, and you. Stay dry. Rock on.
We were thinking of you today. Hope your chikkins are all doing great, as well as all the kittehs, the puppeh, and you. Stay dry. Rock on.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
The Way Things Get Said
Autism Speaks has a new ad campaign out there. Its a video that starts as portraying autism as the Bogeyman, then tries to show families as the Anti-Bogeyman. What a great fundraising message: give us or money, or the kids get squished. Oh, and your marriage and finances, too.
I find that offensive.
I won't sit here and try to say raising an autistic child is all sunshine and roses. Nor is it cheap. Schools do not have the resources- or often the education and training- to provide appropriate supports and therapies for autistic kids. Autistic adults are even more on their own. BUt I have said it before, and I will say it again:
Joey isn't sick. This isn't about curing anything, because there is nothing to cure. Just like we put braces on crooked teeth, but we don't talk about the kid being sick. Or we have kids wear glasses to correct vision, but we don't consider that child sick.
Our culture is quick to medicalize everything. This is partly because of insurance. Medical insurance only wants to pay for things that can be put into terms of disease. Developmental differences are not diseases. That's why medical insurance doesn't want to pay for the therapies that help individuals who have them. They want the schools to pay for that, and they have a point. However, there is such a thing a preventive medicine. Getting my child to speak and move now is going to prevent a lot of health issues- very expensive ones- down the road. Just like straightening teeth or correcting vision.
Joey is who he is. He is not a changeling. No bogeyman swept into my house and stole him away. Joey was born autistic, which means his brain is developing differently than other people's brains. In Joey's case, this development has resulted in a disability. His ability to control his body (and even, we think, for his body to control itself) and communicate has been affected by this difference in brain structure and development, and so we need to give him skills that he needs to thrive in a society that is not designed to accommodate differences. Our society's world isn't made for near-sighted people. We give them glasses.
Joey would not be the wonderful, joyful, lovely human being he is if he was not autistic. He would be someone else. Perhaps that person would have also been wonderful, joyful, and lovely. I don't know. He's not that person. I have trouble wrapping my mind around the idea of Joey being someone he isn't. I have no idea why people even try. "If my kid didn't have autism, he would be this other person..." Huh? That is what Autism Speaks would have you believe, and think about, and give them money to get other people to think about. Try it for yourself. If you weren't you, who would you be? See what I mean?
There are many ways of saying the same thing. Autistic people need supports, need understanding, need community, just like everybody else. Why not focus on autistic people as people, as human beings, and appeal to humanity? Has our culture lost so much touch with the idea that we are all in this together?
Edit: What Susan said. That's what I mean.
I find that offensive.
I won't sit here and try to say raising an autistic child is all sunshine and roses. Nor is it cheap. Schools do not have the resources- or often the education and training- to provide appropriate supports and therapies for autistic kids. Autistic adults are even more on their own. BUt I have said it before, and I will say it again:
Joey isn't sick. This isn't about curing anything, because there is nothing to cure. Just like we put braces on crooked teeth, but we don't talk about the kid being sick. Or we have kids wear glasses to correct vision, but we don't consider that child sick.
Our culture is quick to medicalize everything. This is partly because of insurance. Medical insurance only wants to pay for things that can be put into terms of disease. Developmental differences are not diseases. That's why medical insurance doesn't want to pay for the therapies that help individuals who have them. They want the schools to pay for that, and they have a point. However, there is such a thing a preventive medicine. Getting my child to speak and move now is going to prevent a lot of health issues- very expensive ones- down the road. Just like straightening teeth or correcting vision.
Joey is who he is. He is not a changeling. No bogeyman swept into my house and stole him away. Joey was born autistic, which means his brain is developing differently than other people's brains. In Joey's case, this development has resulted in a disability. His ability to control his body (and even, we think, for his body to control itself) and communicate has been affected by this difference in brain structure and development, and so we need to give him skills that he needs to thrive in a society that is not designed to accommodate differences. Our society's world isn't made for near-sighted people. We give them glasses.
Joey would not be the wonderful, joyful, lovely human being he is if he was not autistic. He would be someone else. Perhaps that person would have also been wonderful, joyful, and lovely. I don't know. He's not that person. I have trouble wrapping my mind around the idea of Joey being someone he isn't. I have no idea why people even try. "If my kid didn't have autism, he would be this other person..." Huh? That is what Autism Speaks would have you believe, and think about, and give them money to get other people to think about. Try it for yourself. If you weren't you, who would you be? See what I mean?
There are many ways of saying the same thing. Autistic people need supports, need understanding, need community, just like everybody else. Why not focus on autistic people as people, as human beings, and appeal to humanity? Has our culture lost so much touch with the idea that we are all in this together?
Edit: What Susan said. That's what I mean.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Wordless Wednesday: Stybirde and Smiley Lolly
Yep, there's Stybirde the cat (prnounced "Sty-bird") and Smiley Happy Guy, now called Smiley Lolly (pronounced "Smolly Lolly").
Monday, September 21, 2009
School is going well?
Now back in the swing, we're having a mixed bag of getting back into the swing. Joey has been doing a lot of barking, his new anxiety behavior. Andy has apparently been holding together nicely for school; he's gotten Treasure Box every third day, like he's supposed to, so he's had no timeouts! Yay!
And then they come home, and the Witching Hour commences. Immediately. Without any baby preliminaries.
See, the trouble with holding your breath all day is that at some point, you need to breathe. In fact, you gasp for air, and try to take deeper breaths than normal to make up for the lost oxygen. He comes home and starts flippery-flopping around like a beached fish. It isn't pretty.
The first few days, I had him play with his trucks out front, but now he refuses to do that; he wants to come inside and arrange his stuffed animals and watch Peep. Well, he has to do homework first. Doing homework after any of these activities was not working, so now, homework first. The Firecracker becomes all sparks and fire. He's ready for some air, and has to hold his breath a little longer. But if I give him air, he doesn't want to hold his breath again even for a minute.
Meanwhile, our words of the week are "idiot" and "stupid." Joey picked these up from Toy Story, and now uses them to amuse himself. Andy has now realized they are powerful words, too. Whenever some one asks them to do something, or tells them something they don't want to hear, that person is stupid. And an idiot. And each other? Stupid idiots. If you reprimand or correct Joey? He says he's a "stupid boy." These words may have to be banned.
I think I may go for a new strategy tomorrow. Boys home, offer pushing of trucks, and if that is a no-go, I'm going to have invented a game that involves the trampoline. A few minutes of bouncing and a light snack, to be followed by homework. And then speech therapy for Joey. Hopefully Wednesday I can follow homework with something fun like making playdough. I'll keep you posted.
And then they come home, and the Witching Hour commences. Immediately. Without any baby preliminaries.
See, the trouble with holding your breath all day is that at some point, you need to breathe. In fact, you gasp for air, and try to take deeper breaths than normal to make up for the lost oxygen. He comes home and starts flippery-flopping around like a beached fish. It isn't pretty.
The first few days, I had him play with his trucks out front, but now he refuses to do that; he wants to come inside and arrange his stuffed animals and watch Peep. Well, he has to do homework first. Doing homework after any of these activities was not working, so now, homework first. The Firecracker becomes all sparks and fire. He's ready for some air, and has to hold his breath a little longer. But if I give him air, he doesn't want to hold his breath again even for a minute.
Meanwhile, our words of the week are "idiot" and "stupid." Joey picked these up from Toy Story, and now uses them to amuse himself. Andy has now realized they are powerful words, too. Whenever some one asks them to do something, or tells them something they don't want to hear, that person is stupid. And an idiot. And each other? Stupid idiots. If you reprimand or correct Joey? He says he's a "stupid boy." These words may have to be banned.
I think I may go for a new strategy tomorrow. Boys home, offer pushing of trucks, and if that is a no-go, I'm going to have invented a game that involves the trampoline. A few minutes of bouncing and a light snack, to be followed by homework. And then speech therapy for Joey. Hopefully Wednesday I can follow homework with something fun like making playdough. I'll keep you posted.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Small Adventures of Supermom
School is here, and Andy has been enjoying himself, earning stamps and even two trips to the Treasure Box. This has resulted in two new Treasures: a frog and Smiley Happy Guy. SHG is a yellow bendy figure with a vague similarity to a Walmart nightmare, only with more character.
Joey also has bee collecting treasures, the most interest he has shown in toys in a long time. Yes, he still has his totems, but these seem to be toys being used to actually play, which is great. He has gotten into small stuffed animals, especially of dogs and cats, and he enjoys naming them. The current favorite is a small brown beanie baby he is calling Stybirde. Yes, thats how he spells it. He likes to stroke Stybirde's whiskers and when he's being a dog, Stybirde gets growled at a lot- because hey, its a cat!
Both of these treasures were missing this morning.
Now, to add to the disaster, I am sick. No fever, but coughing, hacking, sneezing, stuffed sinuses, sweat whenever I move SICK. Everybody else in the house seems to be getting over this; here I sit. Since we have no therapies or anything today. and I don't teach today (well, I have online office hours later), I called a personal National Holiday, with my daily goals being to Eat Ice Cream, Get Rest, Take A Nap (which I have not, as of writing this, accomplished), and.... find two missing toys.
I searched the house, and despaired when neither toys appeared before I started dripping sweat everywhere, which wasn't very long. Then it hit me: such popular toys would surely have made it to the car! So in great glee, i snatched up my keys, and headed out to the car.
Nope.
I made their beds, because they often take such small treasures to bed, only to lose them amid the pillows and wadded sheets.
Nope.
I swept up all the toys hiding under their beds. No sign of the ones we wanted. I checked around my own bedroom, in case they brought them when they crept into bed this morning. Nothing.
It was during my second sweep of the downstairs that I noticed a small treasure chest, tucked discretely in a piece of furniture that is supposed to be a wine bar, but for now just holds a lamp. The chest and the table were the same color, so I was lucky to see it at all. I opened it.
No, they weren't in there. But the frog was. And that meant Andy had played here in the last few days. Sure enough, under the wine bar, I swept my hand, and out came Smiley Happy Guy and Stybirde.
And I so totally rock.
Now for that well-earned nap...
Joey also has bee collecting treasures, the most interest he has shown in toys in a long time. Yes, he still has his totems, but these seem to be toys being used to actually play, which is great. He has gotten into small stuffed animals, especially of dogs and cats, and he enjoys naming them. The current favorite is a small brown beanie baby he is calling Stybirde. Yes, thats how he spells it. He likes to stroke Stybirde's whiskers and when he's being a dog, Stybirde gets growled at a lot- because hey, its a cat!
Both of these treasures were missing this morning.
Now, to add to the disaster, I am sick. No fever, but coughing, hacking, sneezing, stuffed sinuses, sweat whenever I move SICK. Everybody else in the house seems to be getting over this; here I sit. Since we have no therapies or anything today. and I don't teach today (well, I have online office hours later), I called a personal National Holiday, with my daily goals being to Eat Ice Cream, Get Rest, Take A Nap (which I have not, as of writing this, accomplished), and.... find two missing toys.
I searched the house, and despaired when neither toys appeared before I started dripping sweat everywhere, which wasn't very long. Then it hit me: such popular toys would surely have made it to the car! So in great glee, i snatched up my keys, and headed out to the car.
Nope.
I made their beds, because they often take such small treasures to bed, only to lose them amid the pillows and wadded sheets.
Nope.
I swept up all the toys hiding under their beds. No sign of the ones we wanted. I checked around my own bedroom, in case they brought them when they crept into bed this morning. Nothing.
It was during my second sweep of the downstairs that I noticed a small treasure chest, tucked discretely in a piece of furniture that is supposed to be a wine bar, but for now just holds a lamp. The chest and the table were the same color, so I was lucky to see it at all. I opened it.
No, they weren't in there. But the frog was. And that meant Andy had played here in the last few days. Sure enough, under the wine bar, I swept my hand, and out came Smiley Happy Guy and Stybirde.
And I so totally rock.
Now for that well-earned nap...
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
In the midst of life
Yes, I know, no posts lately. I am sorry. I've been working, getting the boys settled, working, spending time with friends (!), hugging boys, trying to figure out the barking thing, trying to explain the barking thing to Joey's teacher, and standing in awe of my two wonderful little boys. And then I started sniffing. And now coughing. This might be a long week.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Week One: Almost Done
We're almost through the first week of school. Andy came home with a prize from the Prize Box. Joey's didn't (he's been barking when anxious [pretending to be Scud from Toy Story] and he barked in the library.) Week one hasn't been too bad. We had some bus issues that are resolving. Andy is enjoying riding his own bus. I ran into the special ed teacher that services the IEP kids in Andy's class, and she thinks he's doing great, following all the rules. that's a good sign. What I had to tell her is oh, by the way, he hasn't eaten his breakfast all week. We talked a lot about how Andy's breakfast is in the frog bag, but by the time he gets to school with all the excitement and distraction, he forgets. I think. I'd packed his favorite strawberry rolls in the bag and told him they are in there and everything, trying to get him to eat it. No go.
We're trying to find a rhythm, and get into the groove, as quick as we can, because the quicker the better.
I've had a shower every day this week since school started. Very weird.
I got to go see a friend this morning and have tea. Tomorrow we're going to write a cookbook together. Tomorrow afternoon, when my mom has an errand of her own, I'm going to call another friend I haven't talked to in a while because everything has been so insane. Its going to be a real event!
And look, I can see the floor in the hallway and the counter in the kitchen! I have had some kind of meal prepared for two of the three school nights! (Though I burned Tuesday's dinner- eep). It's amazing. Incredible.
I miss squishing my boys all day, though. When they hop of their buses, I just want to squeeze and smooch them. And all they want is something to eat and to go play outside. We compromise. They play, and stop in for smooch breaks.
Life is good.
We're trying to find a rhythm, and get into the groove, as quick as we can, because the quicker the better.
I've had a shower every day this week since school started. Very weird.
I got to go see a friend this morning and have tea. Tomorrow we're going to write a cookbook together. Tomorrow afternoon, when my mom has an errand of her own, I'm going to call another friend I haven't talked to in a while because everything has been so insane. Its going to be a real event!
And look, I can see the floor in the hallway and the counter in the kitchen! I have had some kind of meal prepared for two of the three school nights! (Though I burned Tuesday's dinner- eep). It's amazing. Incredible.
I miss squishing my boys all day, though. When they hop of their buses, I just want to squeeze and smooch them. And all they want is something to eat and to go play outside. We compromise. They play, and stop in for smooch breaks.
Life is good.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Black Sheep in Snow
Just as I often think of Joey as, well, Joey, and not as autistic or disabled, I often lose sight of the way people around me think. It comes as a bit of a shock that I think so differently from so many people around me- or more exactly, that so many other people think so alike, and I'm not one of them. Perhaps I insulate myself with others who also think differently, so "different" becomes the norm; and when I find myself out in the world, the general herd is a bit of a culture shock. Perhaps all those people think differently, too, but it just comes out a bit of a herd.
One night, some time ago now, I stumbled into a book club down the street for an evening, and stayed for the conversation. The book they were discussing, which I had not read because I just stumbled in on a totally different errand, had a scene where a man apparently was holding a child as a servant (or perhaps a slave; it was a little fuzzy to me, but definitely forced service) and the child got sick and had to be put into the hospital, and the man was bemoaning how horrible was was to himself, and why did these things always happen to him?
Appalled? Shocked? I was. I mean, seriously, there is a kid in a hospital sick, and you're complaining how horrible life is to you? Get a grip, idiot, right? But this little group went on and on about how honest this portrayal was, how we all felt like that, yadda, yadda, yadda. I thought I was appalled before. I beat a hasty retreat after that conversation. Do so many people really think only of themselves?
I don't think Wuthering Heights is a great love story. Ditto for Titanic. I have yet to see an episode of SpongeBob Squarepants that I thought was appropriate for children. Neither Seinfeld nor Friends did anything for me.
Standing at the bus stop, I find myself once again in the crowd. It is an odd feeling. Yesterday, they arrived with their children in neat little outfits, waiting for the bus in the rain. My kids had new shirts and stuff, but I had them in their raincoats. It was raining. Oh, all those parents had rain gear on; but not the kids. This morning they were chatting about nannies. I had nothing to add to that conversation. I must say they are very nice to Joey, trying to engage him and include him with the other kids. I just find I have very little to say, because I have such a different view of the world than these people are painting.
I sometimes wonder what it must be like to live in a world where the lives of famous people you don't know is so engaging, where what they consider a messy house I find cold, clean, even museum-like; where your shower is number one priority in your morning, not the sound of birds or hugging your children. I have a very hard tim even imagining how such a world works. Perhaps I have gotten used to the chaos. Perhaps to me, life is guided chaos, and we only go around once, so explore all the corners and back niches you can find!
One night, some time ago now, I stumbled into a book club down the street for an evening, and stayed for the conversation. The book they were discussing, which I had not read because I just stumbled in on a totally different errand, had a scene where a man apparently was holding a child as a servant (or perhaps a slave; it was a little fuzzy to me, but definitely forced service) and the child got sick and had to be put into the hospital, and the man was bemoaning how horrible was was to himself, and why did these things always happen to him?
Appalled? Shocked? I was. I mean, seriously, there is a kid in a hospital sick, and you're complaining how horrible life is to you? Get a grip, idiot, right? But this little group went on and on about how honest this portrayal was, how we all felt like that, yadda, yadda, yadda. I thought I was appalled before. I beat a hasty retreat after that conversation. Do so many people really think only of themselves?
I don't think Wuthering Heights is a great love story. Ditto for Titanic. I have yet to see an episode of SpongeBob Squarepants that I thought was appropriate for children. Neither Seinfeld nor Friends did anything for me.
Standing at the bus stop, I find myself once again in the crowd. It is an odd feeling. Yesterday, they arrived with their children in neat little outfits, waiting for the bus in the rain. My kids had new shirts and stuff, but I had them in their raincoats. It was raining. Oh, all those parents had rain gear on; but not the kids. This morning they were chatting about nannies. I had nothing to add to that conversation. I must say they are very nice to Joey, trying to engage him and include him with the other kids. I just find I have very little to say, because I have such a different view of the world than these people are painting.
I sometimes wonder what it must be like to live in a world where the lives of famous people you don't know is so engaging, where what they consider a messy house I find cold, clean, even museum-like; where your shower is number one priority in your morning, not the sound of birds or hugging your children. I have a very hard tim even imagining how such a world works. Perhaps I have gotten used to the chaos. Perhaps to me, life is guided chaos, and we only go around once, so explore all the corners and back niches you can find!
Saturday, September 05, 2009
Water Water
There is no denying it, we've been having adventures all over, ad I have had little time to write about them. But allow me to back up, and first tackle the best of the best: the Beach.
The beach is something of a give-and-take. Joey loves the beach. He loves the water. He loves the waves. He loves the pool. He loves getting on rides and eating ice cream and popcorn and getting lots of attention from Mom and Dad and Grandma. However, he has just the vaguest suggestion of schedule. Everything around him is new, different, unfamiliar. He doing different things, seeing different people, eating different foods. It can be very overwhelming, especially if he decides he doesn't like what he is doing, seeing, or eating.
To mitigate some of these issues, we brought toys, books, linens, and favorite clothes from home. Oh, and movies. Mom got the boys these great personal dvd players (only one of them stopped working almost right away- Fisher Price isn't what it used to be), so we have movies for them to watch, which made life easier on all of us.
There is nothing quite so wonderful as watching Joey in the ocean. He takes such delight in it! So I surprised that, when given the choice, he wanted to be in the pool. Perhaps being able to be deeper in the water, the calm water perhaps, is attractive; but there is still the sea, in constant motion. Joey spends too many of his days in a state of anxiety and stress, trying to learn, trying to do what he needs to do, and struggling to do it. To relax and just be a little boy- what a breath I hope it is for him.
Sheer joy is what you see in boys at the beach. Of course, they each have their own ways and likes. Andy prefers games. Joey prefers rides. Andy likes an evening darting in the surf in search of shells, Joey prefers bobbing in the pool. To each their own, and it is available to them, at their own leisure.
It was, all in all, a beautiful week of boys, and sand, and crabs, and games, and lights, and feeding the gulls. May we all have such moments in our lives, reminders of what we all work so hard for.
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Proving it before the fact
We're back from Eligibility. Special education is a funny thing. You have to provide huge amounts of evidence, and missing a single piece can mean the whole process is derailed, especially if the problem is not academics, but Everything Else.
IDEA is now supposed to cover "functional skills"- a child's ability to participate in a classroom environment with his peers. It is not supposed to be just grade-based. There are many facets to education; you can get all the answers right, and not be able to button your coat or handle the group dynamics, and you should be able to get help to be successful and learn the skills you need to do these things. However, it is far easier to prove an academic problem before hand. It tends to show up on their lovely little standardized tests with nice, neat little numbers to measure.
Having a highly intelligent child complicate things. A child who compensates in a 1:1 setting during testing to come into the "normal" range may actually be able to display real giftedness if given the appropriate accommodations. But how do you prove it? How do you prove a child will have trouble in a classroom until they are actually in one? Do you have to allow a child to fail before providing them with the help they need to succeed?
According to the school, you do.
We had evidence of problems ahead. We had a strongly worded diagnosis and letter from our psychiatrist. We had recommendations and information about Andy in group situations and the problems he had from an occupational therapist who has worked with him for three years. We filled out forms about the behaviors we were seeing at home. It came down to Andy's teacher from last year. You remember, the one who was teaching her first class ever? And her opinion of Andy's behavior based her experience of... one class. In a group of 18 children.
Since her scores all came out "normal", we have no evidence that ADHD is impacting Andy in the classroom. Well, except for the OT's notes. And the psychiatrist's experience.
So we have to let him loose on a teacher and a class with no accommodations for the start of school.
It's not all bad news. His teacher, Mrs. B, was in the meeting, as was Mrs. Huff, so she's well-warned. She also got a look at him (she let us go see her classroom), so she has some idea what we're in for. She does email. We already have the next meeting scheduled, because the guidance counselor looked around the table and made it clear that her prognosis was we would be returning to the table within weeks. The roadblock was exactly where we knew it would be.
I still have a massive headache from the lack of logic and sense here. What is the point of having committees and real people talking about a child, with a child clearly in need of support, if they can't give that child service due to a first-time teacher in a completely different setting can't fill out a form accurately?
IDEA is now supposed to cover "functional skills"- a child's ability to participate in a classroom environment with his peers. It is not supposed to be just grade-based. There are many facets to education; you can get all the answers right, and not be able to button your coat or handle the group dynamics, and you should be able to get help to be successful and learn the skills you need to do these things. However, it is far easier to prove an academic problem before hand. It tends to show up on their lovely little standardized tests with nice, neat little numbers to measure.
Having a highly intelligent child complicate things. A child who compensates in a 1:1 setting during testing to come into the "normal" range may actually be able to display real giftedness if given the appropriate accommodations. But how do you prove it? How do you prove a child will have trouble in a classroom until they are actually in one? Do you have to allow a child to fail before providing them with the help they need to succeed?
According to the school, you do.
We had evidence of problems ahead. We had a strongly worded diagnosis and letter from our psychiatrist. We had recommendations and information about Andy in group situations and the problems he had from an occupational therapist who has worked with him for three years. We filled out forms about the behaviors we were seeing at home. It came down to Andy's teacher from last year. You remember, the one who was teaching her first class ever? And her opinion of Andy's behavior based her experience of... one class. In a group of 18 children.
Since her scores all came out "normal", we have no evidence that ADHD is impacting Andy in the classroom. Well, except for the OT's notes. And the psychiatrist's experience.
So we have to let him loose on a teacher and a class with no accommodations for the start of school.
It's not all bad news. His teacher, Mrs. B, was in the meeting, as was Mrs. Huff, so she's well-warned. She also got a look at him (she let us go see her classroom), so she has some idea what we're in for. She does email. We already have the next meeting scheduled, because the guidance counselor looked around the table and made it clear that her prognosis was we would be returning to the table within weeks. The roadblock was exactly where we knew it would be.
I still have a massive headache from the lack of logic and sense here. What is the point of having committees and real people talking about a child, with a child clearly in need of support, if they can't give that child service due to a first-time teacher in a completely different setting can't fill out a form accurately?
A Tale of Two Classrooms
I have a new comment on my initial post about Alex Barton. You can read the post from ablp3391 (using your AIM tag is apparently a new way of being “anonymous”, as you cannot email the person or find out anything about them) for yourself, and take whatever action or inaction that you feel would best suit the situation. But such extreme ignorance- an ignorance apparently shared by Wendy Portillo and her school district at Port St. Lucie, as they apparently share the attitude of the commenter- cannot go unanswered here, where I work so hard to help people understand autism and the ways my son works hard to include himself in society.
Allow me to present you a less extreme case of a Tale of Two Classrooms.
When Andy started preschool, we had some very serious issues of sensory integration dysfunction, and as we now know, hyperactivity and attention deficit. He lasted about a week in his first preschool. His teachers had nothing good to say about him, and it was so traumatic for him that we regressed I hard-won toilet training.
Then came Classroom One.
We regained our ground and put Andy back in school with Mrs. Sch. At his new preschool. The school worked better for him because there was a lot more movement required, which he needed, but also because of Mrs. Sch. On the first day, she made clear that she just wanted to get an idea of him, before talking to me. On the second day, she pulled me aside and said, “OK. Is there something you want to tell me about Andy?” At that point I filled her in and told her the recommendations we had from the OT.
Mrs. Sch. now knew she had a child with special needs in her classroom. She listened to me. As the teacher, Mrs. Sch. was the adult, I control of her classroom, with the goal of meeting the needs of her students. She took that goal and duty very seriously, and changed her classroom and her routines to accommodate my child, ad in turn benefited all of her children. They were transitioned properly, had a clear schedule and daily routine, and even tape Xs on the floor to show them where to sit. These things, and all the rest of the adjustments she made over the year when I was able to provide more information, were good for everyone. Andy made leaps and bounds of progress not just in academic-based skills, but also in social skills and attention.
This last year, we had Classroom Two.
Andy was placed with a teacher who, at the last minute, had to be replaced, and we had Mrs. B, a first-time preschool teacher. Mrs. B has the makings of a fine preschool teacher, and I have no real complaints, but the marked difference in Andy was clear. The schedule was not as clearly posted for the students. The circle was not marked. The classroom had a lot of distractions on the walls. The noise level was higher. Transitions were often abrupt. When I provided the recommendations from the OT, I saw no difference in the classroom environment. We may have gained academic skills, but the sensory integration and social interaction pieces showed some regression, and certainly no progress.
Mrs. B was also aware that she had a special needs student in her classroom. Instead of listening to the parents and experts who provided advice and support, even if the school did not, she chose to run her classroom without this help. As a result, we had more days when Andy had trouble, both in school and (more often) immediately afterwards. Some of these problems will easily send Andy to the discipline office when he arrives at Kindergarten.
In looking at these two classrooms, we see what can happen to students who are not given appropriate support by their teachers. The accommodations needed to support social skills can be very simple, and simplifying and clarifying schedules, roles, and expectations is not just good for kids with special needs: all children benefit from having clarity. Also, Andy learns at a pace similar to that of his peers. Our biggest problem last year was that Joey did not- he was learning academic skills faster than his peers. And that interaction thing? No, Joey doesn’t interact the same way as other people do. But with a little support from his teachers, he can make and maintain friendships, and is learning the same way you might, on-the-job.
So, ablp3391, yes, I do find Wendy Portillo responsible for supporting the students in her classroom. If she was finding it difficult, sending him to the principals office was not an appropriate strategy. Listening to parents and doing some research- there are lots of resources out there now for how to teach autistic students- would have been far more appropriate, far more constructive, and far more proactive. Besides, that is part of the job of being a teacher. I know. I am one.
Allow me to present you a less extreme case of a Tale of Two Classrooms.
When Andy started preschool, we had some very serious issues of sensory integration dysfunction, and as we now know, hyperactivity and attention deficit. He lasted about a week in his first preschool. His teachers had nothing good to say about him, and it was so traumatic for him that we regressed I hard-won toilet training.
Then came Classroom One.
We regained our ground and put Andy back in school with Mrs. Sch. At his new preschool. The school worked better for him because there was a lot more movement required, which he needed, but also because of Mrs. Sch. On the first day, she made clear that she just wanted to get an idea of him, before talking to me. On the second day, she pulled me aside and said, “OK. Is there something you want to tell me about Andy?” At that point I filled her in and told her the recommendations we had from the OT.
Mrs. Sch. now knew she had a child with special needs in her classroom. She listened to me. As the teacher, Mrs. Sch. was the adult, I control of her classroom, with the goal of meeting the needs of her students. She took that goal and duty very seriously, and changed her classroom and her routines to accommodate my child, ad in turn benefited all of her children. They were transitioned properly, had a clear schedule and daily routine, and even tape Xs on the floor to show them where to sit. These things, and all the rest of the adjustments she made over the year when I was able to provide more information, were good for everyone. Andy made leaps and bounds of progress not just in academic-based skills, but also in social skills and attention.
This last year, we had Classroom Two.
Andy was placed with a teacher who, at the last minute, had to be replaced, and we had Mrs. B, a first-time preschool teacher. Mrs. B has the makings of a fine preschool teacher, and I have no real complaints, but the marked difference in Andy was clear. The schedule was not as clearly posted for the students. The circle was not marked. The classroom had a lot of distractions on the walls. The noise level was higher. Transitions were often abrupt. When I provided the recommendations from the OT, I saw no difference in the classroom environment. We may have gained academic skills, but the sensory integration and social interaction pieces showed some regression, and certainly no progress.
Mrs. B was also aware that she had a special needs student in her classroom. Instead of listening to the parents and experts who provided advice and support, even if the school did not, she chose to run her classroom without this help. As a result, we had more days when Andy had trouble, both in school and (more often) immediately afterwards. Some of these problems will easily send Andy to the discipline office when he arrives at Kindergarten.
In looking at these two classrooms, we see what can happen to students who are not given appropriate support by their teachers. The accommodations needed to support social skills can be very simple, and simplifying and clarifying schedules, roles, and expectations is not just good for kids with special needs: all children benefit from having clarity. Also, Andy learns at a pace similar to that of his peers. Our biggest problem last year was that Joey did not- he was learning academic skills faster than his peers. And that interaction thing? No, Joey doesn’t interact the same way as other people do. But with a little support from his teachers, he can make and maintain friendships, and is learning the same way you might, on-the-job.
So, ablp3391, yes, I do find Wendy Portillo responsible for supporting the students in her classroom. If she was finding it difficult, sending him to the principals office was not an appropriate strategy. Listening to parents and doing some research- there are lots of resources out there now for how to teach autistic students- would have been far more appropriate, far more constructive, and far more proactive. Besides, that is part of the job of being a teacher. I know. I am one.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
We're back
I'll get some posts up as soon as I can. In the coming attractions:
We go to the Beach.
We have a really rockin' and gorgeous time.
The car dies.
We make it home anyway, because people in Salisbury totally rock.
But right now, I have to get ready to teach in the morning. See you guys later!
Saturday, August 22, 2009
To the Beach!
Heads up, folks, we are headed to the beach for a whole week! We're very excited, we're looking forward to boys relaxing in the surf (especially Joey- he doesn't get much "time off"), and I may even read a book or something. But I'm not going to guarantee it.
So if there aren't too many posts this week, that's why. And if there are lots of pictures of boys and sand, that's why. All hands on deck- we're going to the beach!
So if there aren't too many posts this week, that's why. And if there are lots of pictures of boys and sand, that's why. All hands on deck- we're going to the beach!
Friday, August 21, 2009
Goodbye to an old comfort zone
There are three Walmarts in our area. A fourth is in the works.
Walmart is one of those catch-22 things. when it comes to your area, the whole flavor of the place changes. Suddenly you find yourself in Anywhere, USA, and its as if everything implodes and all you are left with is Anywhere, USA, for miles and miles and miles round. It is hard to compete with a place that can sell anything you have in your shop for 10% less than you can buy it wholesale. Only they don't. They just undercut your retail price enough to take your customers, while raking in all that extra dough.
At the same time, when you need a can opener, and you can get the same can opener at the local hardware store for $15, or go to Walmart and buy that same can opener for $10, its hard to argue with that, especially these days. It's easier to justify going to the local hardware store if they are selling that can opener for $11, but $15? And in this economic climate?
Walmart can be evil from some points of view, salvation from others, and I'm not here to get into that debate. I have a habit of going to Walmart not to buy things, but simply to wander around someplace that is large, relatively quiet, and full of stuff to look at. I used to develop a lot of film there, now I print some digitals off, maybe browse what's on clearance. Sometimes I have a list of things that its best to get at Walmart than any of the other places around, which are all big-box chains, anyway, and Walmart's a lot cheaper than Lowe's for a lot of things.
I digress.
I shop at a Walmart that is not the closest Walmart to my house. There is one huge, honking reason for this: It is not a Super-Walmart.
Super-Walmarts are so huge, so overwhelming, and so warehouse-ish that there is no pleasure in shopping in one. Even for a completely utilitarian visit, the hugeness of the space is such that trying to find the thing wanted is a pain in the patookas. And to make it worse, they move stuff around, so where it was last month, it may not be there now. The signage sucks. Heaven forbid I have the guys with me, and have to drag them across the store, because the thing that was just inside the lawn and garden door last week is now all the way over in Grocery. Oh. My. God.
No, no, I had this nice little Walmart, just a bit further than the Super-Hellmart, and in the other direction (putting it in a neighborhood that is a good bit safer after dark). I loved my little Walmart. I could wander into the lawn and garden area, and browse the flowers or the holiday wares, maybe get some cat pan liners, pick up some pictures, Meander through the craft section, then wander back through the hardware and toys and home. It was a lovely little circuit, not exhausting, familiar, unchanging. If something moved, it moved predictably, because I knew the aisles that were "seasonal" and the aisles designated as "clearance" and nothing else wandered. If I wanted something, I could go in, get what I wanted, pick up a few other things that were convenient, and be out in 15 minutes, cheerful and happy to give them my money, with thoughts of giving them my money again, no problem.
Note the past tense.
Some schmoo somewhere in the corporate higher-ups of Walmart made the disastrous decision to expand my nice, comfortable Walmart into a Hellcenter. The renovations are underway now. My store is a mess. I can't find anything. They changed the entire location of the entrance and exit, completely disorienting me when I go into the store. And my favorite lawn and garden center? Demolished. DE-MOL-ISHED. Gone.
Some poor cashier, when I expressed my distress after having spent twenty minutes in search of an item that I preferred to purchase there, started telling me how wonderful it would be, because the groceries were so much cheaper, it would be fabulous. I didn't bother to tell her that the Super Hellmart with the groceries was closer to me already. If I wanted Hellmart groceries, I could easily go to the closer store. In fact, it won't make much sense for me to go to my little Walmart anymore, because its gone. I may as well save some gas and just go to the closer store. Except that I hate that store. Its ugly. Its dirty. The people who frequent it are rough. People get mugged there a lot. And on top of that, I've priced it, and the Wegman's is beating them up one side and down the other on grocery prices right now, except for slowcooker liners (the item I spent 20 minutes finding) and cat box liners (hence me picking them up whenever I make a circuit). Everything else I buy? Nobody is touching Wegman's right now.
So the end result is my once-little Walmart is going to lose a customer. I'm sure no one cares that one person is not going to go there anymore. I'm sure so many people in that area will be very happy, as there isn't a nice supermarket on that side of town right now, so folks in those little subdivisions will fill the void I leave. But it is very, very sad to be forced from a place that was so quiet, and calming, and comfortable.
But I bet I save a lot of money, since I won't be wandering about the Walmart.
Walmart is one of those catch-22 things. when it comes to your area, the whole flavor of the place changes. Suddenly you find yourself in Anywhere, USA, and its as if everything implodes and all you are left with is Anywhere, USA, for miles and miles and miles round. It is hard to compete with a place that can sell anything you have in your shop for 10% less than you can buy it wholesale. Only they don't. They just undercut your retail price enough to take your customers, while raking in all that extra dough.
At the same time, when you need a can opener, and you can get the same can opener at the local hardware store for $15, or go to Walmart and buy that same can opener for $10, its hard to argue with that, especially these days. It's easier to justify going to the local hardware store if they are selling that can opener for $11, but $15? And in this economic climate?
Walmart can be evil from some points of view, salvation from others, and I'm not here to get into that debate. I have a habit of going to Walmart not to buy things, but simply to wander around someplace that is large, relatively quiet, and full of stuff to look at. I used to develop a lot of film there, now I print some digitals off, maybe browse what's on clearance. Sometimes I have a list of things that its best to get at Walmart than any of the other places around, which are all big-box chains, anyway, and Walmart's a lot cheaper than Lowe's for a lot of things.
I digress.
I shop at a Walmart that is not the closest Walmart to my house. There is one huge, honking reason for this: It is not a Super-Walmart.
Super-Walmarts are so huge, so overwhelming, and so warehouse-ish that there is no pleasure in shopping in one. Even for a completely utilitarian visit, the hugeness of the space is such that trying to find the thing wanted is a pain in the patookas. And to make it worse, they move stuff around, so where it was last month, it may not be there now. The signage sucks. Heaven forbid I have the guys with me, and have to drag them across the store, because the thing that was just inside the lawn and garden door last week is now all the way over in Grocery. Oh. My. God.
No, no, I had this nice little Walmart, just a bit further than the Super-Hellmart, and in the other direction (putting it in a neighborhood that is a good bit safer after dark). I loved my little Walmart. I could wander into the lawn and garden area, and browse the flowers or the holiday wares, maybe get some cat pan liners, pick up some pictures, Meander through the craft section, then wander back through the hardware and toys and home. It was a lovely little circuit, not exhausting, familiar, unchanging. If something moved, it moved predictably, because I knew the aisles that were "seasonal" and the aisles designated as "clearance" and nothing else wandered. If I wanted something, I could go in, get what I wanted, pick up a few other things that were convenient, and be out in 15 minutes, cheerful and happy to give them my money, with thoughts of giving them my money again, no problem.
Note the past tense.
Some schmoo somewhere in the corporate higher-ups of Walmart made the disastrous decision to expand my nice, comfortable Walmart into a Hellcenter. The renovations are underway now. My store is a mess. I can't find anything. They changed the entire location of the entrance and exit, completely disorienting me when I go into the store. And my favorite lawn and garden center? Demolished. DE-MOL-ISHED. Gone.
Some poor cashier, when I expressed my distress after having spent twenty minutes in search of an item that I preferred to purchase there, started telling me how wonderful it would be, because the groceries were so much cheaper, it would be fabulous. I didn't bother to tell her that the Super Hellmart with the groceries was closer to me already. If I wanted Hellmart groceries, I could easily go to the closer store. In fact, it won't make much sense for me to go to my little Walmart anymore, because its gone. I may as well save some gas and just go to the closer store. Except that I hate that store. Its ugly. Its dirty. The people who frequent it are rough. People get mugged there a lot. And on top of that, I've priced it, and the Wegman's is beating them up one side and down the other on grocery prices right now, except for slowcooker liners (the item I spent 20 minutes finding) and cat box liners (hence me picking them up whenever I make a circuit). Everything else I buy? Nobody is touching Wegman's right now.
So the end result is my once-little Walmart is going to lose a customer. I'm sure no one cares that one person is not going to go there anymore. I'm sure so many people in that area will be very happy, as there isn't a nice supermarket on that side of town right now, so folks in those little subdivisions will fill the void I leave. But it is very, very sad to be forced from a place that was so quiet, and calming, and comfortable.
But I bet I save a lot of money, since I won't be wandering about the Walmart.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
As we suspected
The guidance counselor who tested Andy this morning said he totally rocks. Well, actually they said, "There are definitely some skills there..." which we know in guidance-speak means "totally rocks." We knew this wasn't a "can do it" issue, but a "will do it" issue.
Next: the BASC-2 Scales.
Stay tuned!
Next: the BASC-2 Scales.
Stay tuned!
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Mama Bear on the Prowl
I am just not getting the vibes about Andy's eligibility process that I want to be getting. I feel like no one is seeing the behaviors we are concerned about. They keep insisting on testing him the morning, when he is at his brilliant best, instead of in the afternoon when he is All. Over. The. Place. And today I got smacked with, "well, kids act differently at school that at home..." No kidding! But I just spent yesterday morning explaining that when I pick up the child at noon, he is NON-FUNCTIONAL for at least twenty minutes- you cannot speak or make any noise in the car, or he completely melts down. What is he going to do after lunch in a couple of weeks? So they want something from his teacher from last year, to prove this stuff effects him at school. The teacher I've been telling them would regularly answer the question, "How is he?" with "I don't know" because she had another kid in there that was not getting OT and stuff and needed a lot more attention. To her credit, she did go in to school to fill out the last form I had sent over. And the clear statement: without this new form, he doesn't qualify for service in the eyes of the school psychologist.
What does this tell me? I have provided them with letters from a psychiatrist and his occupational therapist, both stating that this child needs support (and the OT even gave recommendation for what support would be helpful.) And they mean to the school exactly Diddly Over Squat. Somehow, this looks really familiar to me. Oh, yeah, they like to ignore my private professionals. After all, they're school folks. Until we can prove that a regular environment is inappropriate, it's appropriate.
Um... huh?
So, like, you can put a child into an inappropriate placement until it is proven inappropriate?
Well, until you are actually in the system under IDEA, the answer is apparently, "yes indeedy!"
So what do you do? Make the school deal with him for a couple of months and see if you don't end up right back at the eligibility table? Because we are very probably looking at one of the school folks fighting us, and we know what happens when school folks fight you at eligibility. Remember, consensus must be reached. I have a bad feeling that I am going to be having a long talk with a teacher who has minimal special ed training before school starts.
What does this tell me? I have provided them with letters from a psychiatrist and his occupational therapist, both stating that this child needs support (and the OT even gave recommendation for what support would be helpful.) And they mean to the school exactly Diddly Over Squat. Somehow, this looks really familiar to me. Oh, yeah, they like to ignore my private professionals. After all, they're school folks. Until we can prove that a regular environment is inappropriate, it's appropriate.
Um... huh?
So, like, you can put a child into an inappropriate placement until it is proven inappropriate?
Well, until you are actually in the system under IDEA, the answer is apparently, "yes indeedy!"
So what do you do? Make the school deal with him for a couple of months and see if you don't end up right back at the eligibility table? Because we are very probably looking at one of the school folks fighting us, and we know what happens when school folks fight you at eligibility. Remember, consensus must be reached. I have a bad feeling that I am going to be having a long talk with a teacher who has minimal special ed training before school starts.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Round Three
Stay tuned for more members of the Choir Invisible. As soon as we get the nerve up to take care of it.
Summer Fun
With summer well underway, we decided to spend our free Friday at Colonial Beach. Fun!
The boys love it, and when its not a weekend, its beautifully quiet.
Summer swimming! Woo-hoo!
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Death of the Snake
Just to let you guys know, the snake is pining for the fjords. The snake is no more. He has ceased to be. He has expired, and gone to meet his Maker. He's a stiff. Bereft of life, he rests in peace. His metabolic processes are now history. He's off the twig, he's kicked the bucket, he's shuffled off his mortal coil, run down the curtain, and joined the Choir Invisible.
He's an ex-snake.
He's an ex-snake.
Friday, August 14, 2009
The Cult of the Label
When I realized we were going to have a clear diagnosis for Andy, there were feelings I was expecting. Relief. Understanding. Anger. Even confusion. But I was not expecting to feel like a Diagnosis Newbie all over again. Having to start from scratch, digging up research, trying to track down solid sources and information, trying to understand what this new label was saying about my child, and what it was telling me he needs. Perhaps I am not a complete newbie, though; I certainly know there will be pitfalls and woo out there, and the first step to avoiding a trap is knowing of its existence.
There is the extra hurdle in ADHD of most the public thinking the label itself is woo. Well, that's just dandy, ain't it? Even among special needs parents, most seem to scoff at the ADHD label. Autism awareness is currently semi-fashionable, and when you say your child is autistic, it is becoming less and less common that you have to defend the diagnosis. With ADHD, it is fashionable to respond with comments such as, "Well... you know, I think so many kids are over-diagnosed these days..." or "What do you expect? he's a boy!" or "Well, most kids can't sit still for five minutes."
You think autism is an "invisible disability"? Try ADHD.
Most of the time, Andy comes across as an energetic, vivacious, happy little guy. Then you learn he's very short-tempered. But is it a disability? In most situations in public, does a child need the skills that ADHD kids lack? The problem is when he needs to be to sit, focus, and socialize in semi-closed but not adequately structured and very noisy settings- say, a noisy cafeteria. A bus. A classroom. Have you been in a "normal" elementary school classroom lately? If I was five or six, I'd have trouble with the distraction and explosion of sensory input, too. It's like the whole room vibrates with color, imagery, motion. Wow. How is Andy going to be able to sit and listen to a story with so much stuff to look at in there? Where does one draw the line between "distractable", "distracted", and "ADD"? Where is the breakpoint between "energetic" and "hyperactive"?
Because all of these labels are a matter of degree. Even autism. "Spectrum" means you can be there and not have it getting in your way (and hence not be "disabled")- it is only when it causes trouble that you need a label. Its a fine line between ability and disability.
A generation or two before my own, Andy's energy and vibrance would have probably been an asset. A kid on a farm who gets up early and can go go go just needs a little channeling and guidance, and few prompts to get them into the routine of farm living. My family grew tobacco back in the day (as well as vegetables for the DC markets). You have to get up and feed the horses every morning, or they get hungry. You have to care for the fields, or you go hungry. There was structure and expectations and a need for energy and wiry strength and quick intelligence. Andy would have blended in and nobody given him a second thought. Perhaps his room would be messy, and his inability to focus been mistaken for a little laziness, but the energy would have probably made up for it. Heck, my house is a disaster and I'm not disabled.
However, Andy is not growing up on a farm forty years ago. He has to be able to go to school and participate in circle time, walk in a line, eat with his friends, play in a gym. He has to be able to organize his belongings, get to his classroom, and complete his assignments. Listening to a story means you have to be able to sit still and focus on the teacher for fifteen minutes. These are now skills to survive in society. These are the kinds of skills ADHD kids lack. Impulsiveness is not considered a virtue, and is considered a discipline problem rather than a neurological problem (facts be damned).
When you explain to someone that your child has autism, you get looks. Pity is a weird thing, especially when you don't need it. When you explain to someone your child has ADHD, its a different look. Something akin to "ah... you're one of those nutters. Go take a parenting class." Yes, they see you as part of the Great Medicalization Cult.
Unfortunately, getting services without a diagnosis is like trying to get a cat to fetch a stick.
There is the extra hurdle in ADHD of most the public thinking the label itself is woo. Well, that's just dandy, ain't it? Even among special needs parents, most seem to scoff at the ADHD label. Autism awareness is currently semi-fashionable, and when you say your child is autistic, it is becoming less and less common that you have to defend the diagnosis. With ADHD, it is fashionable to respond with comments such as, "Well... you know, I think so many kids are over-diagnosed these days..." or "What do you expect? he's a boy!" or "Well, most kids can't sit still for five minutes."
You think autism is an "invisible disability"? Try ADHD.
Most of the time, Andy comes across as an energetic, vivacious, happy little guy. Then you learn he's very short-tempered. But is it a disability? In most situations in public, does a child need the skills that ADHD kids lack? The problem is when he needs to be to sit, focus, and socialize in semi-closed but not adequately structured and very noisy settings- say, a noisy cafeteria. A bus. A classroom. Have you been in a "normal" elementary school classroom lately? If I was five or six, I'd have trouble with the distraction and explosion of sensory input, too. It's like the whole room vibrates with color, imagery, motion. Wow. How is Andy going to be able to sit and listen to a story with so much stuff to look at in there? Where does one draw the line between "distractable", "distracted", and "ADD"? Where is the breakpoint between "energetic" and "hyperactive"?
Because all of these labels are a matter of degree. Even autism. "Spectrum" means you can be there and not have it getting in your way (and hence not be "disabled")- it is only when it causes trouble that you need a label. Its a fine line between ability and disability.
A generation or two before my own, Andy's energy and vibrance would have probably been an asset. A kid on a farm who gets up early and can go go go just needs a little channeling and guidance, and few prompts to get them into the routine of farm living. My family grew tobacco back in the day (as well as vegetables for the DC markets). You have to get up and feed the horses every morning, or they get hungry. You have to care for the fields, or you go hungry. There was structure and expectations and a need for energy and wiry strength and quick intelligence. Andy would have blended in and nobody given him a second thought. Perhaps his room would be messy, and his inability to focus been mistaken for a little laziness, but the energy would have probably made up for it. Heck, my house is a disaster and I'm not disabled.
However, Andy is not growing up on a farm forty years ago. He has to be able to go to school and participate in circle time, walk in a line, eat with his friends, play in a gym. He has to be able to organize his belongings, get to his classroom, and complete his assignments. Listening to a story means you have to be able to sit still and focus on the teacher for fifteen minutes. These are now skills to survive in society. These are the kinds of skills ADHD kids lack. Impulsiveness is not considered a virtue, and is considered a discipline problem rather than a neurological problem (facts be damned).
When you explain to someone that your child has autism, you get looks. Pity is a weird thing, especially when you don't need it. When you explain to someone your child has ADHD, its a different look. Something akin to "ah... you're one of those nutters. Go take a parenting class." Yes, they see you as part of the Great Medicalization Cult.
Unfortunately, getting services without a diagnosis is like trying to get a cat to fetch a stick.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Two Big Chickens in the Afternoon
In an attempt to get the boys to relax, and give me a minute to just enjoy watching them being themselves while taking a big breath, I wandered out to Grandma's house (that would be my mom's) with boys. Actually, it was a bit of a hectic morning, unexpectedly; my classes were all up in the air again, and I had to go straighten it out. I also had Andy's stuff to straighten out. Things are clicking along on all fronts again. (Yay!) So, breathing. It's a Good Thing.
Mom took Andy with her, and I went to get Joey off the bus. Another surprise- one of Joey's beloved (and practically new) crocs got broken at school. Joey doesn't do broken. He perseverates on it to anxiety meltdown. Just what I really didn't want. So we popped into a shop that fortunately had a pair in his size on sale. Disaster averted.
We then scooped up some Happy Meals (the boys love teenie beanies, and its the last day), and off to Grandma's we toodled, to slide on her big blow-up water slide and Sit. Down.
Blowing up the big slide is always an adventure. It is too heavy for us to move around, so once it is set up, there it stays. I pull the motor through a window (it can't stay out because- get this- it can't get wet.) Then I hook everything up, and turn on the switch. As it inflates, I chase the spiders off, and rescue several with my famous Spider Rescue Stick. (the only spiders I believe in killing around here are black widows. I don't like them in my house, but spiders eat other bugs like biting flies and roaches). Anyway, as I am rescuing a particularly large spider, Joey is saying, "snake! I see a snake!"
(How many of you just found yourself clinging to the ceiling?)
Grandma and I took a few minutes to see it ourselves, but there it was- I had practically stepped on it putting up the pool. Now with all the noise and bother of the search, it was poised for self-defense. A small, brown, diamond-mottled snake, with a swollen head... hearts stopped. Praise of Joey commenced. But I was now trapped in the pool with a long stick and a measure of distance as my only defense. Yes, folks, Joey had just saved us pain, agony, and possibly his and his brother's lives.
It was a copperhead.
We got the boys back to the porch, and I managed to get the pool turned off. But now we had a copperhead to deal with. When I was young, we didn't see many copperheads around my house, because there was plenty of space for them elsewhere and we nurtured the company of large black ratsnakes, who eat copperhead hatchlings, and black kingsnakes, who eat copperheads. With all the clearing around here (why do people buy wooded lots, then cut down all the trees???), the copperheads are being driven this way, and the old kingsnake that used to hang out around the garden hasn't been seen in a while. I hadn't seen a live copperhead in quite some time. I wasn't enjoying it now. Especially one eyeing me and my stick that look of "jab me with that thing again, you idiot, and I'm going to show you exactly how long I am!"
Sorry, herpatologists out there, but to me, copperheads are the same category as black widow spiders. They are beautiful. And the must DIE.
But as mom as I stared at this little snake, an he glared back at us, we were at a loss. I've never killed a snake. Its not like a little spider that you toss a shoe at. If I get it wrong, I could be in big trouble. We found a little grasscutter blade tool thingy, but the handle was only four feet long. And it was looking right at me. With that look. You could almost hear it say, "Go ahead, idiot. Make. My. Day."
And mom was reinforcing the fact that it really, really needed to join the Choir Invisible. Maybe even pine for fjords. She was right. As I said before. DIE. DIE. DIE.
And there it was. To get a good swing in, I'd probably have to chop off part of the pool, and it's position under a bench attached to the garden wall meant I would be at a very odd angle.
"Mom," I said, "we can't do this."
In other words... bokbokbokbokbok! I'm a chicken. No, wait, we're both chickens.
Yes, the snake was allowed to live. And the boys were not allowed to play in the pool. And we have our handy blade tool thingy close to hand, waiting for Round Two: Death of the Snake.
Mom took Andy with her, and I went to get Joey off the bus. Another surprise- one of Joey's beloved (and practically new) crocs got broken at school. Joey doesn't do broken. He perseverates on it to anxiety meltdown. Just what I really didn't want. So we popped into a shop that fortunately had a pair in his size on sale. Disaster averted.
We then scooped up some Happy Meals (the boys love teenie beanies, and its the last day), and off to Grandma's we toodled, to slide on her big blow-up water slide and Sit. Down.
Blowing up the big slide is always an adventure. It is too heavy for us to move around, so once it is set up, there it stays. I pull the motor through a window (it can't stay out because- get this- it can't get wet.) Then I hook everything up, and turn on the switch. As it inflates, I chase the spiders off, and rescue several with my famous Spider Rescue Stick. (the only spiders I believe in killing around here are black widows. I don't like them in my house, but spiders eat other bugs like biting flies and roaches). Anyway, as I am rescuing a particularly large spider, Joey is saying, "snake! I see a snake!"
(How many of you just found yourself clinging to the ceiling?)
Grandma and I took a few minutes to see it ourselves, but there it was- I had practically stepped on it putting up the pool. Now with all the noise and bother of the search, it was poised for self-defense. A small, brown, diamond-mottled snake, with a swollen head... hearts stopped. Praise of Joey commenced. But I was now trapped in the pool with a long stick and a measure of distance as my only defense. Yes, folks, Joey had just saved us pain, agony, and possibly his and his brother's lives.
It was a copperhead.
We got the boys back to the porch, and I managed to get the pool turned off. But now we had a copperhead to deal with. When I was young, we didn't see many copperheads around my house, because there was plenty of space for them elsewhere and we nurtured the company of large black ratsnakes, who eat copperhead hatchlings, and black kingsnakes, who eat copperheads. With all the clearing around here (why do people buy wooded lots, then cut down all the trees???), the copperheads are being driven this way, and the old kingsnake that used to hang out around the garden hasn't been seen in a while. I hadn't seen a live copperhead in quite some time. I wasn't enjoying it now. Especially one eyeing me and my stick that look of "jab me with that thing again, you idiot, and I'm going to show you exactly how long I am!"
Sorry, herpatologists out there, but to me, copperheads are the same category as black widow spiders. They are beautiful. And the must DIE.
But as mom as I stared at this little snake, an he glared back at us, we were at a loss. I've never killed a snake. Its not like a little spider that you toss a shoe at. If I get it wrong, I could be in big trouble. We found a little grasscutter blade tool thingy, but the handle was only four feet long. And it was looking right at me. With that look. You could almost hear it say, "Go ahead, idiot. Make. My. Day."
And mom was reinforcing the fact that it really, really needed to join the Choir Invisible. Maybe even pine for fjords. She was right. As I said before. DIE. DIE. DIE.
And there it was. To get a good swing in, I'd probably have to chop off part of the pool, and it's position under a bench attached to the garden wall meant I would be at a very odd angle.
"Mom," I said, "we can't do this."
In other words... bokbokbokbokbok! I'm a chicken. No, wait, we're both chickens.
Yes, the snake was allowed to live. And the boys were not allowed to play in the pool. And we have our handy blade tool thingy close to hand, waiting for Round Two: Death of the Snake.
Thing that make you go "Hmmm...."
Well, there's nothing quite like thinking everything is moving along and then realizing you let your guard down and just got sucker-punched. Yes, indeed. That email that comes with that every popular line, "We scheduled your meeting on [date you could have told them weeks ago you wouldn't be in town for if anyone had bothered to call you]. I assume you got a letter..."
Well, no, actually. I haven't gotten a letter, I had no idea the date was scheduled, and that is exactly two weeks from today, when did you think you were going to schedule those four evals you wanted to do before that meeting?
Yes, I've already been embarrassed by being lectured about special education by the doc, when I'm the chair of the frickin' parent special ed committee and had the child screened not once, but twice. Can't I see this child needs an IEP? Well, no. What do i know about "normal"? He just looks like Andy to me. And he can do things like hold a conversation and dress himself. It isn't obvious to me. I had no idea how much support he might need for school, thanks.
But now that it is clear these behaviors translate to needing support, I want that support in place. Like, yesterday. Especially since I'm already Not Happy about being the Third Time. This better be the charm, people.
I'm starting to wonder what these people are thinking. Remember me? I'm the one who shows up with the binder of my kids' paperwork in temporal order? The one with the powerpoints? The one chairing your frickin' committee? Did you really think I wouldn't notice that you haven't invited me to the eligibility meeting, that you haven't even done the evals for it?
Beware the claws. Momma Bear is getting out the war paint.
Well, no, actually. I haven't gotten a letter, I had no idea the date was scheduled, and that is exactly two weeks from today, when did you think you were going to schedule those four evals you wanted to do before that meeting?
Yes, I've already been embarrassed by being lectured about special education by the doc, when I'm the chair of the frickin' parent special ed committee and had the child screened not once, but twice. Can't I see this child needs an IEP? Well, no. What do i know about "normal"? He just looks like Andy to me. And he can do things like hold a conversation and dress himself. It isn't obvious to me. I had no idea how much support he might need for school, thanks.
But now that it is clear these behaviors translate to needing support, I want that support in place. Like, yesterday. Especially since I'm already Not Happy about being the Third Time. This better be the charm, people.
I'm starting to wonder what these people are thinking. Remember me? I'm the one who shows up with the binder of my kids' paperwork in temporal order? The one with the powerpoints? The one chairing your frickin' committee? Did you really think I wouldn't notice that you haven't invited me to the eligibility meeting, that you haven't even done the evals for it?
Beware the claws. Momma Bear is getting out the war paint.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Different Skills, Different Paths
Last week I took Joey to watch our auto mechanic, Mr. Jeff, working on cars. Joey loves cars and trucks, and the trip was a success. It may not have looked like Joey was fascinated to most people, as he meandered around the lot peering into windows and talking about various things that wouldn't seem related to cars, I could tell he was happy. There were trucks. There were engines. There were tractors. Life was great. Maybe Joey will grow up to be an auto mechanic!
I know we have family and friends who would not approve. Too many people in this society think that a briefcase and corporate tie are marks of success. The decline in manufacturing and industry in this country has meant the worst financial straits in nearly a century. The excuse for getting rid of factory jobs is that people should go into information technology and other computer and service-sector employment, as if there was something dirty and bad about factory jobs. Let's face it. Not everyone is a computer whiz. In fact, it takes intelligence and good sense to be a good manufacturer, a good auto mechanic, a good construction worker.
I have two boys who need to be able to take their own paths, and we are working hard to prepare them for any path they may decide to take. It is likely that Andy will want something physical to do- park ranger? veterinarian? maybe a farmer? or construction? Joey may need something that doesn't require a lot of speaking. He loves cars and trucks- an auto mechanic seems like a great path to take, if he decides he's really interested.
There's more than one way to make a living. Thank goodness. It would be a boring world if everybody was a computer tech or a doctor. Also a hungry one with nothing to live in, sore feet from walking to work, and nothing to wear. Not that we don't need working computers an good health, but there are so many different paths to take. That's one reason we're all made so differently- so we all have our dreams to follow and things we can and want to do.
I know we have family and friends who would not approve. Too many people in this society think that a briefcase and corporate tie are marks of success. The decline in manufacturing and industry in this country has meant the worst financial straits in nearly a century. The excuse for getting rid of factory jobs is that people should go into information technology and other computer and service-sector employment, as if there was something dirty and bad about factory jobs. Let's face it. Not everyone is a computer whiz. In fact, it takes intelligence and good sense to be a good manufacturer, a good auto mechanic, a good construction worker.
I have two boys who need to be able to take their own paths, and we are working hard to prepare them for any path they may decide to take. It is likely that Andy will want something physical to do- park ranger? veterinarian? maybe a farmer? or construction? Joey may need something that doesn't require a lot of speaking. He loves cars and trucks- an auto mechanic seems like a great path to take, if he decides he's really interested.
There's more than one way to make a living. Thank goodness. It would be a boring world if everybody was a computer tech or a doctor. Also a hungry one with nothing to live in, sore feet from walking to work, and nothing to wear. Not that we don't need working computers an good health, but there are so many different paths to take. That's one reason we're all made so differently- so we all have our dreams to follow and things we can and want to do.
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