Last spring, we designed Joey's big IEP for the school year. IEPs here are now not school year-to-school year, but are to cover 12 months from implementation. This wasn't a big issue, as Joey had mastered his goals from his previous IEP, so he was ready for new goals and new work. So we thought hard about where we thought he could go between April and April, and wrote it up.
I admit we've had some setbacks since then. Joey's mental health deteriorated significantly. The result was a huge explosion in behaviors to communicate that deterioration, the most significant being downright dangerous. We have had to put a lot of energy into getting him settled in his new school after the disastrously inappropriate summer program. However, all those problems were rooted in poor transition planning and implementation; in other words, lack of appropriate support.
Now we are in a school with no autism specialist, no resource room, none of the things that made Joey's school experience work for him. His teachers are busting their butts trying to figure out how to help him; but that also means they are not spending all the energy on actually helping, they have to spend it on thinking, experimenting, and reinventing the wheel.
I just saw Joey's first official report card. His midterm reports were pretty good, all A's on his academic subjects (which we thought a little odd, to be honest, considering that the teachers were telling us they hadn't been able to provide him any instruction due to behavior issues).
The new C's were not the most startlingly telling thing about this report, however. It was the IEP.
When you have an IEP, part of it is a section evaluating progress towards the goal. The scores are M (mastered), SP (sufficient progress made to complete the goal on time), ES (emerging skill, but may not meet the goal on time), IP (insufficient progress to meet the goal on time), and NI (no instruction provided).
For the May and June reports, where he was in his old school with all his supports, everything was SP.
For the September and November reports, none of them are. NONE. We even have an NI. Two ES. Mostly IP.
That, my friends and readers, is the difference support makes. Remember this as you go into your IEPs, your teacher conferences (even with your non-disabled children), your meetings and plannings and everything else. Support=success. Without it?
IP.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Lunch Ideas, Anyone?
Andy does not eat bread. Or noodles. Oh, that includes things like flatbread and pita.
So I need breadless lunch ideas. He's been subsisting on cheese sticks, cheese crackers, and cheez whiz snacks. I haven't had luck with cream cheese or cottage cheese. He doesn't like eggs. Sending in plain lunchmeat worked... for a while. Not anymore. He's not eating yogurt anymore, either.
And the fact is, the child needs to eat. He's skinny as a rail, and constantly on the move. I'm worried about his future health if all I can get him to eat are pre-packaged junk foods His body may be able to handle them now, but what about ten years from now? Twenty? And all that salt can't be doing him any good.
We're in a world of kids with strange food preferences and limited diets. What do you send in those school lunchboxes? Help!
Thanks!
So I need breadless lunch ideas. He's been subsisting on cheese sticks, cheese crackers, and cheez whiz snacks. I haven't had luck with cream cheese or cottage cheese. He doesn't like eggs. Sending in plain lunchmeat worked... for a while. Not anymore. He's not eating yogurt anymore, either.
And the fact is, the child needs to eat. He's skinny as a rail, and constantly on the move. I'm worried about his future health if all I can get him to eat are pre-packaged junk foods His body may be able to handle them now, but what about ten years from now? Twenty? And all that salt can't be doing him any good.
We're in a world of kids with strange food preferences and limited diets. What do you send in those school lunchboxes? Help!
Thanks!
Friday, November 12, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Pot Luck Magazine Call for Submissions
Yes, I am still the layout editor for Pot Luck! We are currently looking for your contributions! Check it out here!
For my part, I am working on a spread about winter holidays for the winter issue, due out Dec 15. I'm also working on cookie recipes! Deadline for submissions is Nov 30. However, I am also looking for gardening, crafting, and kitchen/cooking info, tips, recipes, etc. for all year round! After all, after the winter issue comes the spring issue... then the summer issue... then the fall issue... then we start over again...
Just to get folks thinking, I am looking at a variety of topics that are seasonally connected, and I'd like to build up a repertoire of material that I can include in these sections, instead of it being just my own voice. For the last issue (Fall), we did tomatoes (including canning) and corn, because we had a couple of recipes and ideas, and I just added more material to fill out the spreads and bridge between late summer and fall. Next year, I am hoping to do pumpkins and gourds and a second (as yet unknown) fall ideas spread.
So far, Pot Luck has been mostly a lit mag, but we want to expand to include a variety of voices and styles. The point is to get people reading, thinking, and talking! Come join us!
For my part, I am working on a spread about winter holidays for the winter issue, due out Dec 15. I'm also working on cookie recipes! Deadline for submissions is Nov 30. However, I am also looking for gardening, crafting, and kitchen/cooking info, tips, recipes, etc. for all year round! After all, after the winter issue comes the spring issue... then the summer issue... then the fall issue... then we start over again...
Just to get folks thinking, I am looking at a variety of topics that are seasonally connected, and I'd like to build up a repertoire of material that I can include in these sections, instead of it being just my own voice. For the last issue (Fall), we did tomatoes (including canning) and corn, because we had a couple of recipes and ideas, and I just added more material to fill out the spreads and bridge between late summer and fall. Next year, I am hoping to do pumpkins and gourds and a second (as yet unknown) fall ideas spread.
So far, Pot Luck has been mostly a lit mag, but we want to expand to include a variety of voices and styles. The point is to get people reading, thinking, and talking! Come join us!
Monday, November 08, 2010
A Tale of Two Days
Saturday.
Joey and Andy were in giggly moods. They wrestled and hugged all day long. Andy tried to pull off one of Joey's shoes, and ended up dragging Joey across the floor instead; they both thought this was hilarious. Laughter reigned.
Sunday.
After a walk around Wakefield (turkeyless, thank goodness), which just kind of went so-so, a key broke on Joey's computer while he was playing a game.
All hell broke loose.
Screaming, throwing things, throwing himself, refusing to go to his room to calm down, yelling at us to "kill me, please!" We had the talk about facing your mistakes. We talked about how the key coming off the computer wasn't entirely his fault, and that it was fixed (yay, JoeyAndyDad!), and nothing to be this upset about. It took him a good half-hour to calm down. We didn't want to over-react to the pleading, because he seems to know these words get swift and dramatic reaction. We don't want to completely ignore it, either.
But what a difference a day makes. And this morning? Got up and bounced off to school.
I hope he had a good day.
Joey and Andy were in giggly moods. They wrestled and hugged all day long. Andy tried to pull off one of Joey's shoes, and ended up dragging Joey across the floor instead; they both thought this was hilarious. Laughter reigned.
Sunday.
After a walk around Wakefield (turkeyless, thank goodness), which just kind of went so-so, a key broke on Joey's computer while he was playing a game.
All hell broke loose.
Screaming, throwing things, throwing himself, refusing to go to his room to calm down, yelling at us to "kill me, please!" We had the talk about facing your mistakes. We talked about how the key coming off the computer wasn't entirely his fault, and that it was fixed (yay, JoeyAndyDad!), and nothing to be this upset about. It took him a good half-hour to calm down. We didn't want to over-react to the pleading, because he seems to know these words get swift and dramatic reaction. We don't want to completely ignore it, either.
But what a difference a day makes. And this morning? Got up and bounced off to school.
I hope he had a good day.
Wednesday, November 03, 2010
Living The Penguin Life
Some time ago, Mom-NOS came up with the perfect metaphor for autistic kids in the neurotypical world.
Here, I present a lame imitation, because I have been watching A Wish For Wings That Work, and it so fits our world.
We live in a duck world. The world is full of ducks- versatile creatures who swim, dive, and fly. They can soar magnificently through the skies, then plunge into the depths. Nobody worries about the waddling, because hey, everybody waddles. So its cool.
My kid is a penguin.
The difference between ducks and penguins is not so great as between toasters in hair dryers. You would never mistake a hair dryer for a toaster. But with ducks and penguins, they are both birds. It might take a minute to point out differences. After all, they both waddle. They both swim. They both have feathers. They are both birds.
At the same time, a penguin is not a duck. Penguins waddle, but they walk upright. They swim, but instead of just kicking with their feet, they use their wings as well. Penguins are excellent swimmers, and they get the waddling thing done in their own way.
But they cannot fly.
Penguins living in a duck world spend their lives being ridiculed and pushed about not being able to fly. After all, they are birds, they have feathers, why can't they fly? Teachers push them to fly. Peers tease them about not being able to fly. There is an obsession with flight in their families, because after all, this is a world where birds fly!
Penguins cannot fly. They are not made to fly. They're penguins, not ducks. They can swim far better than ducks, but that is ignored by ducks in a duck world.
What is great about A Wish For Wings That Work is it shows us that it is important to have a variety of talents and gifts in the world. A duck and ice water don't get along, but penguins swim beautifully in it. We need penguins. Just in case Santa falls into an icy pond and needs to be rescued.
Another interesting sideline is how Opus treats Bill throughout the film. The rejection of others who are disabled by people with their own disabilities is something we are noticing more and more. On the surface, Bill has no talents to share. But look closer at the clips. Bill has loyalty, he has the brains to know who can help. He may smell of brussel sprouts, but he is not useless. He's trying to live in a duck world, too.
And best of all, Opus does fly at the end. With some help and support, some appreciation for the talents of others and support for their challenges, we can all live in a duck world. Or perhaps, just the world.
Here, I present a lame imitation, because I have been watching A Wish For Wings That Work, and it so fits our world.
We live in a duck world. The world is full of ducks- versatile creatures who swim, dive, and fly. They can soar magnificently through the skies, then plunge into the depths. Nobody worries about the waddling, because hey, everybody waddles. So its cool.
My kid is a penguin.
The difference between ducks and penguins is not so great as between toasters in hair dryers. You would never mistake a hair dryer for a toaster. But with ducks and penguins, they are both birds. It might take a minute to point out differences. After all, they both waddle. They both swim. They both have feathers. They are both birds.
At the same time, a penguin is not a duck. Penguins waddle, but they walk upright. They swim, but instead of just kicking with their feet, they use their wings as well. Penguins are excellent swimmers, and they get the waddling thing done in their own way.
But they cannot fly.
Penguins living in a duck world spend their lives being ridiculed and pushed about not being able to fly. After all, they are birds, they have feathers, why can't they fly? Teachers push them to fly. Peers tease them about not being able to fly. There is an obsession with flight in their families, because after all, this is a world where birds fly!
Penguins cannot fly. They are not made to fly. They're penguins, not ducks. They can swim far better than ducks, but that is ignored by ducks in a duck world.
What is great about A Wish For Wings That Work is it shows us that it is important to have a variety of talents and gifts in the world. A duck and ice water don't get along, but penguins swim beautifully in it. We need penguins. Just in case Santa falls into an icy pond and needs to be rescued.
Another interesting sideline is how Opus treats Bill throughout the film. The rejection of others who are disabled by people with their own disabilities is something we are noticing more and more. On the surface, Bill has no talents to share. But look closer at the clips. Bill has loyalty, he has the brains to know who can help. He may smell of brussel sprouts, but he is not useless. He's trying to live in a duck world, too.
And best of all, Opus does fly at the end. With some help and support, some appreciation for the talents of others and support for their challenges, we can all live in a duck world. Or perhaps, just the world.
Monday, November 01, 2010
When Silence Is Not Golden
My son is autistic.
He repeats words and phrases to comfort himself and make himself laugh. He sometimes picks up on words when you least expect him to, and then repeats them for weeks.
He uses language to communicate emotions by attaching emotions to words, even when those words may make no sense out of their original context. He often repeats blocks of words and phrases he has heard before, modifying them slightly to fit what he wants the words to do.
When frustrated or angry, he often runs out of words and cannot process language effectively, either expressive or receptive. The result can be a meltdown or an attempt to escape the painful emotions.
He loves people, but is unsure how to talk to them or react to them, and finds them confusingly unpredictable. He also loves and fears dogs for the same reason.
He reads beautifully, but hates doing it because it "hurts".
If someone is hurt, he is the first to be in at their side and trying to make them feel better.
He loves math. His favorite game is to think up math questions to ask and giggling over the answers.
If someone teases or bullies him, he does not have the social skills to manage the situation or the language skills to effectively report it to someone else. He is hurt and sad, but cannot explain why. He gets grumpy and touchy, but can't express the connections to the problem.
He understands you better if you use sign language while you are speaking. If you show him "I love you," he will say, "I love you, too!"
If you ask him about his day, he will recite his schedule, or script an answer. But he gets grumpy if you don't ask.
I remember the silence. I remember the days of wondering what was brewing in that golden head, and eagerly awaiting every sound, every word. My son's voice may not be what anyone expects, but if you listen, he is filled with the joy of the world around him, and is sharing it the best he can- and has insights to share in seeing the world through his eyes. You just have to take the time to listen.
So listen up. Joey is speaking.
He repeats words and phrases to comfort himself and make himself laugh. He sometimes picks up on words when you least expect him to, and then repeats them for weeks.
He uses language to communicate emotions by attaching emotions to words, even when those words may make no sense out of their original context. He often repeats blocks of words and phrases he has heard before, modifying them slightly to fit what he wants the words to do.
When frustrated or angry, he often runs out of words and cannot process language effectively, either expressive or receptive. The result can be a meltdown or an attempt to escape the painful emotions.
He loves people, but is unsure how to talk to them or react to them, and finds them confusingly unpredictable. He also loves and fears dogs for the same reason.
He reads beautifully, but hates doing it because it "hurts".
If someone is hurt, he is the first to be in at their side and trying to make them feel better.
He loves math. His favorite game is to think up math questions to ask and giggling over the answers.
If someone teases or bullies him, he does not have the social skills to manage the situation or the language skills to effectively report it to someone else. He is hurt and sad, but cannot explain why. He gets grumpy and touchy, but can't express the connections to the problem.
He understands you better if you use sign language while you are speaking. If you show him "I love you," he will say, "I love you, too!"
If you ask him about his day, he will recite his schedule, or script an answer. But he gets grumpy if you don't ask.
I remember the silence. I remember the days of wondering what was brewing in that golden head, and eagerly awaiting every sound, every word. My son's voice may not be what anyone expects, but if you listen, he is filled with the joy of the world around him, and is sharing it the best he can- and has insights to share in seeing the world through his eyes. You just have to take the time to listen.
So listen up. Joey is speaking.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Week 8, Meeting 8
So we met with the Math Differentiation Teacher, whom we can call Ms. Math, today to discuss Joey. She had given him the third grade test and the fourth grade test. Funny enough, he flunked the third grade test, and passed the fourth grade test. How's them apples?
First, I'd like to say that my first impression of Ms. Math is that she rocks, and she's just the kind of person Joey responds well to- very huggy, happy, and enthusiastic. Her idea was that Joey needs to have the material presented, but clearly picks things up so fast that he needs a lot of "enrichment"- activities to use the skills and expand upon them. She's going to go check him out in person and for herself next week. She seems very excited. I'd say Joey is about to rock her world in a totally fabulous way.
We'll see what happens.
First, I'd like to say that my first impression of Ms. Math is that she rocks, and she's just the kind of person Joey responds well to- very huggy, happy, and enthusiastic. Her idea was that Joey needs to have the material presented, but clearly picks things up so fast that he needs a lot of "enrichment"- activities to use the skills and expand upon them. She's going to go check him out in person and for herself next week. She seems very excited. I'd say Joey is about to rock her world in a totally fabulous way.
We'll see what happens.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOEYANDYDAD!
We love you. Hope you have a fantabulous birthday!
Added: Joey's birthday card for his Dad:
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Week 8, Meeting 7
This week's meeting: the Functional Behavior Assessment. This is the meeting you have when your child's behavior is challenging and disruptive, so the school decides they better figure it out quick. Let's not get into a discussion of the meaning of "quick." Personally, from the time I agreed to the FBA to the time of meeting, in school terms, I think they did really well.
This was one of the better meetings I've been to. After, how cool is a meeting that is specifically for sitting around brainstorming about what is possibly causing behavior, and how to help him learn to cope with those antecedents? I took my mom with me, which always helps, because she tends to cut right to what we are seeing from home without beating around the bush, and she has no fear of our school psych. Fortunately, the school psych was actually helpful this time. Oh, and the OT? Nowhere to be found. We'll count that as a positive, too.
So we had a room full of Joey's teachers, all of whom are interested in helping him. This last couple of weeks I think has really helped Joey- not only have we gotten his anxiety levels into his normal range, but his teachers have gotten a chance to see what Joey is really like. This has given people a chance to fall in love with him. Or at least in like. Or at the very least, see what he is really capable of if he is supported properly. Any of these three things can make a huge difference, because it gives these teachers a chance to realize they can make a huge difference. That's why most of these people went into teaching in the first place. Hey, I teach, too. I know how much more fun and awesome it is to teach a student who rocks, even when they need support and lots of attention. When you see the potential and the determination is there, you are more ready to go for it. Joey has potential and determination. And he's squishy into the bargain.
So everybody came out with some new ideas, new strategies, and new things to try. I think we can call this one a "win."
Up next: Meeting 8: What To Do About Joey the Math Genius.
This was one of the better meetings I've been to. After, how cool is a meeting that is specifically for sitting around brainstorming about what is possibly causing behavior, and how to help him learn to cope with those antecedents? I took my mom with me, which always helps, because she tends to cut right to what we are seeing from home without beating around the bush, and she has no fear of our school psych. Fortunately, the school psych was actually helpful this time. Oh, and the OT? Nowhere to be found. We'll count that as a positive, too.
So we had a room full of Joey's teachers, all of whom are interested in helping him. This last couple of weeks I think has really helped Joey- not only have we gotten his anxiety levels into his normal range, but his teachers have gotten a chance to see what Joey is really like. This has given people a chance to fall in love with him. Or at least in like. Or at the very least, see what he is really capable of if he is supported properly. Any of these three things can make a huge difference, because it gives these teachers a chance to realize they can make a huge difference. That's why most of these people went into teaching in the first place. Hey, I teach, too. I know how much more fun and awesome it is to teach a student who rocks, even when they need support and lots of attention. When you see the potential and the determination is there, you are more ready to go for it. Joey has potential and determination. And he's squishy into the bargain.
So everybody came out with some new ideas, new strategies, and new things to try. I think we can call this one a "win."
Up next: Meeting 8: What To Do About Joey the Math Genius.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Considering: The Joeymom Avatar
My boys are growing up. Kids grow up whether you raise them or not. It's a time thing. Time keeps marching on.
Some folks have asked me why I am Joeymom and Not JoeyAndyMom (especially since my husband is JoeyAndyDad, and the blog address is joeyandymom). It's a time thing. When I set up this blog, I was using an older blogger account, and just set up a new blog instead of starting it all from scratch. I had been Joeymom for a couple years before Andy came along. Funny enough, I don't think anybody who actually knew me online in those two years is anywhere on the radar now. Something about no longer being able to compare my kid's milestones to theirs. Moms can be funny things.
When I set up the blog, the new thing was picking an avatar: a little picture to represent me to the internet world. This was new and exciting for me four and a half years ago. I started my internet life with text-based MUDs. Even chat rooms had minimal choices for little pictures to go with your name. I knew this was important, though. When your contact with a person is exclusively online, that little visual image is how they think of you. Art is a powerful addition to a world based entirely on the visual. Now I would be more than words, I would be a little picture.
Should it just be my face? That may sound logical, and in fact, is the option selected by many online. But what does my face really say about me? After all, an avatar is a mini-portrait: a creation of your online presence, much more about who you are than what you look like. An image that gets recalled and connected to you, to your presence, to your "I was here!" in the comments section, something to search for along the many tweets and have that leap of, "oh good! something from you!" when it is scanned and found. Is my face a powerful enough message? How about using the boys?
Besides, the avatar is usually pretty small. About a half-inch square. How legible is my face at that size? And trying to fit two faces in there? Ha! Perhaps something a little more legible in mini would be better. Something like Maddy's goldfish- clear, loaded with symbolism and meaning, and yummy. Maybe something like Miss Kitty's cat, which goes with the name and expresses love for cats. Or Stimey's gerbil. Actually, that kinda fits her to a T. She kinda look like that gerbil. Cute and fuzzy with the tiny claws ready in case you threaten to mess with her, if you know what I mean. Seriously, meet this woman, and tell me I'm wrong. Stimey totally rocks, in a comforting, wonderful way.
Maybe something more graphic. Sunday's banshee comes to mind. Or one of my favorites, mommydearest's gothgirl.
Right. So I made my choice. And I chose...
Uma.
For those of you unaware of our history, Joey basically learned to talk watching Oobi, with the help and support of intensive early interventions. He loved Oobi, the talking hands on Noggin. The show is hilarious, gentle, imaginative, and beautifully captures the concerns of young children. Uma is Oobi's little sister. No, that isn't my hand. I can tell you that the voice is Stephanie D'Abruzzo, but I am not sure if she is also the "puppeteer" or not.
I have been Uma now for four and a half years. I wonder how many people think of me as a hand puppet with googly eyes. Hey, Stimey, do I look like Uma? Or more like a Shmoo?
My kids are 6 and 8 now. Oobi has been left behind with a world of preschool cares and joys. They are growing up. I do sometimes miss those little babies, so squishable and giggly, but I do so love the boys they have become, and I look forward to teh men they are going to be. Perhaps it is time to move along, and find something new.
Maybe a shmoo.
Some folks have asked me why I am Joeymom and Not JoeyAndyMom (especially since my husband is JoeyAndyDad, and the blog address is joeyandymom). It's a time thing. When I set up this blog, I was using an older blogger account, and just set up a new blog instead of starting it all from scratch. I had been Joeymom for a couple years before Andy came along. Funny enough, I don't think anybody who actually knew me online in those two years is anywhere on the radar now. Something about no longer being able to compare my kid's milestones to theirs. Moms can be funny things.
When I set up the blog, the new thing was picking an avatar: a little picture to represent me to the internet world. This was new and exciting for me four and a half years ago. I started my internet life with text-based MUDs. Even chat rooms had minimal choices for little pictures to go with your name. I knew this was important, though. When your contact with a person is exclusively online, that little visual image is how they think of you. Art is a powerful addition to a world based entirely on the visual. Now I would be more than words, I would be a little picture.
Should it just be my face? That may sound logical, and in fact, is the option selected by many online. But what does my face really say about me? After all, an avatar is a mini-portrait: a creation of your online presence, much more about who you are than what you look like. An image that gets recalled and connected to you, to your presence, to your "I was here!" in the comments section, something to search for along the many tweets and have that leap of, "oh good! something from you!" when it is scanned and found. Is my face a powerful enough message? How about using the boys?
Besides, the avatar is usually pretty small. About a half-inch square. How legible is my face at that size? And trying to fit two faces in there? Ha! Perhaps something a little more legible in mini would be better. Something like Maddy's goldfish- clear, loaded with symbolism and meaning, and yummy. Maybe something like Miss Kitty's cat, which goes with the name and expresses love for cats. Or Stimey's gerbil. Actually, that kinda fits her to a T. She kinda look like that gerbil. Cute and fuzzy with the tiny claws ready in case you threaten to mess with her, if you know what I mean. Seriously, meet this woman, and tell me I'm wrong. Stimey totally rocks, in a comforting, wonderful way.
Maybe something more graphic. Sunday's banshee comes to mind. Or one of my favorites, mommydearest's gothgirl.
Right. So I made my choice. And I chose...
Uma.
For those of you unaware of our history, Joey basically learned to talk watching Oobi, with the help and support of intensive early interventions. He loved Oobi, the talking hands on Noggin. The show is hilarious, gentle, imaginative, and beautifully captures the concerns of young children. Uma is Oobi's little sister. No, that isn't my hand. I can tell you that the voice is Stephanie D'Abruzzo, but I am not sure if she is also the "puppeteer" or not.
I have been Uma now for four and a half years. I wonder how many people think of me as a hand puppet with googly eyes. Hey, Stimey, do I look like Uma? Or more like a Shmoo?
My kids are 6 and 8 now. Oobi has been left behind with a world of preschool cares and joys. They are growing up. I do sometimes miss those little babies, so squishable and giggly, but I do so love the boys they have become, and I look forward to teh men they are going to be. Perhaps it is time to move along, and find something new.
Maybe a shmoo.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Enjoy the Ride
Sometimes when the boys are all bouncy and out-of-sorts, we find it a good idea to break it up, so each little guy gets some 1:1 time with Mom or Dad. Such was today.
It was my turn to have the Joey-Boy all to myself. Joey has been too overwhelmed to be able to actually pick out a nice pumpkin or enjoy the pumpkin patch, one of his favorite activities. I was so glad when he said he wanted to go for his activity. Off to Snead's for a fun-filled afternoon of chickens, hay, and pumpkins!
I didn't take a camera. I just spent the afternoon enjoying being with my son.
As part of the treat, he got to sit in the front seat with Mom. We drove through the fields, looking at the growing Christmas trees, the overgrown asparagus fields, and of course the pumpkins. We drove through the ford to the back fields, a very exciting moment as we were in my little neon, not the jeep, and it rained yesterday. We took our time picking out pumpkins. He picked a green one, of course, and then we picked out a really big orange one together. We wandered back to park near the barns, so he could play in the hay. We patted goats. We hugged baby cows. We giggled at alpacas. We even touched a baby chicken!
Then we went for a hay ride. The lady who runs the tractor saw us and laughed about us being return customers. Something to the effect of "you should get bulk rates!" But she didn't give us bulk rates. Besides, it was just the two of us today. Our hay ride was a small group. Joey bounced around the cart- looking through the floor slats at the ground passing beneath and the wheels turning, checking out the different places to sit in search of the best view, trying out laying down, sitting up, laying on his back, laying on his tummy. He called out random words to the pumpkins and to the people we passed. He giggled. He leaned against me. He wrote in the air with a stick. He looked at me like I was crazy when I pointed out the pumpkins and the trees and the horses. He was busy.
We played in the corn teepee for a while. It really needs some restoration now; it was really lovely when it was first done, now it is about to fall over. We wandered past the alpacas again, and picked out some gourds. Then he found the golf cart. Folks from the farm use it to tool around and check on things. Apparently, they leave the keys in it. Joey loves golf carts. He wanted to get in it, but I managed to get him over to the gourds to pick some out. He liked ones with lots of colors and bumps. When I was young, the popular gourd was a little white one that looked like a shmoo. I like those, but you don't see them anymore. (If anybody remembers them and can tell me what they are called, I would be very happy. It is not a white cushaw, they are too bumpy; these were smooth).
As I was paying for them, I heard the golf cart start up. I looked up to call Joey so he could see one of the farm people riding in it, and wave... to find that it was Joey. One quick call and he stopped, thank all goodness! But it also was a good signal that it was time to go home. Joey started on his "I'm a stupid boy" routine because he was upset (and probably embarrassed) about his golf cart adventure, so I softened it a little by letting him look at the baby chicks one more time (they were right next to the car). Then we had a talk about safety and how you have to be 16 to drive a golf cart as we started for home.
He said he'd like one for Christmas, anyway.
It was my turn to have the Joey-Boy all to myself. Joey has been too overwhelmed to be able to actually pick out a nice pumpkin or enjoy the pumpkin patch, one of his favorite activities. I was so glad when he said he wanted to go for his activity. Off to Snead's for a fun-filled afternoon of chickens, hay, and pumpkins!
I didn't take a camera. I just spent the afternoon enjoying being with my son.
As part of the treat, he got to sit in the front seat with Mom. We drove through the fields, looking at the growing Christmas trees, the overgrown asparagus fields, and of course the pumpkins. We drove through the ford to the back fields, a very exciting moment as we were in my little neon, not the jeep, and it rained yesterday. We took our time picking out pumpkins. He picked a green one, of course, and then we picked out a really big orange one together. We wandered back to park near the barns, so he could play in the hay. We patted goats. We hugged baby cows. We giggled at alpacas. We even touched a baby chicken!
Then we went for a hay ride. The lady who runs the tractor saw us and laughed about us being return customers. Something to the effect of "you should get bulk rates!" But she didn't give us bulk rates. Besides, it was just the two of us today. Our hay ride was a small group. Joey bounced around the cart- looking through the floor slats at the ground passing beneath and the wheels turning, checking out the different places to sit in search of the best view, trying out laying down, sitting up, laying on his back, laying on his tummy. He called out random words to the pumpkins and to the people we passed. He giggled. He leaned against me. He wrote in the air with a stick. He looked at me like I was crazy when I pointed out the pumpkins and the trees and the horses. He was busy.
We played in the corn teepee for a while. It really needs some restoration now; it was really lovely when it was first done, now it is about to fall over. We wandered past the alpacas again, and picked out some gourds. Then he found the golf cart. Folks from the farm use it to tool around and check on things. Apparently, they leave the keys in it. Joey loves golf carts. He wanted to get in it, but I managed to get him over to the gourds to pick some out. He liked ones with lots of colors and bumps. When I was young, the popular gourd was a little white one that looked like a shmoo. I like those, but you don't see them anymore. (If anybody remembers them and can tell me what they are called, I would be very happy. It is not a white cushaw, they are too bumpy; these were smooth).
As I was paying for them, I heard the golf cart start up. I looked up to call Joey so he could see one of the farm people riding in it, and wave... to find that it was Joey. One quick call and he stopped, thank all goodness! But it also was a good signal that it was time to go home. Joey started on his "I'm a stupid boy" routine because he was upset (and probably embarrassed) about his golf cart adventure, so I softened it a little by letting him look at the baby chicks one more time (they were right next to the car). Then we had a talk about safety and how you have to be 16 to drive a golf cart as we started for home.
He said he'd like one for Christmas, anyway.
Friday, October 15, 2010
A Day Off
Today is Friday. That means it is my "day off." This is the one day I don't work any of my jobs. The children are in school. The husband is at work. The purpose of this day is to nap. That never seems to actually happen.
What usually happens is it gets cancelled. And I end up running around getting nothing I intended to do done.
Today, I totally kicked butt and took names.
I got the guys on the buses with no pouting, screaming, or tears. Win.
I went home and moved the rest of the boxes I needed to move out of the guest room into the attic. Win.
I moved some furniture that also needed to be moved. Win.
I got dinner going in the crockpot (Autumn succotash stew!) Win.
I removed my entire fabric collection to the attic for the holiday season, so we can stop tripping over it in the livingroom or kicking it under the table in the kitchen. two large plastic storage bins, five bankers' boxes, and three assorted shipping boxes' worth. Not counting the collection already in the attic. I love fabric. Win.
I made my bed. Win.
I made Joey's bed. Win.
I cleared the mantel to prepare for Halloween decorations. Win.
I got the Halloween decorations out and the mantel decorated. Win.
I bought cat food and fish water. Win.
I dropped off some baby toys and books at school to be used or passed on to Ms. Macy's little darling. Win.
I got to talk to Ms. H and Ms. Macy. Bonus Win.
I got to have lunch with Mom. Superwin.
We tried to go to Joey's book fair, and discovered the school was in lockdown. Fail. And we never did find out why it was in lockdown.
So we went shopping at Tuesday Morning instead. I got a new roaster pan for Thanksgiving. Very win.
I got the fish tank cleaned and the water changed. Win.
We got the boys, then dropped Mom off at her truck, and spent the afternoon playing games and watching Halloween movies and squishing boys. WIN.
That's a rockin' day off!
What usually happens is it gets cancelled. And I end up running around getting nothing I intended to do done.
Today, I totally kicked butt and took names.
I got the guys on the buses with no pouting, screaming, or tears. Win.
I went home and moved the rest of the boxes I needed to move out of the guest room into the attic. Win.
I moved some furniture that also needed to be moved. Win.
I got dinner going in the crockpot (Autumn succotash stew!) Win.
I removed my entire fabric collection to the attic for the holiday season, so we can stop tripping over it in the livingroom or kicking it under the table in the kitchen. two large plastic storage bins, five bankers' boxes, and three assorted shipping boxes' worth. Not counting the collection already in the attic. I love fabric. Win.
I made my bed. Win.
I made Joey's bed. Win.
I cleared the mantel to prepare for Halloween decorations. Win.
I got the Halloween decorations out and the mantel decorated. Win.
I bought cat food and fish water. Win.
I dropped off some baby toys and books at school to be used or passed on to Ms. Macy's little darling. Win.
I got to talk to Ms. H and Ms. Macy. Bonus Win.
I got to have lunch with Mom. Superwin.
We tried to go to Joey's book fair, and discovered the school was in lockdown. Fail. And we never did find out why it was in lockdown.
So we went shopping at Tuesday Morning instead. I got a new roaster pan for Thanksgiving. Very win.
I got the fish tank cleaned and the water changed. Win.
We got the boys, then dropped Mom off at her truck, and spent the afternoon playing games and watching Halloween movies and squishing boys. WIN.
That's a rockin' day off!
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
How to Define "Dramatic Change"
So we went to the doctor, we made the decision, and we started the meds. I can tell you it was not an easy decision, and not one made lightly. The doctor said we'd probably see a change right away.
But holy freakin' COW.
I have notes from teachers about how Joey is asking permission to have breaks or leave the room. He is sitting and doing work. He read ten pages of a book for one of his teachers on Monday. He spent 25 minutes on a single activity on Tuesday. HE gives his teachers hugs, says please and thank you, and takes turns. He's being silly and smiley and... who is this child, and where has he been for the last five months?
If nothing else, Joey's teachers are getting a taste of what he can really do if he's given the correct supports. We just need to figure out what those are. Joey gets break from the overwhelming anxiety that was dragging him into the abyss. Maybe he can then help us by being able to better communicate what he needs, and have a chance to settle in to his routines and get used to his teachers.
I much prefer the giggly Joey, I can tell you. I bet he does, too.
But holy freakin' COW.
I have notes from teachers about how Joey is asking permission to have breaks or leave the room. He is sitting and doing work. He read ten pages of a book for one of his teachers on Monday. He spent 25 minutes on a single activity on Tuesday. HE gives his teachers hugs, says please and thank you, and takes turns. He's being silly and smiley and... who is this child, and where has he been for the last five months?
If nothing else, Joey's teachers are getting a taste of what he can really do if he's given the correct supports. We just need to figure out what those are. Joey gets break from the overwhelming anxiety that was dragging him into the abyss. Maybe he can then help us by being able to better communicate what he needs, and have a chance to settle in to his routines and get used to his teachers.
I much prefer the giggly Joey, I can tell you. I bet he does, too.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Happy Digital Day!
Don't you just love the digital age? We do! So Happy Digital Day!
Why do I love the digital age?
I can scan all of Joey's paperwork into my computer. If I lose anything, I just print it again. In meetings with really savvy folks, I don't have to print it at all; I can just search the desktop for what I need. Oh, and can cross-reference with supporting studies and articles, which I can also keep on my laptop for quick access.
I can get research materials delivered right to my laptop. Most journal articles are available in digital formats through my library website, which makes them searchable and instantly retrievable. Many books are also available this way. No need to go plowing through card catalogues for hours trying to find something that might or might not be relevant to what I am researching.
I can talk to my friends and send them awesome cards instantly.
I can send a letter to a friend in India, and get a reply as soon as they log in- sometimes in 15 minutes.
I can carry my entire collection of music and books in my hand, all the time.
If somebody asks me to back up facts about anything with hard study, I don't have to come back in a couple days. Now I can just say, "OK. Give me five minutes... oh, wait, here you go."
I can shop for fabric online, not just be limited to whatever they happen to have at my local store.
With one tweet, everybody can know what's up.
I can have a lot of photos in one frame on my wall- it changes every 2 minutes.
My students have Instant Access to their professor, any time of day or night.
I can watch movies in my house.
I can work from my house- and have a job that is sufficiently challenging and well-paid.
I can reach my son's teachers with important information, day or night.
I can own a computer, and have it fit in my hand.
I know you. And that is totally awesome.
Why do I love the digital age?
I can scan all of Joey's paperwork into my computer. If I lose anything, I just print it again. In meetings with really savvy folks, I don't have to print it at all; I can just search the desktop for what I need. Oh, and can cross-reference with supporting studies and articles, which I can also keep on my laptop for quick access.
I can get research materials delivered right to my laptop. Most journal articles are available in digital formats through my library website, which makes them searchable and instantly retrievable. Many books are also available this way. No need to go plowing through card catalogues for hours trying to find something that might or might not be relevant to what I am researching.
I can talk to my friends and send them awesome cards instantly.
I can send a letter to a friend in India, and get a reply as soon as they log in- sometimes in 15 minutes.
I can carry my entire collection of music and books in my hand, all the time.
If somebody asks me to back up facts about anything with hard study, I don't have to come back in a couple days. Now I can just say, "OK. Give me five minutes... oh, wait, here you go."
I can shop for fabric online, not just be limited to whatever they happen to have at my local store.
With one tweet, everybody can know what's up.
I can have a lot of photos in one frame on my wall- it changes every 2 minutes.
My students have Instant Access to their professor, any time of day or night.
I can watch movies in my house.
I can work from my house- and have a job that is sufficiently challenging and well-paid.
I can reach my son's teachers with important information, day or night.
I can own a computer, and have it fit in my hand.
I know you. And that is totally awesome.
Friday, October 08, 2010
He's good at math.
I had my sixth meeting with school folks today. This one was completely different. For one, the principal called me and asked for the meeting. For two, I didn't go in with a powerpoint or notes about my kid's strengths and weaknesses, drawn up specifically for the meeting. I just took The Notebook.*
Apparently, they figured out that when I said Joey is "good at math", what I meant was, "he's frickin' BRILLIANT at math."
So the principal wandered into Joey's class, mostly to see how he was doing. Often if Joey is having a hard time, and Mr. R walks in, Joey can pull it together and at least get to his desk (kind of like having the CEO come in to your office, even if the politics around there are awful... you do your best to pull it together so you don't get fired). So he sometimes just pops in and checks.
It was math time in the inclusion room, and the class was busily working on a math test. Well, everybody except Joey, who was at his computer. Mr. R immediately asked why Joey wasn't also working on his math test, and Ms. C handed him Joey's test: he completed it in about two minutes, and got a 100% on it.
Yeah, Joey is good at math.
Whatever else I might say or think about Mr. R, he definitely has this going for him: he knew this was Not Right, and that having Joey bored in a classroom would aggravate the problems we're already having. Hence, the meeting today.
The plan is to see where he is in math skills, and get him in a proper math section, even if he has to be in a fourth or fifth grade section. If he goes to a fourth or fifth grade section, he will absolutely have to have his own aide to take him and help him navigate all the non-math stuff that one deals with in a classroom while learning math. As I said to Joey's kindergarden teacher, Ms. S, long ago: It's not the academics that are the problem. It's Everything Else.
It was a really interesting meeting. We were seriously trying to get a general idea of what might happen if he blew away the fifth grade test and needed sixth or seventh grade math instruction. They saw it as a very real possibility. They were serious.
So was I.
*The Notebook contains all the papers, IEPs, letters, emails, etc. for a given school year. We're already into a 3-inch binder for this year.
Apparently, they figured out that when I said Joey is "good at math", what I meant was, "he's frickin' BRILLIANT at math."
So the principal wandered into Joey's class, mostly to see how he was doing. Often if Joey is having a hard time, and Mr. R walks in, Joey can pull it together and at least get to his desk (kind of like having the CEO come in to your office, even if the politics around there are awful... you do your best to pull it together so you don't get fired). So he sometimes just pops in and checks.
It was math time in the inclusion room, and the class was busily working on a math test. Well, everybody except Joey, who was at his computer. Mr. R immediately asked why Joey wasn't also working on his math test, and Ms. C handed him Joey's test: he completed it in about two minutes, and got a 100% on it.
Yeah, Joey is good at math.
Whatever else I might say or think about Mr. R, he definitely has this going for him: he knew this was Not Right, and that having Joey bored in a classroom would aggravate the problems we're already having. Hence, the meeting today.
The plan is to see where he is in math skills, and get him in a proper math section, even if he has to be in a fourth or fifth grade section. If he goes to a fourth or fifth grade section, he will absolutely have to have his own aide to take him and help him navigate all the non-math stuff that one deals with in a classroom while learning math. As I said to Joey's kindergarden teacher, Ms. S, long ago: It's not the academics that are the problem. It's Everything Else.
It was a really interesting meeting. We were seriously trying to get a general idea of what might happen if he blew away the fifth grade test and needed sixth or seventh grade math instruction. They saw it as a very real possibility. They were serious.
So was I.
*The Notebook contains all the papers, IEPs, letters, emails, etc. for a given school year. We're already into a 3-inch binder for this year.
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
Back to School Blues
Welcome to Week Five of the school catastrophe. If there was a mistake to be made, we've made it; we now stand as an example of why appropriate service is absolutely vital to the success of a disabled child in school. You can't just shove a child into a program, it has to be individualized with appropriate support- both in quantity and quality, and year-round. Poor transitioning results in disaster.
Transitioning seems to be a major weak point in our school system and faculty training. The teachers Joey has are, to be clear and honest, working their butts off trying to get his puzzle figured out and come up with appropriate solutions to support Joey. However, it is hard to think of solutions when you don't have sufficient understanding of or training in the problem. When one tends to focus on behavior rather than understanding communication and issues, everything becomes a problem of discipline. This can be reinforced when Joey can pull himself together enough to be functional when someone such as the principal or one of his old teachers comes into the room. That the distraction might give him extra incentive to swallow the frustration he is trying desperately to communicate is something that seems ignored, or at least unrecognized. How does one get teachers to recognize that my child is so overwhelming, he has shut down?
And in the meantime, what to do? I have a child so completely overwhelmed, his teachers feel the need to separate him, and have gotten to no academic work in five weeks. When I say this child has shut down, I mean he becomes so completely non-functional that he is removed to a 1:1 self-contained setting- and still gets nowhere. How do I help my child survive this problem of transition, this overwhelming new-ness, this bump on his road?
When the stress is overwhelming, what do you do? After all, shut-down is not an option for most folks who read this blog. We have to keep going, keep functioning. Our children are depending on us to be functional. We're not allowed to be tired and overwhelmed. How do we dive through anxiety, exhaustion, depression, and frustration, to come out the other side with smiles, clean clothes, and possibly a cooked dinner?
Tomorrow, we are going to the doctor with Joey. I haven't yet gotten him into a psychiatrist, so we are going to try a back door- our family physician- to see if there is anything we can do; in other words, we're exploring medication. This is a touchy subject, and I am sure I will get comments and emails, some in great detail, for both sides (pro and con); but sometimes you realize you are fast running out of options, and running out of time, and damage is being done. Sometimes you have to examine the options, so that educated, reasonable, and informed decisions can be made. If Joey continues to be overwhelmed and uncomfortable at school, we could go from bad to worse in a way that would be even more catastrophic.
We'll keep you posted.
P.S.: What she said. That's kind of my life right now.
Transitioning seems to be a major weak point in our school system and faculty training. The teachers Joey has are, to be clear and honest, working their butts off trying to get his puzzle figured out and come up with appropriate solutions to support Joey. However, it is hard to think of solutions when you don't have sufficient understanding of or training in the problem. When one tends to focus on behavior rather than understanding communication and issues, everything becomes a problem of discipline. This can be reinforced when Joey can pull himself together enough to be functional when someone such as the principal or one of his old teachers comes into the room. That the distraction might give him extra incentive to swallow the frustration he is trying desperately to communicate is something that seems ignored, or at least unrecognized. How does one get teachers to recognize that my child is so overwhelming, he has shut down?
And in the meantime, what to do? I have a child so completely overwhelmed, his teachers feel the need to separate him, and have gotten to no academic work in five weeks. When I say this child has shut down, I mean he becomes so completely non-functional that he is removed to a 1:1 self-contained setting- and still gets nowhere. How do I help my child survive this problem of transition, this overwhelming new-ness, this bump on his road?
When the stress is overwhelming, what do you do? After all, shut-down is not an option for most folks who read this blog. We have to keep going, keep functioning. Our children are depending on us to be functional. We're not allowed to be tired and overwhelmed. How do we dive through anxiety, exhaustion, depression, and frustration, to come out the other side with smiles, clean clothes, and possibly a cooked dinner?
Tomorrow, we are going to the doctor with Joey. I haven't yet gotten him into a psychiatrist, so we are going to try a back door- our family physician- to see if there is anything we can do; in other words, we're exploring medication. This is a touchy subject, and I am sure I will get comments and emails, some in great detail, for both sides (pro and con); but sometimes you realize you are fast running out of options, and running out of time, and damage is being done. Sometimes you have to examine the options, so that educated, reasonable, and informed decisions can be made. If Joey continues to be overwhelmed and uncomfortable at school, we could go from bad to worse in a way that would be even more catastrophic.
We'll keep you posted.
P.S.: What she said. That's kind of my life right now.
Sunday, October 03, 2010
And How Was Your Weekend?
Well, it's a good thing we went to the farm and had a hayride, so we could get this:
Because the rest of the weekend, we had this:
It may be a long week, folks.
Because the rest of the weekend, we had this:
It may be a long week, folks.
Friday, October 01, 2010
I think Andy likes his teacher.
Andy and I had a little chat about his teacher. Her name is Mrs. Woodfolk. Every now and again, we refer to Andy as an elf, fairy, or (more often) brownie, because he has that sparkly, elfish quality about him.
"So, Andy, how do you like your teacher?"
"Oh! She is named for the people who live in the woods, the Wood Folk! You know, fairies! Because she is one! Just like me!"
I think we may have a winner here.
"So, Andy, how do you like your teacher?"
"Oh! She is named for the people who live in the woods, the Wood Folk! You know, fairies! Because she is one! Just like me!"
I think we may have a winner here.
Meeting #5
Three IEPs, one meeting with the principal, and now one meeting with the Director of Student Services later...
Well, I think I made some things very clear today.
I think the school OT sucks, especially professionally.
Summer for Joey is going to look very very different from now on.
I know what a transition is, and everybody else better get on board with how it is done.
I expect people working with Joey to get some training in autism.
If this happens with the next school, I am going to have a conniption. I mean, a worse conniption.
But once again, by actions shall all be judged...
Well, I think I made some things very clear today.
I think the school OT sucks, especially professionally.
Summer for Joey is going to look very very different from now on.
I know what a transition is, and everybody else better get on board with how it is done.
I expect people working with Joey to get some training in autism.
If this happens with the next school, I am going to have a conniption. I mean, a worse conniption.
But once again, by actions shall all be judged...
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
We had a meeting.
Nothing makes you feel quite as much of an ineffective failure as an IEP meeting. I went in with a 31-slide presentation about Joey, a 3-page handout of concerns passed out a week before, and I came out with... a flip-flopped schedule. He'll go to math in the inclusion room, and language arts in the self-contained room.
Some things got said. The school OT insisted the IEP go back to consult-only because she "can't deal with his behaviors in 1:1". She's right. She can't. Because she doesn't have the skills to provide my child with appropriate OT. And I said so. I don't think I beat about the bush, either. I'm not happy because my child clearly is in desperate need of OT services, but this lady definitely does not have the skill set to provide them, and there is no other OT in the school. Is that clear enough?
We tossed around some strategies for dealing with Joey's issues, because I learned at this meeting that 3 weeks into the school year, and the inclusion folks have been able to do zero academics with him. The school folks asked how long it took for Joey to settle in at the last school. They were a bit unhappy when I noted he was settled in within a couple weeks there. We're not even close to settled here.
But in the end, what actually happened? We flipped his schedule. Woo. Hoo.
It may help. It may not. Im not sure they understood why they were doing it, just that it was a suggestion tossed out there to try.
I'm working on a follow-up letter. This is starting to get ugly.
Some things got said. The school OT insisted the IEP go back to consult-only because she "can't deal with his behaviors in 1:1". She's right. She can't. Because she doesn't have the skills to provide my child with appropriate OT. And I said so. I don't think I beat about the bush, either. I'm not happy because my child clearly is in desperate need of OT services, but this lady definitely does not have the skill set to provide them, and there is no other OT in the school. Is that clear enough?
We tossed around some strategies for dealing with Joey's issues, because I learned at this meeting that 3 weeks into the school year, and the inclusion folks have been able to do zero academics with him. The school folks asked how long it took for Joey to settle in at the last school. They were a bit unhappy when I noted he was settled in within a couple weeks there. We're not even close to settled here.
But in the end, what actually happened? We flipped his schedule. Woo. Hoo.
It may help. It may not. Im not sure they understood why they were doing it, just that it was a suggestion tossed out there to try.
I'm working on a follow-up letter. This is starting to get ugly.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
At the Fair
We arrive, all in one piece. Which is pretty good for us this year.
Watching the hog judging with Dad.
Looking out for Wilbur. The boys really enjoyed watching the pigs being judged. We actually watched two and the start of a third category in pig judging.
Hooray for the fair! I have a picture of my Dad and his Mom in this very same little cut-out.
Andy liked the rabbits.
Joey loved them, too. They're soft.
There was some unusual livestock, a few different breeds than we usually see- totally awesome.
We got to watch some sheep shearing, and there were plenty to pet this year.
Joey liked the 4-H projects, too.
Andy dreams of winning his own ribbons someday. And owning a bunny.
Joey and Andy both liked the alpacas. The alpacas were not too sure if the feeling was mutual, but Joey did get to touch one.
Time to get on the midway! Rides first, then games. But Mom doesn't do so well in taking pictures of playing games.
Joey on his Crazy Bus ride, one of his favorites.
Andy is still small enough to go on some of the kid rides, like the pony cart.
Joey went on the bumper cars, but got "stuck in traffic."
He liked the jalopies mostly because he could just sit and ride.
Andy liked them, too!
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Aftershocks: Follow-up
The boys are very excited that they are not going to school tomorrow. It is a half-day, so I am going to pull them both and go adventuring at the St. Mary's County Fair instead. Happy happy boys.
In talking to Andy, we do have a teasing issue at school, a child who was in his class last year. Fortunately, the child is not in his class, but apparently he sees him enough for it to be a problem. But I armed him. The child is calling Andy a silly name Andy doesn't like, so I told him to say he wasn't that name, and to say he was one he likes, even if it is silly. And if he kid insists on teasing him, informing the child he doesn't like that name and is going to go play with someone else, and turn his back firmly on the child. Andy's got enough to worry about, he should be spending his time with nice kids, not mean ones. I think Andy caught on.
No tears getting on the school bus today.
Joey is a little more complicated. He is saying he is all alone at school, that he has no friends. He relented and said there was a little girl who was friends with D, and that she was nice. But then it was right back to "its just me and Ms. A and Ms. C and Ms. W." The isolation is something I see a lot more with Joey, and it is all the more poignant because he loves people so- he wants to socialize. Also, I remember that feeling. It haunted me through most of my school years, and is likely to become a self-fullfilling idea. You can't force kids to socialize, and Joey is really running into roadblocks in initiating social contact. The anxiety about school isn't helping that.
Want to know why appropriate placement and service, including ESY, is so vital? Come look at my Joey.
In talking to Andy, we do have a teasing issue at school, a child who was in his class last year. Fortunately, the child is not in his class, but apparently he sees him enough for it to be a problem. But I armed him. The child is calling Andy a silly name Andy doesn't like, so I told him to say he wasn't that name, and to say he was one he likes, even if it is silly. And if he kid insists on teasing him, informing the child he doesn't like that name and is going to go play with someone else, and turn his back firmly on the child. Andy's got enough to worry about, he should be spending his time with nice kids, not mean ones. I think Andy caught on.
No tears getting on the school bus today.
Joey is a little more complicated. He is saying he is all alone at school, that he has no friends. He relented and said there was a little girl who was friends with D, and that she was nice. But then it was right back to "its just me and Ms. A and Ms. C and Ms. W." The isolation is something I see a lot more with Joey, and it is all the more poignant because he loves people so- he wants to socialize. Also, I remember that feeling. It haunted me through most of my school years, and is likely to become a self-fullfilling idea. You can't force kids to socialize, and Joey is really running into roadblocks in initiating social contact. The anxiety about school isn't helping that.
Want to know why appropriate placement and service, including ESY, is so vital? Come look at my Joey.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Aftershocks and Mysteries
Joey melted down yesterday morning because it was 38 degrees when he woke up and checked the weather. He bolted from the bus stop, running down the street with me hot on his heels, and him yelling, "Help! Help!" I'm actually interested to know why none of the neighbors who were giving me odd looks did not call the police, as they weren't folks we actually know. But, deep breath, they didn't, and I got him on the bus.
Is this just reverberations from summer? Or is there more going on at school? Or is there some need not being met here?
Today was Day Three of Andy bursting into tears upon the announced approach of his bus. He says he wants to stay home with Mom and watch TV. And I see we have a wet bed this morning, also three in a row.
Is this reverberations from trying to cope with Joey? Is there something going on at school? Is there a problem on the bus? Is there something he needs at home?
I stood in my livingroom a minute after I got them on the bus. I cleaned it up Thursday. It is already an explosion of Zhu Zhu pets, Star Wars figures. sundry detritus and pizza boxes, with my tubs of fabric stuck in the middle. School papers are scattered over the little table next to my chair. Wrappers from strawberry juice bars are on the floor. I can see the diningroom needs to be vacuumed, and is also a den of toys, used spiral notebooks, crayons, and unplayed games.
I was looking at card games in the store last night, after the boys were in bed while I was grocery shopping. There was one with dinosaurs. I looked hard at it. When I was six and eight, I loved games. Board games, card games, I was up early playing them by myself I loved them so. My boys don't play games. I try now and again. Joey liked Chutes and Ladders and Hi Ho Cherry-o for a while, but taking turns is a real challenge. Complicated rules and gameplay is another challenge. Instructions we find simple enough are a real hurdle for these guys. Maybe its time to have a family game night.
Is this just reverberations from summer? Or is there more going on at school? Or is there some need not being met here?
Today was Day Three of Andy bursting into tears upon the announced approach of his bus. He says he wants to stay home with Mom and watch TV. And I see we have a wet bed this morning, also three in a row.
Is this reverberations from trying to cope with Joey? Is there something going on at school? Is there a problem on the bus? Is there something he needs at home?
I stood in my livingroom a minute after I got them on the bus. I cleaned it up Thursday. It is already an explosion of Zhu Zhu pets, Star Wars figures. sundry detritus and pizza boxes, with my tubs of fabric stuck in the middle. School papers are scattered over the little table next to my chair. Wrappers from strawberry juice bars are on the floor. I can see the diningroom needs to be vacuumed, and is also a den of toys, used spiral notebooks, crayons, and unplayed games.
I was looking at card games in the store last night, after the boys were in bed while I was grocery shopping. There was one with dinosaurs. I looked hard at it. When I was six and eight, I loved games. Board games, card games, I was up early playing them by myself I loved them so. My boys don't play games. I try now and again. Joey liked Chutes and Ladders and Hi Ho Cherry-o for a while, but taking turns is a real challenge. Complicated rules and gameplay is another challenge. Instructions we find simple enough are a real hurdle for these guys. Maybe its time to have a family game night.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Monday! GAH!
So of course we're running behind, while I am having major cramps. I didn't go to the grocery yesterday because I had enough stuff to get us through one more day... but I came down o the kitchen to find the cats out of food and the bread had molded. As I raced around putting peanut butter crackers together, Joey's bus arrived... five minutes early. So this morning, we learned the value of five minutes.
Then Andy decided he wanted to stay home today, because none of his friends are in his class and he hates school and he wants to play outside with Mommy all day. I put him on the bus in tears.
The good news is that I should have some excellent photos next week- Friday is Fair Day! Yay, St. Mary's County Fair! Provided none of us are sick...
Gah!
Then Andy decided he wanted to stay home today, because none of his friends are in his class and he hates school and he wants to play outside with Mommy all day. I put him on the bus in tears.
The good news is that I should have some excellent photos next week- Friday is Fair Day! Yay, St. Mary's County Fair! Provided none of us are sick...
Gah!
Friday, September 17, 2010
Wow, is the week over yet?
It's been a long week.
Monday, I got a call from the principal about meeting to appeal the disciplinary action.
At eight am Tuesday morning, I had that meeting. The principal is a very likable person. He knew what he was supposed to say- things like, "we're here to support Joey" and "we want to work with you and want your input" and all that. "You can call me anytime." "Feel free to call IEP meetings." "Ill always be honest with you." Stuff like that. Always nice to hear.
By your actions shall you be judged.
There were several things said that were highly disturbing. Most prominently, the para in Joey's inclusion room has no training in nor experience with autistic children. This is the person who is supposed to be keeping Joey safe? Seriously, what are they thinking?
He informed me that though I was appealing the discipline referral, there was nothing to appeal. Even though the first level of discipline was implemented (conference with the child and call home), this was "just the school's process for documenting such incidents." Um... no. Discriminating against a child for their disability by "documenting" in the form of a discipline referral is absolute inappropriate and unacceptable. I'm working on exactly how I am going to make that clear, and to whom.
He seemed surprised about the push to place Joey in summer scholars, when I explained what he needed was a program to imitate what school would be like, with lots of structure. Yeah, I'm shocked, too. I knew we were uncomfortable, I told him we were uncomfortable, and made sure he was apprised of how much a disaster this was. Just shy of completely catastrophic, honestly.
The principal admitted he knew very little about autistic students, and suggested they hadn't had many. I informed him he needed to get prepared, here they come. Then he suggested Joey's high intelligence made him unusual as an autistic student. I pointed out another student I knew he had experience with, one who just left this person's school, as an apt comparison. He also admitted he hadn't seen Joey really, not gone into his classroom. I recommended he do so.
Then I had my lovely chart of concerns, and what I wanted done about them. I am working on a supplement for the actual IEP meeting. So he has something in writing about what I want done. Let's see what he does.
I sent in times for the week for an IEP meeting. No word on that. I am putting together a more formal letter requesting the meeting, lest they forget we have an emergency here!
Monday, I got a call from the principal about meeting to appeal the disciplinary action.
At eight am Tuesday morning, I had that meeting. The principal is a very likable person. He knew what he was supposed to say- things like, "we're here to support Joey" and "we want to work with you and want your input" and all that. "You can call me anytime." "Feel free to call IEP meetings." "Ill always be honest with you." Stuff like that. Always nice to hear.
By your actions shall you be judged.
There were several things said that were highly disturbing. Most prominently, the para in Joey's inclusion room has no training in nor experience with autistic children. This is the person who is supposed to be keeping Joey safe? Seriously, what are they thinking?
He informed me that though I was appealing the discipline referral, there was nothing to appeal. Even though the first level of discipline was implemented (conference with the child and call home), this was "just the school's process for documenting such incidents." Um... no. Discriminating against a child for their disability by "documenting" in the form of a discipline referral is absolute inappropriate and unacceptable. I'm working on exactly how I am going to make that clear, and to whom.
He seemed surprised about the push to place Joey in summer scholars, when I explained what he needed was a program to imitate what school would be like, with lots of structure. Yeah, I'm shocked, too. I knew we were uncomfortable, I told him we were uncomfortable, and made sure he was apprised of how much a disaster this was. Just shy of completely catastrophic, honestly.
The principal admitted he knew very little about autistic students, and suggested they hadn't had many. I informed him he needed to get prepared, here they come. Then he suggested Joey's high intelligence made him unusual as an autistic student. I pointed out another student I knew he had experience with, one who just left this person's school, as an apt comparison. He also admitted he hadn't seen Joey really, not gone into his classroom. I recommended he do so.
Then I had my lovely chart of concerns, and what I wanted done about them. I am working on a supplement for the actual IEP meeting. So he has something in writing about what I want done. Let's see what he does.
I sent in times for the week for an IEP meeting. No word on that. I am putting together a more formal letter requesting the meeting, lest they forget we have an emergency here!
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
Getting ducks in a row
If I was the kind of blogger that let language fly, I would be doing it right now. For about a page and a half.
Instead, I am scheduling another IEP meeting and arranging to dispute and appeal a disciplinary write-up. Joey had a sub this morning- both of his teachers needed to be at an IEP meeting for another child- and he ran into trouble. I cannot figure out the trigger, but he went into fight-flight, and couldn't get out of the room. So he melted down. Apparently it was somewhere between an 8 and a 9. He was sent to the office and officially written up, meeting with the vice principal some time after they managed to calm him down.
We're going in breathing fire.
When Joey has a meltdown here, I can guarantee you, I made a mistake. I failed to do something he needed, and I usually know better. I miss his cues, and he goes into tailspin. I raise my voice or use a trigger word (such as "quickly"), when I know I shouldn't. I fail to de-escalate a situation. I am the adult here, that is my responsibility.
If you think I'm going to hold the school to a lower standard- people who are supposed to be trained to deal with disabilities, including autism, on a far more formal level than I have been- you are very sadly mistaken. And you do not send a child to the office because you made a mistake.
In getting geared up for the battle, I found some helpful war paint to apply. A nice set-up for a chart to clarify the issues and how I am seeing things from this end. If you are headed into an IEP, you might want to check it out: Organizing Your Concerns.
Meanwhile, get out the drums. Mama Bear is getting ready for the battle ahead.
Week One, Almost Done
Good news- Joey is cheering up. As he figures out school is not like the summer program, he's really perking up. Yay!
We are taking Stimey's homework strategy and putting it to good use. It works perfectly (so far). I recommend it.
This morning I am snuggling my cat, then the plan is to clean the front hall, nap, cut some quilt squares, nap, lunch, nap, bake cookies, nap, then squish boys when they get off the bus. How's that for a rockin' day?
UPDATE 3:14pm. JOey had subs in his class today, and melted down- so they sent him to the office. GAH!!!
We are taking Stimey's homework strategy and putting it to good use. It works perfectly (so far). I recommend it.
This morning I am snuggling my cat, then the plan is to clean the front hall, nap, cut some quilt squares, nap, lunch, nap, bake cookies, nap, then squish boys when they get off the bus. How's that for a rockin' day?
UPDATE 3:14pm. JOey had subs in his class today, and melted down- so they sent him to the office. GAH!!!
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
First Day of School 2010
The bus was twenty minutes late.
I return from the hub-bub of excited parents and new kindergardeners, the din of fall meetings after summer vacations.
I enter the house, silent and still with no boys to bounce about.
I am still haunted by the words he wrote in his notebook to his teachers:
I have bad energy today I'm sorry
Why am I the one with butterflies in my stomach on the first day of school?
Post Script: Joey is on his beloved same bus with the driver he's had since he was 2. He was really happy to see her, and to see something familiar to start school.
I return from the hub-bub of excited parents and new kindergardeners, the din of fall meetings after summer vacations.
I enter the house, silent and still with no boys to bounce about.
I am still haunted by the words he wrote in his notebook to his teachers:
I have bad energy today I'm sorry
Why am I the one with butterflies in my stomach on the first day of school?
Post Script: Joey is on his beloved same bus with the driver he's had since he was 2. He was really happy to see her, and to see something familiar to start school.
Sunday, September 05, 2010
Yes, We're All Different
Tonight's story for Joey was Miss Rumphius. In case you are not familiar with the story, which I recommend, Miss Rumphius decides there are three things to do in life: see faraway places, retire to the seaside, and do something to make the world more beautiful.
The idea is to get kids to think about life and how to make the world beautiful. Joey, however, was more interested in the "seeing faraway places" part, and we talked about how Mommy had been to India. He was interested enough that I dug out a couple of my photo albums, but they weren't as interesting to him. Andy, however, popped in when he saw I had pictures, and was fascinated.
We looked through the pictures, then I settled him into bed, and he started asking lots of questions- about the pictures, and the sculptures there, and the people in the pictures. He wanted to know if everybody there was brown. So we talked about melatonin and how different people have different skin because their ancestors adapted to where they lived, and people who lived in sunny places needed to be darker, and we came from the north where it wasn't as sunny, so our skin is lighter. And we talked about tanning in the summer. And we talked about how people are different, simply because that is how they were made.
So he wanted to know other ways people were different.
"Well," I said, "we all like different things. Like some of us like peanut butter, and some of us don't."
"i don like peanu budder," he affirmed. "Wha else?"
"Well, some people are short and some are tall. That is just the way they are made."
"Yeth," he agreed. "An sthome kids are fastht, and some isth swow." I nodded. "I run fastht."
"Super fast," I agreed.
"An Joey isth diff-er-en."
Pause. Was this about to go where I think it is going to go?
"How is Joey different?" I asked.
"He no' like over kidsth," Andy frowned.
"You're right. We're all different. And Joey is different." Andy still frowned. "Joey is autistic," I added.
"Wha's 'ausisdic'?"
"It means he thinks differently than you do. He sees the world a little differently. And he has more trouble talking than you do." He still frowned.
"Wha do i have?" he asked, and I shrugged.
"Nothing. You're just not autistic." He still stewed. "Well, let's think of it this way. Most people have brains like... say, toasters. And they make toast really well. So your brain is a toaster, and it makes toast."
"Okay," he accepted the premise uneasily.
"Well, Joey's brain is more like a hair dryer. It heats stuff, and can even make toast, but it is a lot harder for him, because he isn't made to make toast, he is made to dry hair. And we need dry hair, so it's a good thing he's here." Andy frowned. "And some of us are ovens...."
"Wha's dat?"
"An oven? The thing we put cookies in to bake them. But not the best for making toast." Though I suppose that depends on how you like your toast. But let's not confuse the poor lad.
"And some people are... clothes dryers. So they can heat things up, too, but they do better drying clothes than making toast. But most people are toasters, and the world is geared to making toast." Yeah, I fumbled it. Just shoot me already.
"Thas funny," he giggled, thinking.
"There's lots of ways to be different," I offered as explanation. "And it's a good thing we're all different. It makes the world interesting. Things would be pretty boring if we were all alike. Some people like animals, and some like cars, and some have blues eyes, and some have brown. What color are your eyes?"
Instead of answering, he put a finger to one of my eyes.
"Yes, you have the same color as mine. What is it?" He signed blue, and looked tired. "That's right. Because that is just the way you are made. And handsome!" I kissed him, and he snuggled in, and fell asleep.
I have the feeling this is going to be a regular bedtime conversation.
The idea is to get kids to think about life and how to make the world beautiful. Joey, however, was more interested in the "seeing faraway places" part, and we talked about how Mommy had been to India. He was interested enough that I dug out a couple of my photo albums, but they weren't as interesting to him. Andy, however, popped in when he saw I had pictures, and was fascinated.
We looked through the pictures, then I settled him into bed, and he started asking lots of questions- about the pictures, and the sculptures there, and the people in the pictures. He wanted to know if everybody there was brown. So we talked about melatonin and how different people have different skin because their ancestors adapted to where they lived, and people who lived in sunny places needed to be darker, and we came from the north where it wasn't as sunny, so our skin is lighter. And we talked about tanning in the summer. And we talked about how people are different, simply because that is how they were made. So he wanted to know other ways people were different.
"Well," I said, "we all like different things. Like some of us like peanut butter, and some of us don't."
"i don like peanu budder," he affirmed. "Wha else?"
"Well, some people are short and some are tall. That is just the way they are made."
"Yeth," he agreed. "An sthome kids are fastht, and some isth swow." I nodded. "I run fastht."
"Super fast," I agreed.
"An Joey isth diff-er-en."
Pause. Was this about to go where I think it is going to go?
"How is Joey different?" I asked.
"He no' like over kidsth," Andy frowned.
"You're right. We're all different. And Joey is different." Andy still frowned. "Joey is autistic," I added.
"Wha's 'ausisdic'?"
"It means he thinks differently than you do. He sees the world a little differently. And he has more trouble talking than you do." He still frowned.
"Wha do i have?" he asked, and I shrugged.
"Nothing. You're just not autistic." He still stewed. "Well, let's think of it this way. Most people have brains like... say, toasters. And they make toast really well. So your brain is a toaster, and it makes toast."
"Okay," he accepted the premise uneasily.
"Well, Joey's brain is more like a hair dryer. It heats stuff, and can even make toast, but it is a lot harder for him, because he isn't made to make toast, he is made to dry hair. And we need dry hair, so it's a good thing he's here." Andy frowned. "And some of us are ovens...."
"Wha's dat?"
"An oven? The thing we put cookies in to bake them. But not the best for making toast." Though I suppose that depends on how you like your toast. But let's not confuse the poor lad.
"And some people are... clothes dryers. So they can heat things up, too, but they do better drying clothes than making toast. But most people are toasters, and the world is geared to making toast." Yeah, I fumbled it. Just shoot me already.
"Thas funny," he giggled, thinking.
"There's lots of ways to be different," I offered as explanation. "And it's a good thing we're all different. It makes the world interesting. Things would be pretty boring if we were all alike. Some people like animals, and some like cars, and some have blues eyes, and some have brown. What color are your eyes?"
Instead of answering, he put a finger to one of my eyes.
"Yes, you have the same color as mine. What is it?" He signed blue, and looked tired. "That's right. Because that is just the way you are made. And handsome!" I kissed him, and he snuggled in, and fell asleep.
I have the feeling this is going to be a regular bedtime conversation.
Friday, September 03, 2010
Signed, Sealed, Delivery on Tuesday.
So we signed all the paperwork to make sure there is always someone in the room in case Joey attempts to escape it. They kept not wanting to have a para with him in specials (art, music, etc.), but I won't have it these first few weeks. "They can lock the door" is not an acceptable answer. You expect the teacher to deal with the meltdown when he finds that door locked? What if there is a fire? The tradeoff is that for the same first few weeks, he will be self-contained half the day, so he can be in small groups or 1:1 instruction while he transitions. We'll start moving him back into the inclusion room after a few weeks.
Then, unbeknownst to them unless they read this blog, I am going to start asking questions about LRE and moving him into "regular" classrooms. Because you know what? That is where we was before. The sped-centered environment is a step backward, a regression from being with his non-disabled peers in supportive environments. Our school system fills "inclusion rooms" with kids who are borderline for services as their "non-disabled" kids- kids that really should need service, but they have issues of clear documentation of needs, because they don't have a "25% delay" in anything specific and measurable.
Andy is a great kid for an inclusion room. He has speech issues that are being otherwise ignored, he had focus and attention issues that are met by the structure required in inclusion environments even though he is technically not receiving accommodation or service, yet he has the academic and social skill strengths to really support his classmates, as well as experience with disabled peers. To push him into a faster-paced, distraction-filled environment would really... well, prove he has issues.
Yet it is into that "mainstream" that both boys must eventually go, like it or not. One day, they will graduate. The world is not full of special needs classrooms.
And you know what? I want those kids in "mainstream" and "regular" classrooms to have to meet and cope with people like Joey and Andy. They need to learn what it means to be tolerant, to appreciate people's strengths and talents, and to therefore appreciate their own foibles, their own talents, their own abilities- to learn what it really means to live in a positive, constructive community.
On Tuesday, Joey will start school with a lot of quiet spaces and an ever-present lifeguard. Andy will start in a structured room with only 15 classmates. Here's hoping everybody- including you- has a fabulous year. Happy Fall!
Then, unbeknownst to them unless they read this blog, I am going to start asking questions about LRE and moving him into "regular" classrooms. Because you know what? That is where we was before. The sped-centered environment is a step backward, a regression from being with his non-disabled peers in supportive environments. Our school system fills "inclusion rooms" with kids who are borderline for services as their "non-disabled" kids- kids that really should need service, but they have issues of clear documentation of needs, because they don't have a "25% delay" in anything specific and measurable.
Andy is a great kid for an inclusion room. He has speech issues that are being otherwise ignored, he had focus and attention issues that are met by the structure required in inclusion environments even though he is technically not receiving accommodation or service, yet he has the academic and social skill strengths to really support his classmates, as well as experience with disabled peers. To push him into a faster-paced, distraction-filled environment would really... well, prove he has issues.
Yet it is into that "mainstream" that both boys must eventually go, like it or not. One day, they will graduate. The world is not full of special needs classrooms.
And you know what? I want those kids in "mainstream" and "regular" classrooms to have to meet and cope with people like Joey and Andy. They need to learn what it means to be tolerant, to appreciate people's strengths and talents, and to therefore appreciate their own foibles, their own talents, their own abilities- to learn what it really means to live in a positive, constructive community.
On Tuesday, Joey will start school with a lot of quiet spaces and an ever-present lifeguard. Andy will start in a structured room with only 15 classmates. Here's hoping everybody- including you- has a fabulous year. Happy Fall!
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
School Changes and New Teachers
Well, when you have a child who suddenly dashes out the door, the best thing to do is call the school in blind panic and in tears, with words like, "bolting", "safety issue", and "HELP!!!!"
OK, seriously, we had one of those meetings I was hoping would never happen today: the one where you discuss what to do with your child who fright-flights into the street when his school is 1. new and 2. near a major highway. The school doesn't like these meetings, either, because it screams "potential safety hazard". One thing school folks want, it's safe kids.
I spent the morning basically crying, reading over the letters I had from the OT and thinking about the incidents we've had this summer, and basically panicking. BUt I pulled myself together, got the children fed, and headed out with both in tow to the school to get this sorted out. I want Joey's first real day at this school to be far better than anything he had over the summer. And I want him to be safe from Day One.
I learned a few things. For one, Joey has been moved to a different set of teachers than we originally planned. I really liked them. They asked a lot of good questions, made a lot of intelligent and meaningful comments, and kept things really focused on what would be best for Joey from all fronts- academically, socially, and of course, his safety. Ms. H came, mostly because I begged her to help because I wanted somebody I really trusted in that room. This is not an issue to tackle in a room full of people you don't know, I can tell you. She always says very important things, and sticks with realities. This is good, because our admin person was a little bit panicked and suggesting we put Joey in self-contained sped, with much "assurances" that kids "don't get bored here." But the reality is that the vast majority of kids in self-contained environments need them not just for behavior, but for academics; and being a restrictive environment, Joey wouldn't have the kind of contact with his peers that he had before. In other words, it would be a serious setback, and mark a major regression.
But then, this is a major regression and serious setback.
However, the committee prevailed in understanding that Joey's needs and goals were best met in the inclusion environment, so another solution had to be considered: a 1:1 aide. The admin tore out of the room when she knew this was the direction we were heading. An aide in this system is like the Holy Grail of Services (we already have the other Holy Grail of Services: ESY). Aides are expensive, and you can't just stick anybody in a classroom and call them a para; and a 1:1 needs to click with the student. It is something they avoid like the plague.
However, sometimes you find yourself here, with the aide on the table. Joey needs to be in a safe environment, and that means he needs a lifeguard in the room- one dedicated to his needs, and ready to take to their heels when he does. We should have the paperwork done in the next 48 hours.
Next on the agenda was showing joey his classrooms. We visited his homeroom (which will be the resource room, since we are now thinking the cafeteria isn't a safe place for him to eat, with all the noise). Ms. J runs that room, and served as one of his aides over the summer. She seems cool, and I think she's the case manager now. Then we went for a stroll with one of his new teachers, saw her classroom, as well as the regular-ed teacher's classroom (they split the class up for small groups; the rooms are across the hall from each other). He started getting antsy, so we decided it was time to go. The teacher was walking us back to the office (where the main door is), getting to know Joey a little. I stopped to thank Ms. J, and ran into another teacher I knew and said hello.
I glanced down the hall to the boys and the teacher, now well ahead of me. Beyond them was a stairwell, and a glass door to the outside. They were framed there, haloed silhouettes against the bright sunlight streaming through the glass into the much darker hall. And there was frozen moment, when you know what you are seeing is not right. The teacher was calling his name. He was headed to that door. Andy called. I called. He was still moving toward the door. I broke into a run. So did the teacher- right out of her shoes, to run the faster.
I must say, I was totally impressed. She caught him outside. But it was the speed and efficiency of her action that really caught my eye. She wasted no time- she was already on the move when she called his name. She knew she couldn't run in those shoes, and they were off her feet without breaking stride. The instant understanding of the danger, and the effort made to help my child were, to be honest, stunning.
I hope we all expect each and every teacher who works with our children to do no less; yet I remain grateful to see caring in action. Combined with the efforts and comments she put forth in the meeting, I say we're in for a good year, or at least have the best opportunity possible for one. I think we're oriented now.
OK, seriously, we had one of those meetings I was hoping would never happen today: the one where you discuss what to do with your child who fright-flights into the street when his school is 1. new and 2. near a major highway. The school doesn't like these meetings, either, because it screams "potential safety hazard". One thing school folks want, it's safe kids.
I spent the morning basically crying, reading over the letters I had from the OT and thinking about the incidents we've had this summer, and basically panicking. BUt I pulled myself together, got the children fed, and headed out with both in tow to the school to get this sorted out. I want Joey's first real day at this school to be far better than anything he had over the summer. And I want him to be safe from Day One.
I learned a few things. For one, Joey has been moved to a different set of teachers than we originally planned. I really liked them. They asked a lot of good questions, made a lot of intelligent and meaningful comments, and kept things really focused on what would be best for Joey from all fronts- academically, socially, and of course, his safety. Ms. H came, mostly because I begged her to help because I wanted somebody I really trusted in that room. This is not an issue to tackle in a room full of people you don't know, I can tell you. She always says very important things, and sticks with realities. This is good, because our admin person was a little bit panicked and suggesting we put Joey in self-contained sped, with much "assurances" that kids "don't get bored here." But the reality is that the vast majority of kids in self-contained environments need them not just for behavior, but for academics; and being a restrictive environment, Joey wouldn't have the kind of contact with his peers that he had before. In other words, it would be a serious setback, and mark a major regression.
But then, this is a major regression and serious setback.
However, the committee prevailed in understanding that Joey's needs and goals were best met in the inclusion environment, so another solution had to be considered: a 1:1 aide. The admin tore out of the room when she knew this was the direction we were heading. An aide in this system is like the Holy Grail of Services (we already have the other Holy Grail of Services: ESY). Aides are expensive, and you can't just stick anybody in a classroom and call them a para; and a 1:1 needs to click with the student. It is something they avoid like the plague.
However, sometimes you find yourself here, with the aide on the table. Joey needs to be in a safe environment, and that means he needs a lifeguard in the room- one dedicated to his needs, and ready to take to their heels when he does. We should have the paperwork done in the next 48 hours.
Next on the agenda was showing joey his classrooms. We visited his homeroom (which will be the resource room, since we are now thinking the cafeteria isn't a safe place for him to eat, with all the noise). Ms. J runs that room, and served as one of his aides over the summer. She seems cool, and I think she's the case manager now. Then we went for a stroll with one of his new teachers, saw her classroom, as well as the regular-ed teacher's classroom (they split the class up for small groups; the rooms are across the hall from each other). He started getting antsy, so we decided it was time to go. The teacher was walking us back to the office (where the main door is), getting to know Joey a little. I stopped to thank Ms. J, and ran into another teacher I knew and said hello.
I glanced down the hall to the boys and the teacher, now well ahead of me. Beyond them was a stairwell, and a glass door to the outside. They were framed there, haloed silhouettes against the bright sunlight streaming through the glass into the much darker hall. And there was frozen moment, when you know what you are seeing is not right. The teacher was calling his name. He was headed to that door. Andy called. I called. He was still moving toward the door. I broke into a run. So did the teacher- right out of her shoes, to run the faster.
I must say, I was totally impressed. She caught him outside. But it was the speed and efficiency of her action that really caught my eye. She wasted no time- she was already on the move when she called his name. She knew she couldn't run in those shoes, and they were off her feet without breaking stride. The instant understanding of the danger, and the effort made to help my child were, to be honest, stunning.
I hope we all expect each and every teacher who works with our children to do no less; yet I remain grateful to see caring in action. Combined with the efforts and comments she put forth in the meeting, I say we're in for a good year, or at least have the best opportunity possible for one. I think we're oriented now.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
A Stroll Down the Road
It was Joey's turn for a break, a quick stay at Grandma's. Joey did great. Grandma's house is nice and quiet, and Grandma is particularly good at letting Joey take life at his own pace. He played in Grandma's truck and with her new cat, take a nice bath, and had a generally good time. I arrived nice and early to take him home after his breakfast, as he prefers. We were worried he might get anxious, but everything seemed great. Grandma put Wubbzy on the TV via Netflix/Roku so we could review the visit and talk about the upcoming school meeting.
Unfortunately, the connection out there s a little slow right now for reasons unknown. Every few minutes, the movie was interrupted to "load." The third time, he ran for the door (leaving it open enough for the new cat to sneak in).
I was prepared. When Joey runs at Grandma's, he runs for the car; so I left the doors unlocked and a toy for him to calm down. I cut off the conversation, packed up Joey's bag, helped mom put the cat out, said goodbye, and headed for the car. I put the bag in, looked in the back seat with a friendly greeting, and...
No Joey.
He wasn't in the back of Grandma's truck. He wasn't in the garage. He wasn't answering to my calls. I ran back to the house, shouted into the door that Joey was gone, and ran down the driveway. Whenever I could get him to take a walk at Grandma's, he always preferred to stay on the driveway- a nice, clear line and path to follow. I made it to the circle, and down the road a little way, with no sign of him. I turned and ran back to Mom's. Maybe she had found him, he was just hiding in the back bedroom, or behind the house.
"You you have him?" she called as I appeared. No, I don't. I don't have him. He's gone.
Those are not words you want echoing through your head.
I hopped into the car. "Keep calling," I said, I suppose to my mom, "I'm going to see if he followed the road." I started down the road, watching the woods to either side, for any sign of him, praying he had gone this way, and not into the woods to the river. Please be on the road. Please be on the road. Please be on the road.
He had gotten about 3/4 of a mile down the road. I turned the corner and saw him, and he looked glad to see the car. He was hot, tired, and scared. He had probably met a number of dogs along the way, which would have sent him into more panic, and sped him along the road. If I had tried to continue to look for him on foot, he would have gotten out to the main road, and we would have been in more serious trouble. All the way back to Grandma's, he told me how he had gotten off the road whenever a car had come.
We got a lot of hugs when we got back to Grandma's. And a drink. And more hugs. And now I have him home, with our double-key locks, set up with his computer and his brother. And I'm looking up GPS.
Unfortunately, the connection out there s a little slow right now for reasons unknown. Every few minutes, the movie was interrupted to "load." The third time, he ran for the door (leaving it open enough for the new cat to sneak in).
I was prepared. When Joey runs at Grandma's, he runs for the car; so I left the doors unlocked and a toy for him to calm down. I cut off the conversation, packed up Joey's bag, helped mom put the cat out, said goodbye, and headed for the car. I put the bag in, looked in the back seat with a friendly greeting, and...
No Joey.
He wasn't in the back of Grandma's truck. He wasn't in the garage. He wasn't answering to my calls. I ran back to the house, shouted into the door that Joey was gone, and ran down the driveway. Whenever I could get him to take a walk at Grandma's, he always preferred to stay on the driveway- a nice, clear line and path to follow. I made it to the circle, and down the road a little way, with no sign of him. I turned and ran back to Mom's. Maybe she had found him, he was just hiding in the back bedroom, or behind the house.
"You you have him?" she called as I appeared. No, I don't. I don't have him. He's gone.
Those are not words you want echoing through your head.
I hopped into the car. "Keep calling," I said, I suppose to my mom, "I'm going to see if he followed the road." I started down the road, watching the woods to either side, for any sign of him, praying he had gone this way, and not into the woods to the river. Please be on the road. Please be on the road. Please be on the road.
He had gotten about 3/4 of a mile down the road. I turned the corner and saw him, and he looked glad to see the car. He was hot, tired, and scared. He had probably met a number of dogs along the way, which would have sent him into more panic, and sped him along the road. If I had tried to continue to look for him on foot, he would have gotten out to the main road, and we would have been in more serious trouble. All the way back to Grandma's, he told me how he had gotten off the road whenever a car had come.
We got a lot of hugs when we got back to Grandma's. And a drink. And more hugs. And now I have him home, with our double-key locks, set up with his computer and his brother. And I'm looking up GPS.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Painfully Obvious
There are those moments in life when you not only realize your mistakes, understand the real consequences of them, and know without a doubt that you are, at the core, a bumbling idiot; those consequences are presented to you in such a way that makes them so palpably and undeniably real, that you wonder how on earth you could be such a bumbling idiot and know that there are some mistakes you can't go back and really fix. It is in those moments that you know that people do really depend upon you, and that sometimes, you let them down; and it is in those moments that screaming is probably the only appropriate response- even those in that moment, that is the one thing you can never do.
One of those moments came at us on highway 50 on the way home from Ocean City. We're damn lucky it didn't come at us at 55 miles an hour, because somebody would have been seriously hurt.
When Joey's ESY meeting was held, and we saw the options, we saw no good ones. We settled for placing Joey in the summer enrichment program designed for regular ed students with an aide, with the "everything's going to be fine speech" tossed in, and then 2 weeks of OT tacked on. We could have sent him to a camp an hour away with a trip home in heavy traffic. That was kind of our only other option, and that would have replaced the OT, not the Summer Scholars. They were dead set on putting him into that summer scholars thing.
We weren't comfortable. We had been told there might be 40 kids in the class, but "everything will be OK, because there will be two teachers, and we'll transition Joey to the new school and new teachers" by having two weeks with the old para, then two weeks with one of the new special ed folks each week. The realities of the program were that it was a large, noisy group with two field trips a week- one in-town, one in Richmond- our para got usurped by another special ed student who was put into the program as a regular participant, most of the kids seemed to shun Joey whenever I saw him and were unfamiliar to him. We already were having increased anxiety issues as Joey realized he was going to be in a new school and not have his same teacher and para anymore- the point of putting him in the program was to decrease that anxiety, not increase it. The reality was instant and dramatic increase in anxiety, depression, and the associated behaviors such as bolting and self deprecation.
When we saw the increase the first week, we were told he was getting settled, give him more time. I should have pulled him.
When he really freaked out the second week, we sang our own praises in figuring out the CD player and getting him through the long field trip and the noisy days. I should have pulled him.
In the third week, when I got the note from the new aide that Joey was having trouble, but that she was sure "Everything would be OK", I should have pulled him.
By the fourth week, it was too late. I should have pulled him anyway. By then he was bolting almost daily, sometimes multiple times in a day. At any frustration, he was saying he was a bad person, he couldn't be a good boy, and that no one liked him. He was saying that people thought he was ugly and mean, but he was really a nice boy. He was saying he was stupid and clumsy and he waned to die so Andy could have a little sister. He wanted to break things, he wanted to kill me (when I didn't give him his way), he wanted to kill Andy (when Andy was annoying him), he wanted to die. Everything was most definitely not OK.
The beach trip he looks forward to every year was a series of struggles to get him to do anything new, sprinkled with familiar favorites to coax him out of the hotel room- some of which failed to do so. He was bolting there, too. Do you know how hard it is to lock a hotel room door from the inside, to keep someone in?
Then, just before the bridge on our way home, it happened. He was frustrated, tired, annoyed, hungry, cramped in the car, feeling the anxiety of heading home and who knows what else was exploding in that head of his. He was done, he was leaving, goodbye! And he opened the door.
Fortunately, we were in a traffic jam, so the car wasn't moving very fast, but folks, it was fast enough. A sharp cry from me got him to close the door, and JoeyAndyDad found a place to get off the road pretty quick. We engaged the child safety locks, got everyone calmed down, and started off again.
I dont think I need to go into the "might have" situations here. Thank God, none of them happened, we just got the door shut, the locks engaged, and no one was injured in the process. The tacked on OT turned quickly into a blessing these lat two weeks, as Miss Lisa got to see what has occurred, and put together a brilliantly clear letter about the issue of bolting and that this is a dramatic and new behavior, as well as the self- deprecation issues. On Tuesday, I get to sketch out the consequences of not providing Joey with appropriate ESY.
I get to look straight into the face of the consequences of not holding my ground and fighting, every single day. This is what happens when I fail him.
One of those moments came at us on highway 50 on the way home from Ocean City. We're damn lucky it didn't come at us at 55 miles an hour, because somebody would have been seriously hurt.
When Joey's ESY meeting was held, and we saw the options, we saw no good ones. We settled for placing Joey in the summer enrichment program designed for regular ed students with an aide, with the "everything's going to be fine speech" tossed in, and then 2 weeks of OT tacked on. We could have sent him to a camp an hour away with a trip home in heavy traffic. That was kind of our only other option, and that would have replaced the OT, not the Summer Scholars. They were dead set on putting him into that summer scholars thing.
We weren't comfortable. We had been told there might be 40 kids in the class, but "everything will be OK, because there will be two teachers, and we'll transition Joey to the new school and new teachers" by having two weeks with the old para, then two weeks with one of the new special ed folks each week. The realities of the program were that it was a large, noisy group with two field trips a week- one in-town, one in Richmond- our para got usurped by another special ed student who was put into the program as a regular participant, most of the kids seemed to shun Joey whenever I saw him and were unfamiliar to him. We already were having increased anxiety issues as Joey realized he was going to be in a new school and not have his same teacher and para anymore- the point of putting him in the program was to decrease that anxiety, not increase it. The reality was instant and dramatic increase in anxiety, depression, and the associated behaviors such as bolting and self deprecation.
When we saw the increase the first week, we were told he was getting settled, give him more time. I should have pulled him.
When he really freaked out the second week, we sang our own praises in figuring out the CD player and getting him through the long field trip and the noisy days. I should have pulled him.
In the third week, when I got the note from the new aide that Joey was having trouble, but that she was sure "Everything would be OK", I should have pulled him.
By the fourth week, it was too late. I should have pulled him anyway. By then he was bolting almost daily, sometimes multiple times in a day. At any frustration, he was saying he was a bad person, he couldn't be a good boy, and that no one liked him. He was saying that people thought he was ugly and mean, but he was really a nice boy. He was saying he was stupid and clumsy and he waned to die so Andy could have a little sister. He wanted to break things, he wanted to kill me (when I didn't give him his way), he wanted to kill Andy (when Andy was annoying him), he wanted to die. Everything was most definitely not OK.
The beach trip he looks forward to every year was a series of struggles to get him to do anything new, sprinkled with familiar favorites to coax him out of the hotel room- some of which failed to do so. He was bolting there, too. Do you know how hard it is to lock a hotel room door from the inside, to keep someone in?
Then, just before the bridge on our way home, it happened. He was frustrated, tired, annoyed, hungry, cramped in the car, feeling the anxiety of heading home and who knows what else was exploding in that head of his. He was done, he was leaving, goodbye! And he opened the door.
Fortunately, we were in a traffic jam, so the car wasn't moving very fast, but folks, it was fast enough. A sharp cry from me got him to close the door, and JoeyAndyDad found a place to get off the road pretty quick. We engaged the child safety locks, got everyone calmed down, and started off again.
I dont think I need to go into the "might have" situations here. Thank God, none of them happened, we just got the door shut, the locks engaged, and no one was injured in the process. The tacked on OT turned quickly into a blessing these lat two weeks, as Miss Lisa got to see what has occurred, and put together a brilliantly clear letter about the issue of bolting and that this is a dramatic and new behavior, as well as the self- deprecation issues. On Tuesday, I get to sketch out the consequences of not providing Joey with appropriate ESY.
I get to look straight into the face of the consequences of not holding my ground and fighting, every single day. This is what happens when I fail him.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Nature Adventure
The other failed attempt to get Joey to a boat ride was our now-traditional Assateague Adventure, the boat ride out to the island to get your feet sandy looking for nonexistant seashells. I didn't really blame him this round. JoeyAndyDad wanted to sleep in, a luxury equated with things like hot showers and glasses of wine to many of us, and the boys were up and bouncy. We had a coupon, and I thought if I managed to shuffle the boys out, the other adults could have a nice, quiet morning. But then Joey staunchly refused to go, so he got to stay in the room with Dad, and Grandma came with us on our adventure. In the rain.
Fortunately, it wasn't pouring, but it was grey, misty, damp, and by the end, definitely raining.
As usual, we took a ride through the fishing docks to look at the boats, then out to the island. In past years, we've had really good sightings of the ponies. This time, we learned that ponies are smart, and know not to wander around scrubby little points of island in the rain. So we grabbed our net and went ashore, where Andy promptly ran off and mixed with the tons of other people who had come. There was an unusually high tide, so there wasn't a lot of space in the area we were permitted to wander on (much of the island is protected, so you can't just roam anywhere).
We did manage to see a hermit crab, and Andy found some bluecrab shells that were probably shed by growing crabs. One very excited young woman actually caught a small fish in her net, so Andy got very happy about seeing a real live fish in a net. Mostly he liked wading around with the other people and trying to catch stuff and talk at the same time. He actually got a bit grumpy because he didn't get to catch a live crab or fish himself. 
He did, however, catch himself some seaweed. And insisted we take the crab shells home. They're downstairs somewhere... Then the rain started rolling in at a decent clip, and we washed off our feet and got back on the boat for the ride back to port.
On the way back, the guide shows off aquatic life, having the kids help by showing live creatures to the rest of the audience. We got to see spider crabs, whelks, clams, starfish, and a horseshoe crab. Andy got to help with the starfish. He was a good helper, and very proud of himself. He really liked the excursion, despite it not having toys or pirate gold involved. Unfortunately, the picture they take when you get on the boat, we didn't get to buy, because the guy can't print and stuff in the rain.
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