So I got a note from Mrs. C. Remember how she left the question box up in case anyone else had questions? Well, apparently someone put a note in the question box.
It read: "Joey IS a good friend!"
Toasters and hair dryers. They can live in harmony.
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Many Angles
One thing I love about friends and friendship is that we don't always agree. Connecting with people, for me, is about having new eyes to look at the world and new views of experience, and sharing them. I don't mind if we disagree, even on some very big issues. There is nothing so much fun as having involved conversations where I present my evidence and views, and get to hear and see someone else's, even if I don't agree.
Apparently, I am very weird.
I have some really excellent, intelligent friends. I love to talk about religion, and politics (though that is harder for me, because I always feel like I should more information). If we vary so very widely and vehemently that it would cause a problem, I'm probably not friends with you (for example, I don't believe you have the right to kill another person for any reason, though I will tolerate a difference in opinion as to defining "person"- but you probably aren't going to change my mind about my own definition). It sometimes takes me by surprise that others are shocked that I don't agree with them, or see the world a they do. For example, I was having a conversation with a friend the other morning, and she suddenly interpreted something I said as a personal comment. When I thought about it, I realized how I said what I said could very well be taken personally if you were taking the whole conversation very personally- and I apologized. I didn't mean it as personal, and I didn't want to hurt my friend's feelings; I just was trying to get a good look at her point of view, since we have very different political views and values, and she has a lot of information about her views that gives me something to think about (after all, media outlets all have their biases...) But I was surprised to realize that to her, it was personal. To me, it was just a discussion of possibilities, problems, and various possible solutions.
Religion is another topic I love that gets me into trouble. The fact that I am religious is potentially offensive to some folks. The fact that I don't take any religious narrative dead-set literally is very offensive to some other folks. Religion, by its very nature, tends to be interpreted personally. Take my post about how I believe in Santa Claus. What a variety of responses, opinions, and attitudes I got, and not just in the comment section! My head spun, especially with how personally so many people took the whole post... which missed the whole point.
To me, such conversations help get you thinking. It allows for connections, weaving thoughts and information together with a focus on a topic or hypothesis. To draw on a myriad of sources, thoughts, facts, and observations is the whole point of having discussions. You can't do that if everybody agrees with you all the time. Well, not very well. How would you really learn anything?
Apparently, I am very weird.
I have some really excellent, intelligent friends. I love to talk about religion, and politics (though that is harder for me, because I always feel like I should more information). If we vary so very widely and vehemently that it would cause a problem, I'm probably not friends with you (for example, I don't believe you have the right to kill another person for any reason, though I will tolerate a difference in opinion as to defining "person"- but you probably aren't going to change my mind about my own definition). It sometimes takes me by surprise that others are shocked that I don't agree with them, or see the world a they do. For example, I was having a conversation with a friend the other morning, and she suddenly interpreted something I said as a personal comment. When I thought about it, I realized how I said what I said could very well be taken personally if you were taking the whole conversation very personally- and I apologized. I didn't mean it as personal, and I didn't want to hurt my friend's feelings; I just was trying to get a good look at her point of view, since we have very different political views and values, and she has a lot of information about her views that gives me something to think about (after all, media outlets all have their biases...) But I was surprised to realize that to her, it was personal. To me, it was just a discussion of possibilities, problems, and various possible solutions.
Religion is another topic I love that gets me into trouble. The fact that I am religious is potentially offensive to some folks. The fact that I don't take any religious narrative dead-set literally is very offensive to some other folks. Religion, by its very nature, tends to be interpreted personally. Take my post about how I believe in Santa Claus. What a variety of responses, opinions, and attitudes I got, and not just in the comment section! My head spun, especially with how personally so many people took the whole post... which missed the whole point.
To me, such conversations help get you thinking. It allows for connections, weaving thoughts and information together with a focus on a topic or hypothesis. To draw on a myriad of sources, thoughts, facts, and observations is the whole point of having discussions. You can't do that if everybody agrees with you all the time. Well, not very well. How would you really learn anything?
Saturday, February 26, 2011
A Good Copy
Joey is studying animals at school. He was very fond of "herbivore", "carnivore", and "omnivore" the day I went to observe him at school. They now have moved on to include adaptations: hibernation, migration, camouflage, and mimicry.
One way they help the kids learn this stuff is to have them make "flip books." When I went in to give my little presentation, some of the books were posted on the wall. Here is Joey's:
Translation:
Hibernation*****Migration***** Camouflage*****Mimicry
***Bear**********caterpillar*****rattlesnake****Wiley Coyote
One way they help the kids learn this stuff is to have them make "flip books." When I went in to give my little presentation, some of the books were posted on the wall. Here is Joey's:
Translation:
Hibernation*****Migration***** Camouflage*****Mimicry
***Bear**********caterpillar*****rattlesnake****Wiley Coyote
A Big Welcome: Hello, Doughnut!
My mom has a new cat. He showed up at the house and just kept sitting on her porch, staring in. So one very cold night, she decided to let him in. And fed him. And that, my friends, is how you adopt a cat.
His Majesty immediately took charge of the catless house and made it his own kingdom. So Mom asked Andy what his name should be. And Andy came up with the best thing he could think of: Doughnut. And that is what happens when you ask a 6-year-old to name your cat.
He now has thoroughly installed himself in the house and in our hearts. So welcome, Doughnut. All hail the King.
His Majesty immediately took charge of the catless house and made it his own kingdom. So Mom asked Andy what his name should be. And Andy came up with the best thing he could think of: Doughnut. And that is what happens when you ask a 6-year-old to name your cat.
He now has thoroughly installed himself in the house and in our hearts. So welcome, Doughnut. All hail the King.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Answering the Big Questions
So today I put a toaster and a hair dryer into a duffel bag and headed to Joey's school. I think it went OK. The room was both Joey's inclusion class and his self-contained friends, minus Joey and his friend D, who is also autistic. We talked about toast and drying hair and the fact that Joey is learning about toasters just as they were learning about hair dryers. We talked about the fact that Joey was born a hair dryer, and that you can't turn toasters into hair dryers or hair dryers into toasters, that hair dryers are not "sick". We talked about communication, and anxiety, and things Joey doesn't do well that his classmates think nothing of doing, and things Joey does well (en chorus: "MATH!"), and how one might cope with anxiety and fear when one cannot speak well. We talked about Joey's need for consistency and predictability, and why he might not like sudden movements or loud noise. We talked abut echolalia and ways Joey copes with his world using sound and behavior. We talked about how autism affects Joey (such as speech, movement, and being able to make friends), and how it doesn't (such as intelligence and desire to make friends). We talked about how important they, as Joey's friends and classmates, are to Joey. We talked about why he is good at math and spelling and video games. We talked about why he sometimes needed a break away from people or in a room with a computer. We even had a young lady decide she was curling iron.
One of the Big Questions was "Does autism hurt?" It isn't a question I have a ready answer to. I don't know the answer. Does it hurt? How do you define "hurt"? Does being overwhelmed and uncomfortable "hurt"? Does constant frustration "hurt"? When Joey processes sensory stimuli differently, it could very well hurt. He talks about not liking to read because it "hurts." I didn't give a straight answer, but instead talked about ways Joey may feel things and understand things differently than other people. We talked about how it might feel to be overwhelmed all the time. We even talked about what "overwhelmed" means. We talked about how Joey uses language and words, and what it could mean when he says something "hurts." It isn't a yes or no question, really.
One of the kids asked if Joey took medication. Mrs. C and I explained that Joey does not take medication for autism, he takes medication for anxiety; that is, he had medicine that keeps him from feeling scared and overwhelmed all the time. Another question was what happens when he doesn't take his medication; and we noted he would be grumpy and anxious, so they would likely notice. However, most people feel grumpy or anxious sometimes, anyway. But it is a hard question to answer; how much do you reveal about Joey without him knowing you are telling people? What will third graders do with this information? Will they tell him to take medicine every time he gets grumpy?
The the biggest question was what to do about all the unanswered questions. I was really pleased that the kids were all very interested in Joey, from the Big Questions to little connections, like asking what video games Joey plays and does he have a Wii? Joey is important to these kids, just as they are important to Joey. And seriously, that rocks.
One of the Big Questions was "Does autism hurt?" It isn't a question I have a ready answer to. I don't know the answer. Does it hurt? How do you define "hurt"? Does being overwhelmed and uncomfortable "hurt"? Does constant frustration "hurt"? When Joey processes sensory stimuli differently, it could very well hurt. He talks about not liking to read because it "hurts." I didn't give a straight answer, but instead talked about ways Joey may feel things and understand things differently than other people. We talked about how it might feel to be overwhelmed all the time. We even talked about what "overwhelmed" means. We talked about how Joey uses language and words, and what it could mean when he says something "hurts." It isn't a yes or no question, really.
One of the kids asked if Joey took medication. Mrs. C and I explained that Joey does not take medication for autism, he takes medication for anxiety; that is, he had medicine that keeps him from feeling scared and overwhelmed all the time. Another question was what happens when he doesn't take his medication; and we noted he would be grumpy and anxious, so they would likely notice. However, most people feel grumpy or anxious sometimes, anyway. But it is a hard question to answer; how much do you reveal about Joey without him knowing you are telling people? What will third graders do with this information? Will they tell him to take medicine every time he gets grumpy?
The the biggest question was what to do about all the unanswered questions. I was really pleased that the kids were all very interested in Joey, from the Big Questions to little connections, like asking what video games Joey plays and does he have a Wii? Joey is important to these kids, just as they are important to Joey. And seriously, that rocks.
The plan of the Day: Talking to Joey's Class
Today I am going to talk to Joey's class about autism, an idea I suggested after thinking about Mom-NOS's great classic, Hair Dryer Brains in a Toaster World. I got the questions the kids offered this morning, so I don't have a lot of time to prepare and think. I hope my talk with Joey's class goes even half so well.
We are a very small school system. In fact, there is only one school per level. We have one lower elementary, one upper elementary, one intermediate, and one high school.The kids that Joey sees in class today are likely the same kids he saw for the last three years, and he will still be looking at them nine years from now. I was surprised to find how many kids did not know Joey this summer; or, perhaps I ought to be more accurate there. Everybody knows Joey. Not everybody has had to work with him in their classes, or are familiar with his differences. Since he is not in the mainstream classes right now, even fewer are getting to know him and learn to accept those differences. It is likely at this point that Joey will spend the majority of his school time in "inclusion" classrooms, where he will have access to a special education teacher all day. The majority of those kids are hand-picked to be supportive and benefit from that environment as much as the special needs children. Therefore, it is likely we will be seeing this particular group of kids for a long, long time.
I need to get this right.
I'll keep you posted.
Edit: I almost forgot, here's the questions I got:
1.) Why does Joey say "Infinity and beyond?" (I corrected misspellings!)
2.) Why does Joey want to run out the door? (2 asked that)
3.) How does a kid get autism? Is it because when they breathe their
brain doesn't get oxygen fast enough?
4.) Does it hurt them to have autism?
We are a very small school system. In fact, there is only one school per level. We have one lower elementary, one upper elementary, one intermediate, and one high school.The kids that Joey sees in class today are likely the same kids he saw for the last three years, and he will still be looking at them nine years from now. I was surprised to find how many kids did not know Joey this summer; or, perhaps I ought to be more accurate there. Everybody knows Joey. Not everybody has had to work with him in their classes, or are familiar with his differences. Since he is not in the mainstream classes right now, even fewer are getting to know him and learn to accept those differences. It is likely at this point that Joey will spend the majority of his school time in "inclusion" classrooms, where he will have access to a special education teacher all day. The majority of those kids are hand-picked to be supportive and benefit from that environment as much as the special needs children. Therefore, it is likely we will be seeing this particular group of kids for a long, long time.
I need to get this right.
I'll keep you posted.
Edit: I almost forgot, here's the questions I got:
1.) Why does Joey say "Infinity and beyond?" (I corrected misspellings!)
2.) Why does Joey want to run out the door? (2 asked that)
3.) How does a kid get autism? Is it because when they breathe their
brain doesn't get oxygen fast enough?
4.) Does it hurt them to have autism?
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Downtown Adventure: Another Day
You may remember last spring I took the boys to see some of the sights of our town, including the Hugh Mercer Apothecary, and was very pleased to find the docents patient and willing to help accommodate us. The boys were off on Monday, so we fished about for President's Day stuff to do. Joey was not in a good mood for a long ride to Wakefield, and Ferry Farm was closed (why is the farm where George Washington grew up closed on President's Day? I have no idea). So I settled on another go at the apothecary.
Unfortunately, this time wasn't so pleasant.
When you enter the apothecary, the front receiving room includes a wall of medicines and a counter of jars filled with interesting herbs and such. The tour starts in the next room, which was apparently the doctor's surgery. There may be a couple more rooms in the tour, but I don't know, we've never gotten that far. They spent a very long time in the surgery, explaining what medicine was like in colonial times, quite graphically. It's a pretty nice little presentation for adults and children who can easily sit and focus.
When we arrived, the tour was well underway with a room full of children in the surgery. Since you have to pay for the tour ($5 per adult, $2 for kids 6-12), I thought it a good opportunity to let my guys try to settle and see if the tour would be a good idea. The docent was not the one there before, and she immediately started badgering us about how it was a paid tour and much to the effect of "pay up, lady." I explained that I would pay in a minute, as I was trying to get a handle on my guys. Andy was asking questions about the counter, Joey was asking questions about the furniture, and I didn't particularly want either of them running about the room while I was trying to get money settled. Both boys were being pretty good about their voices, so I didn't really see why the woman started fussing about us being in the room, but she did- "its a paid tour, and you're disturbing it" sort of comments. Why isn't she going to let us wait for the next tour, since it was a paid tour and already well under way? I wondered.
I started having my second thoughts, and quickly explained that my child was autistic and I wanted him to get used to the room for a moment. I think had the woman given us a couple of minutes to settle, we would have been ok, as I had gotten them both sitting on a bench and was working to determine if this tour was going to be something we could handle. But she didn't, so Joey picked up on the mood and decided he was done. He announced his wish to leave in a fairly loud voice- one that I would readily say was disruptive to the other room, where they were still going on about pulling teeth- and I was by now quite sure we were not welcome. Andy wanted to stay and ask more questions about the herbs and hear the tour, but we weren't getting the minute we needed to pull Joey together.
"Come on, we're not welcome here," I explained to get him out the door. Now the woman started saying things like, "I was a teacher for 29 years and know something about..." and "I'm just trying to help you..." and "You don't have to be so nasty about it!"
A teacher for 29 years? And you don't know an autistic child when you see one? Or offer to help accommodate a disability instead of running your mouth? This was getting worse by the minute. I finally got Andy gathered and out the door, and Joey made a break for the library just down the street.
Now, you'd think once I had removed my children from the situation, it would be done. She had her silent front room back, but was she happy? No. In her full colonial costume, this woman actually came out and followed us a way down the street, making similar comments about how rude and nasty we were being and how "some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed in the morning!" No kidding, lady. You just made it that kind of day for us, that's for sure.
And guess what else is closed on President's Day? The library.
We gave up and went home to play Wii Sports.
Unfortunately, this time wasn't so pleasant.
When you enter the apothecary, the front receiving room includes a wall of medicines and a counter of jars filled with interesting herbs and such. The tour starts in the next room, which was apparently the doctor's surgery. There may be a couple more rooms in the tour, but I don't know, we've never gotten that far. They spent a very long time in the surgery, explaining what medicine was like in colonial times, quite graphically. It's a pretty nice little presentation for adults and children who can easily sit and focus.
When we arrived, the tour was well underway with a room full of children in the surgery. Since you have to pay for the tour ($5 per adult, $2 for kids 6-12), I thought it a good opportunity to let my guys try to settle and see if the tour would be a good idea. The docent was not the one there before, and she immediately started badgering us about how it was a paid tour and much to the effect of "pay up, lady." I explained that I would pay in a minute, as I was trying to get a handle on my guys. Andy was asking questions about the counter, Joey was asking questions about the furniture, and I didn't particularly want either of them running about the room while I was trying to get money settled. Both boys were being pretty good about their voices, so I didn't really see why the woman started fussing about us being in the room, but she did- "its a paid tour, and you're disturbing it" sort of comments. Why isn't she going to let us wait for the next tour, since it was a paid tour and already well under way? I wondered.
I started having my second thoughts, and quickly explained that my child was autistic and I wanted him to get used to the room for a moment. I think had the woman given us a couple of minutes to settle, we would have been ok, as I had gotten them both sitting on a bench and was working to determine if this tour was going to be something we could handle. But she didn't, so Joey picked up on the mood and decided he was done. He announced his wish to leave in a fairly loud voice- one that I would readily say was disruptive to the other room, where they were still going on about pulling teeth- and I was by now quite sure we were not welcome. Andy wanted to stay and ask more questions about the herbs and hear the tour, but we weren't getting the minute we needed to pull Joey together.
"Come on, we're not welcome here," I explained to get him out the door. Now the woman started saying things like, "I was a teacher for 29 years and know something about..." and "I'm just trying to help you..." and "You don't have to be so nasty about it!"
A teacher for 29 years? And you don't know an autistic child when you see one? Or offer to help accommodate a disability instead of running your mouth? This was getting worse by the minute. I finally got Andy gathered and out the door, and Joey made a break for the library just down the street.
Now, you'd think once I had removed my children from the situation, it would be done. She had her silent front room back, but was she happy? No. In her full colonial costume, this woman actually came out and followed us a way down the street, making similar comments about how rude and nasty we were being and how "some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed in the morning!" No kidding, lady. You just made it that kind of day for us, that's for sure.
And guess what else is closed on President's Day? The library.
We gave up and went home to play Wii Sports.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
IEP Season Comes Around Again
Getting ready for your yearly IEP? When Spring comes around, it is time to be thinking about what goals your child(ren) will be aiming for in the coming year. What is reasonable? What to ask for? How to prepare?
Here are some links to my previous posts on IEPs and preparing for them. I hope this helps.
Quick Guide to the Day After Diagnosis (In case you are just getting started)
The Crazy Season (A Quick Guide to IEPs)
Powerpoint Thinking (Putting together a presentation about your child)
For Stimey (The Rabbit Joke, IEP-Style)
Autism Awareness Month: Resource Links Post
You Are Not Alone (Just a Reminder)
And from elsewhere:
How to Prepare for an IEP Meeting
Preparing for an IEP: Organizing Your Concerns
Three Steps to a Successful IEP
Wrightslaw
Advocating For Your Special Needs Child
Here are some links to my previous posts on IEPs and preparing for them. I hope this helps.
Quick Guide to the Day After Diagnosis (In case you are just getting started)
The Crazy Season (A Quick Guide to IEPs)
Powerpoint Thinking (Putting together a presentation about your child)
For Stimey (The Rabbit Joke, IEP-Style)
Autism Awareness Month: Resource Links Post
You Are Not Alone (Just a Reminder)
And from elsewhere:
How to Prepare for an IEP Meeting
Preparing for an IEP: Organizing Your Concerns
Three Steps to a Successful IEP
Wrightslaw
Advocating For Your Special Needs Child
And the boys played on
Friday was Early Out. Early Out days often seem like odd, long stretches of lost time. The boys are home early, but getting them to engage in an activity or find something for them to do is next to impossible. They have had their taste of school, they want cartoons (well, MythBusters is the current TV favorite) and video games, but it is far too early in the day. The Witching Hour is often simply extended from one to five instead of four to five.
Hallelujah, Spring weather to the rescue. I tossed them both outside with our Awesome Neighbor to play. They took turns riding Joey's trike. They played in the sand. They chased each other in games. They bickered as boys will do, especially when they are 6-10 years old and all of them are powerful personalities. Another friend and his mom were taking a walk, and joined us. I had four kids playing in my back yard, being boys.
It was totally awesome.
There was no denying that two of them were autistic, and the other two were hyperactive. But holy cow, they just played like any other group of boys. The other mom and I sat on lawn chairs on the patio and played with our new phones (I have my new iphone, she has a droid), swapping app suggestions. And the boys played on.
Awesome Neighbor had to go home. JoeyAndyDad came home. We sat in lawn chairs together, talking about phones and apps and geeky stuff like that. Boys had drinks and sand and the tricycle.
And the boys played on.
Hallelujah, Spring weather to the rescue. I tossed them both outside with our Awesome Neighbor to play. They took turns riding Joey's trike. They played in the sand. They chased each other in games. They bickered as boys will do, especially when they are 6-10 years old and all of them are powerful personalities. Another friend and his mom were taking a walk, and joined us. I had four kids playing in my back yard, being boys.
It was totally awesome.
There was no denying that two of them were autistic, and the other two were hyperactive. But holy cow, they just played like any other group of boys. The other mom and I sat on lawn chairs on the patio and played with our new phones (I have my new iphone, she has a droid), swapping app suggestions. And the boys played on.
Awesome Neighbor had to go home. JoeyAndyDad came home. We sat in lawn chairs together, talking about phones and apps and geeky stuff like that. Boys had drinks and sand and the tricycle.
And the boys played on.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Triennial again
We just had our second triennial. Has Joey been in school so very long? It was a fascinating meeting. We had all four of Joey's teachers there, the speech therapist, my private occupational therapist (the school one didn't even try to come!), and the school psychologist. Oh, and me.
We started with classroom updates. Joey has a regular ed teacher and a special ed teacher in his inclusion room, who spoke about his improvements, his setbacks since Christmas, what he is doing well and what is still a struggle for him. He is spectacular in math and spelling, not so much in reading. Since Christmas, he has been able to be in reading group only a handful of times due to behavior and sensory problems. (Remember this was a child in a reading group in a REGULAR classroom last year). It has been interesting watching these teachers realize what Joey can do, and how he is actually disabled. The one teacher has figured out that Joey's reading comprehension is not the problem, it is his ability to communicate what he comprehends, and to answer questions. She spent the meeting correcting folks every time it was mentioned that he was having trouble with reading comprehension. "It's not the comprehension- it is what he is able to communicate that he comprehends!"
He is doing better with noise and assemblies- the bigger problem is boredom.
Joey spends a good part of his day in self-contained, and that teacher is new. There was a whole different attitude towards teaching from that facet of the team. Mr. T takes his kids as they come, and works to make sure they are learning. He seemed surprised at some of the problems and concerns in the inclusion room, which he simply saw as not a problem, but just facts of the child. Joey likes to walk around and needs movement. The inclusion room attitude is, "how do we get him to sit down?" The self-contained attitude is "how do I give him opportunities to move?"
Then we went to look at the evals- except there weren't any. The last speech eval was done by my private therapist, and we were about to renew it when the office was closed- so it was from 2008. The last developmental? 2005. We had some info from his gifted and talented screening which placed him in the superior range, but the intelligence test they gave him- and they only gave him selections from any of the tests- only put him at 58%. The math part? Only "high average." Well, we knew those tests were inaccurate.
The speech therapist stepped in and gave an overview of her experience in lieu of a formal eval. It was interesting to hear how different her assessment of concerns were from those of the classroom. The classroom teachers noticed trouble with communicating understanding of the feelings of others, ability to express narrative sequence, and expressing the main idea of a passage (Joey tends to place equal emphasis on all the details instead of being able to capture the larger picture in reading a passage; I understand this is pretty common in autism). The speech therapist was interested in his struggle to make predictions, create or understand narrative, or answer complex questions. Sounds like IEP goals to me...
Then my private OT stepped in with her eval, which was from the spring, and yet still a good snapshot of Joey and his abilities for functioning. Funny what info you can get from appropriate evals done in a timely manner.
We decided to update all the evals, do some cognitive testing, and have him take the complete tests provided by the gifted and talented people, even though he "doesn't qualify"- we want to understand why these tests are not accurate, what skills he does have, and how to support and teach him to help them be accurate, with the goal of having him graduate with a regular high school diploma, not a provisional/special ed one. He needs to be able to take SOL tests to get a "real" diploma (what? a special ed diploma is a piece of pity paper? Do people have any idea how much work these kids do?)
Then came the good part.
My OT piped up to ask a few questions. Or drop a few bombshells. Whichever.
Since Joey needs to move to learn, he will do it whether given appropriate opportunities to do so or not. What appropriate opportunities were being provided? Math is done in centers- plenty of opportunity to get up and walk around. Reading is done seated in a group... no wonder he has a harder time there! She provided some suggestions, such as allowing him to read standing up. Mr. T apparently was doing that already, and hadn't really thought it odd that Joey likes to read standing up. I remember when he had to stand up to eat. (I'll never forget it, as we were accosted in a restaurant once because of it!) Yep, different attitude.
Then we discussed Joey having communication alternatives for when he is excited, angry, frustrated, upset- times when he is likely to lose his ability to access language. This is a sticky point for me. I have a terribly difficult time getting others to understand that just because Joey is verbal, doesn't mean is he is verbal all the time. His ability to access language and use it effectively plunges when stress and anxiety come crashing in. I think that is true for most kids, but for Joey, it is an extreme. We talked about cards and items he can take with him from classroom to classroom, and items that can be copied for each classroom. He likes to carry things on his head. The notebook made for the self-contained was being used in the inclusion. Many of the interventions we had developed had faded into the background and needed to be reinstated. When Joey doesn't need a certain support for a long while, it can be easy to forget to leave it in the toolkit- but when he needs it, he needs it NOW. Our OT also suggested training Joey to use a card to indicate when he is processing and needs extra time to respond. It can take Joey up to three minutes to process through information to the point he can answer a question. Teachers expect answers within 5 seconds. That is a huge gap, and there is concern he is being upbraided for not listening or responding when he is processing. The card would be cue to the other person that Joey has heard them, and needs time. Apparently, our OT went to a conference with an autistic woman who used these cards to great effect, and she instantly thought of Joey.
Then came the Big One. We know Joey is gifted in math and spelling... so what gifted programs are available for him?
Gifted programs are not made to be accessible. They assumption of being "super-able" pervades our attitudes, and that of society. The gifted program is designed "for kids who are generally gifted... kids with pocket talents are handled through differentiation." In other words, the program is designed for super-abled kids, not kids with specific gifts. Hmmm.
I doubt I will fight this battle, though. The gifted program is another pull-out, another transition, and not designed to meet Joey's needs. It is another set of people to train, who probably have even less interest in learning what is needful or dealing with disability in their program. A program where kids are given a project and just told to "go for it" would be an anxiety-ridden disaster for Joey at this point.
Yet the issue remains hanging there. Why can't someone like Joey participate in the gifted program, when he is clearly gifted? Why is he cut off from that social circle? And how can that be addressed? And if boredom is a problem, how is that being addressed?
We started with classroom updates. Joey has a regular ed teacher and a special ed teacher in his inclusion room, who spoke about his improvements, his setbacks since Christmas, what he is doing well and what is still a struggle for him. He is spectacular in math and spelling, not so much in reading. Since Christmas, he has been able to be in reading group only a handful of times due to behavior and sensory problems. (Remember this was a child in a reading group in a REGULAR classroom last year). It has been interesting watching these teachers realize what Joey can do, and how he is actually disabled. The one teacher has figured out that Joey's reading comprehension is not the problem, it is his ability to communicate what he comprehends, and to answer questions. She spent the meeting correcting folks every time it was mentioned that he was having trouble with reading comprehension. "It's not the comprehension- it is what he is able to communicate that he comprehends!"
He is doing better with noise and assemblies- the bigger problem is boredom.
Joey spends a good part of his day in self-contained, and that teacher is new. There was a whole different attitude towards teaching from that facet of the team. Mr. T takes his kids as they come, and works to make sure they are learning. He seemed surprised at some of the problems and concerns in the inclusion room, which he simply saw as not a problem, but just facts of the child. Joey likes to walk around and needs movement. The inclusion room attitude is, "how do we get him to sit down?" The self-contained attitude is "how do I give him opportunities to move?"
Then we went to look at the evals- except there weren't any. The last speech eval was done by my private therapist, and we were about to renew it when the office was closed- so it was from 2008. The last developmental? 2005. We had some info from his gifted and talented screening which placed him in the superior range, but the intelligence test they gave him- and they only gave him selections from any of the tests- only put him at 58%. The math part? Only "high average." Well, we knew those tests were inaccurate.
The speech therapist stepped in and gave an overview of her experience in lieu of a formal eval. It was interesting to hear how different her assessment of concerns were from those of the classroom. The classroom teachers noticed trouble with communicating understanding of the feelings of others, ability to express narrative sequence, and expressing the main idea of a passage (Joey tends to place equal emphasis on all the details instead of being able to capture the larger picture in reading a passage; I understand this is pretty common in autism). The speech therapist was interested in his struggle to make predictions, create or understand narrative, or answer complex questions. Sounds like IEP goals to me...
Then my private OT stepped in with her eval, which was from the spring, and yet still a good snapshot of Joey and his abilities for functioning. Funny what info you can get from appropriate evals done in a timely manner.
We decided to update all the evals, do some cognitive testing, and have him take the complete tests provided by the gifted and talented people, even though he "doesn't qualify"- we want to understand why these tests are not accurate, what skills he does have, and how to support and teach him to help them be accurate, with the goal of having him graduate with a regular high school diploma, not a provisional/special ed one. He needs to be able to take SOL tests to get a "real" diploma (what? a special ed diploma is a piece of pity paper? Do people have any idea how much work these kids do?)
Then came the good part.
My OT piped up to ask a few questions. Or drop a few bombshells. Whichever.
Since Joey needs to move to learn, he will do it whether given appropriate opportunities to do so or not. What appropriate opportunities were being provided? Math is done in centers- plenty of opportunity to get up and walk around. Reading is done seated in a group... no wonder he has a harder time there! She provided some suggestions, such as allowing him to read standing up. Mr. T apparently was doing that already, and hadn't really thought it odd that Joey likes to read standing up. I remember when he had to stand up to eat. (I'll never forget it, as we were accosted in a restaurant once because of it!) Yep, different attitude.
Then we discussed Joey having communication alternatives for when he is excited, angry, frustrated, upset- times when he is likely to lose his ability to access language. This is a sticky point for me. I have a terribly difficult time getting others to understand that just because Joey is verbal, doesn't mean is he is verbal all the time. His ability to access language and use it effectively plunges when stress and anxiety come crashing in. I think that is true for most kids, but for Joey, it is an extreme. We talked about cards and items he can take with him from classroom to classroom, and items that can be copied for each classroom. He likes to carry things on his head. The notebook made for the self-contained was being used in the inclusion. Many of the interventions we had developed had faded into the background and needed to be reinstated. When Joey doesn't need a certain support for a long while, it can be easy to forget to leave it in the toolkit- but when he needs it, he needs it NOW. Our OT also suggested training Joey to use a card to indicate when he is processing and needs extra time to respond. It can take Joey up to three minutes to process through information to the point he can answer a question. Teachers expect answers within 5 seconds. That is a huge gap, and there is concern he is being upbraided for not listening or responding when he is processing. The card would be cue to the other person that Joey has heard them, and needs time. Apparently, our OT went to a conference with an autistic woman who used these cards to great effect, and she instantly thought of Joey.
Then came the Big One. We know Joey is gifted in math and spelling... so what gifted programs are available for him?
Gifted programs are not made to be accessible. They assumption of being "super-able" pervades our attitudes, and that of society. The gifted program is designed "for kids who are generally gifted... kids with pocket talents are handled through differentiation." In other words, the program is designed for super-abled kids, not kids with specific gifts. Hmmm.
I doubt I will fight this battle, though. The gifted program is another pull-out, another transition, and not designed to meet Joey's needs. It is another set of people to train, who probably have even less interest in learning what is needful or dealing with disability in their program. A program where kids are given a project and just told to "go for it" would be an anxiety-ridden disaster for Joey at this point.
Yet the issue remains hanging there. Why can't someone like Joey participate in the gifted program, when he is clearly gifted? Why is he cut off from that social circle? And how can that be addressed? And if boredom is a problem, how is that being addressed?
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Am I Really This Old?
One of my friends from high school is going to be a grandmother today or tomorrow.
A grandmother.
Wow. My kids are still in elementary school.
A grandmother.
Wow. My kids are still in elementary school.
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
Monday, February 07, 2011
Thinking Forward
It's February. Time to start thinking about what Joey will be doing this summer.
Whether the school wants to or not.
Report Cards: Night and Day in Usefulness
It was report card day Friday, but I forgot until I opened the bags this morning to pack lunches and, hey, look, report cards! Which for us are report papers. But whatever.
Andy's "grades" are based on the Satisfactory System. It works like this:
S- Satisfactory.
P- Progressing with Effort.
N- Needs Improvement.
Apparently, this school system assumes kids (or their parents?) can't handle real grades until third grade. Andy got all S reports this time! Even in handwriting! Woo-hoo!!!
Joey's reports ar a little more complicated. First, we have the grade report. This mixes real grades with the Satisfactory System grades. Academic subjects get real grades. Other benchmarks, such as social skills and specials (music, art) get Satisfactory System grades.
How accurate is it? He has a C in science and a B+ in spelling.
Excuse me? The boy who won the spelling bee has a B+ in spelling?
That probably has more to do with the N in "turns in work on time" than his actual grasp of the subjects. Or his N in "self-control." Which means that the report card isn't very useful for gauging much, other than, hey look, my kid is autistic and needs support in turning in his homework! Really? No kidding!
The other part of Joey's report is his IEP report. Not much has changed. Again. Which really does make me angry and continues the frustration. This is ridiculous. It is frickin' FEBRUARY, people. This time, no one bothered to put in comments except the speech therapist. We have another "no instruction" for dealing with teasing and bullying. I'm sure the excuse will be "it doesn't happen here!" I now think the only answer for that from here will be, "and what have you observed during PE and recess? How much observation has been done? And why were people laughing at him at the start of the spelling bee? How have you helped him to cope with people laughing at him in large groups like that?"
Middle school is closing in fast. And the more "no instruction" I see on goals to help him cope with the social and emotional onslaught of pre-teen angst, the more I prepare for a few years of homeschooling.
Andy's "grades" are based on the Satisfactory System. It works like this:
S- Satisfactory.
P- Progressing with Effort.
N- Needs Improvement.
Apparently, this school system assumes kids (or their parents?) can't handle real grades until third grade. Andy got all S reports this time! Even in handwriting! Woo-hoo!!!
Joey's reports ar a little more complicated. First, we have the grade report. This mixes real grades with the Satisfactory System grades. Academic subjects get real grades. Other benchmarks, such as social skills and specials (music, art) get Satisfactory System grades.
How accurate is it? He has a C in science and a B+ in spelling.
Excuse me? The boy who won the spelling bee has a B+ in spelling?
That probably has more to do with the N in "turns in work on time" than his actual grasp of the subjects. Or his N in "self-control." Which means that the report card isn't very useful for gauging much, other than, hey look, my kid is autistic and needs support in turning in his homework! Really? No kidding!
The other part of Joey's report is his IEP report. Not much has changed. Again. Which really does make me angry and continues the frustration. This is ridiculous. It is frickin' FEBRUARY, people. This time, no one bothered to put in comments except the speech therapist. We have another "no instruction" for dealing with teasing and bullying. I'm sure the excuse will be "it doesn't happen here!" I now think the only answer for that from here will be, "and what have you observed during PE and recess? How much observation has been done? And why were people laughing at him at the start of the spelling bee? How have you helped him to cope with people laughing at him in large groups like that?"
Middle school is closing in fast. And the more "no instruction" I see on goals to help him cope with the social and emotional onslaught of pre-teen angst, the more I prepare for a few years of homeschooling.
Sunday, February 06, 2011
Things That Make You Go "What?"
I'm sorry, I can't hear you.
Only according to the ear doctor- the one in town who is supposed to be super-good- I can hear you just fine. Except that I can't seem to hear. Is it hair in my ears? Or random wax? Funny, I was in the ear doc's office because my family doctor eliminated those things already. But my audiology tests came back perfectly normal, so obviously I can hear, right? Right?
What? I didn't catch that.
I took my mom with me. I'm glad I had a witness, or I would have thought I was crazy. The ear doctor sure seemed to think I was. The only suggestion he had was that maybe I was having trouble with "background noise", an auditory processing issue; but he didn't want to give me that test, because hey, what could we do about that, anyway?
What? I can't hear you. Can you repeat that again?
I'm not saying there isn't some possibility for this theory. I thought about when I have the hardest time hearing. After a summer of fluid in my ears (which the ear doc says couldn't have been fluid in my ears, because it is really rare for adults to have fluid in their ears, it must have been hair or wax or something like that, even though I had a doctor check out my ears and apparently my ear canals are particularly clean), I started having trouble. During, in fact, but I attribute the during to the "fluid" (which, by the way, hurts, and can cause my ears to become sensitive to high-pitched sounds like boy squeals. It was a long summer). My mom noticed it. She found talking to me in the car, I sometimes didn't even know she had spoken. My students noticed it. They have to repeat themselves a lot, which they find annoying. When my doctor checked my ears, I think she thought I was being silly, too, until she tried to tell me something while she washed her hands, and it was obvious I didn't hear her.
What's the connection there? Sure enough, noise. The staticy white noise: the rush of the road and wind in the car, even with the windows up, plus the heater blowing. In my class, I am video linked to another classroom, and for reasons unknown, they placed the microphone next to the heater/air conditioner, so that there is a constant sound of blowing air or static in my classroom. The sound of the running water with the aerator. Like TV snow.
It may not explain the occasional pain, why it seems to come and go (I have days I can hear better than others, and sometimes it is one ear, sometimes the other, sometimes both), or why it suddenly appeared. But it is interesting as a theory.
So, the good news is that apparently, my ears work. The bad news is I still can't hear you.
What?
Only according to the ear doctor- the one in town who is supposed to be super-good- I can hear you just fine. Except that I can't seem to hear. Is it hair in my ears? Or random wax? Funny, I was in the ear doc's office because my family doctor eliminated those things already. But my audiology tests came back perfectly normal, so obviously I can hear, right? Right?
What? I didn't catch that.
I took my mom with me. I'm glad I had a witness, or I would have thought I was crazy. The ear doctor sure seemed to think I was. The only suggestion he had was that maybe I was having trouble with "background noise", an auditory processing issue; but he didn't want to give me that test, because hey, what could we do about that, anyway?
What? I can't hear you. Can you repeat that again?
I'm not saying there isn't some possibility for this theory. I thought about when I have the hardest time hearing. After a summer of fluid in my ears (which the ear doc says couldn't have been fluid in my ears, because it is really rare for adults to have fluid in their ears, it must have been hair or wax or something like that, even though I had a doctor check out my ears and apparently my ear canals are particularly clean), I started having trouble. During, in fact, but I attribute the during to the "fluid" (which, by the way, hurts, and can cause my ears to become sensitive to high-pitched sounds like boy squeals. It was a long summer). My mom noticed it. She found talking to me in the car, I sometimes didn't even know she had spoken. My students noticed it. They have to repeat themselves a lot, which they find annoying. When my doctor checked my ears, I think she thought I was being silly, too, until she tried to tell me something while she washed her hands, and it was obvious I didn't hear her.
What's the connection there? Sure enough, noise. The staticy white noise: the rush of the road and wind in the car, even with the windows up, plus the heater blowing. In my class, I am video linked to another classroom, and for reasons unknown, they placed the microphone next to the heater/air conditioner, so that there is a constant sound of blowing air or static in my classroom. The sound of the running water with the aerator. Like TV snow.
It may not explain the occasional pain, why it seems to come and go (I have days I can hear better than others, and sometimes it is one ear, sometimes the other, sometimes both), or why it suddenly appeared. But it is interesting as a theory.
So, the good news is that apparently, my ears work. The bad news is I still can't hear you.
What?
Friday, February 04, 2011
The Meaning of Hugs and Kisses
His lips brush my cheek, ever so lightly, yet with careful deliberation. The child has appeared from nowhere, materialized into my space.
"You're my sweet goo goo," he half-whispers, a sort of stage whisper he has acquired for these kinds of moments. Perhaps he means to whisper, but is instead using the tones demonstrated to encourage him to whisper in certain contexts. I could go into the origins of the odd intimate-title, but it would be pointless, the origins have no meaning into his use of the words now. He pauses for the expected and anticipated reply.
"You are my sweet Joey-Boy," I complete the exchange with a kiss on his cheek. He rubs his face on mine, nose-to-nose, cheek-to-cheek, then brushes the lips again.
"My sweet goo goo," he repeats. He leans his head against me a moment. Then he is gone, back to play his Poptropica or with his Toy Story figurines.
In the midst of anxiety and craziness, Joey has also hit a lovey-stage. He wants lots of hugs, lots of attention, lots of closeness. He is doing this to one of his teachers, too. As Andy has hit the "Mom-leave-me-alone" stage, having Joey to smooch on is lovely; but like so many other shifts in behavior and attitude, I worry. Is he feeling lonely, or left out, or needy, or somehow downtrodden? Does he need the deep pressure, or the attention, or both? Is this another sign of depression?
I try to make no snap assumptions, but try to give him what he is asking for- lots of hugs and kisses, lots of assurances that he is still a sweet, handsome, intelligent person. I take the opportunity of having him so close to my face to give him specific praise ("I was so proud of you for getting dressed so nicely this morning!", "Thank you for throwing out your chip bag, that is so helpful!", "I saw you got a 100% on your math quiz, great job!") I let him run his hands and face over mine, an exploration that he has delighted in since he was a babe. I so desperately want him to know he is so very loved, so treasured, so wonderful.
I want him to carry that understanding with him even when this lovey-dovey mood is gone. I will miss it.
"You're my sweet goo goo," he half-whispers, a sort of stage whisper he has acquired for these kinds of moments. Perhaps he means to whisper, but is instead using the tones demonstrated to encourage him to whisper in certain contexts. I could go into the origins of the odd intimate-title, but it would be pointless, the origins have no meaning into his use of the words now. He pauses for the expected and anticipated reply.
"You are my sweet Joey-Boy," I complete the exchange with a kiss on his cheek. He rubs his face on mine, nose-to-nose, cheek-to-cheek, then brushes the lips again.
"My sweet goo goo," he repeats. He leans his head against me a moment. Then he is gone, back to play his Poptropica or with his Toy Story figurines.
In the midst of anxiety and craziness, Joey has also hit a lovey-stage. He wants lots of hugs, lots of attention, lots of closeness. He is doing this to one of his teachers, too. As Andy has hit the "Mom-leave-me-alone" stage, having Joey to smooch on is lovely; but like so many other shifts in behavior and attitude, I worry. Is he feeling lonely, or left out, or needy, or somehow downtrodden? Does he need the deep pressure, or the attention, or both? Is this another sign of depression?
I try to make no snap assumptions, but try to give him what he is asking for- lots of hugs and kisses, lots of assurances that he is still a sweet, handsome, intelligent person. I take the opportunity of having him so close to my face to give him specific praise ("I was so proud of you for getting dressed so nicely this morning!", "Thank you for throwing out your chip bag, that is so helpful!", "I saw you got a 100% on your math quiz, great job!") I let him run his hands and face over mine, an exploration that he has delighted in since he was a babe. I so desperately want him to know he is so very loved, so treasured, so wonderful.
I want him to carry that understanding with him even when this lovey-dovey mood is gone. I will miss it.
Thursday, February 03, 2011
Happy New Year: Year of the Tooth Fairy!
It's the Year of the Rabbit! I hope it means lots of ice cream, not lots of lost teeth.
Wednesday, February 02, 2011
Sensory Overload and the Red Cheek Wonder
Everyone knows Joey gets red cheeks. One of the signs of him going into sensory overload is that his cheeks flame with color. It isn't just too much of everything everywhere; there can also be an intensity of sensory input that can send him into Red Cheek Wonder. Combined with his naturally pink cheeks, he would be an excellent poster child for Campbell's Soup.
He's just like his Mom.
I have to be careful about going to movie theaters. The overload can give me a high fever, and almost always gives me the cheek flush. The other thing that drives my blood pressure to flaming? Meetings. Trying to listen to not only what is being said, but what is being said between the lines, what is not being said, what is being meant but not actually said, the implications of the ideas being said, especially in a meeting where all those things can have consequences for my Joey or my Andy?
Overload.
So I sat there this evening trying to pretend my cheeks weren't burning and my temperature was not going through the roof, listening intensely to the changes being proposed for the middle school here (where Joey will have to be in two more years). Then I got in my little tweets into ears about the miscommunications about Joey's therapist coming in for observation, and that I would like to come in for observation next week. I sometimes wonder if others can tell when I am in overload, or if they just assume I have very red cheeks like Joey all the time. I bet they don't know that the red cheeks are a sign of overload. They probably think it is something else, like being nervous or not being truthful.
I wonder how often Joey goes through his days as I went through this evening, trying to function through the overload, trying to follow everything and process it without being fully overwhelmed. Only he has processing issues I don't think I have, making it that much harder for him to get through.
He's just like his Mom.
I have to be careful about going to movie theaters. The overload can give me a high fever, and almost always gives me the cheek flush. The other thing that drives my blood pressure to flaming? Meetings. Trying to listen to not only what is being said, but what is being said between the lines, what is not being said, what is being meant but not actually said, the implications of the ideas being said, especially in a meeting where all those things can have consequences for my Joey or my Andy?
Overload.
So I sat there this evening trying to pretend my cheeks weren't burning and my temperature was not going through the roof, listening intensely to the changes being proposed for the middle school here (where Joey will have to be in two more years). Then I got in my little tweets into ears about the miscommunications about Joey's therapist coming in for observation, and that I would like to come in for observation next week. I sometimes wonder if others can tell when I am in overload, or if they just assume I have very red cheeks like Joey all the time. I bet they don't know that the red cheeks are a sign of overload. They probably think it is something else, like being nervous or not being truthful.
I wonder how often Joey goes through his days as I went through this evening, trying to function through the overload, trying to follow everything and process it without being fully overwhelmed. Only he has processing issues I don't think I have, making it that much harder for him to get through.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Through the Cracks
There is definitely something wrong in a society when people with disabled children have to choose between paying their rent or paying for the care of their child. I have a couple of friends in this catch-22. Technically, so are we, but we manage to bring in enough to not have such a touch choice. The people I know really caught in this crack are children with very severe disabilities, where the children require a lot of medical care and equipment as well as therapies and other specialized care. The way the system works, they can't make any more money- one parent needs to be home for the child(ren), and if they make over a certain income, their children lose important medical support and services, such as Medicaid or Social Security. Parents self-train because they cannot afford nursing or to hire care, some have to homeschool because the special education system takes too long to fix serious issues that threaten the health and education of the child who is already severely challenged and endangered. Respite care costs money. Wheelchairs cost money. Alternative communication costs money.
I certainly understand reserving government assistance for the neediest families. The problem is that no one in the private sector picks up the slack. The system is made is actually create needy families. It becomes a vicious cycle for families who make too much to qualify for assistance, but not enough to pay for both household expenses and therapy. What happens to them? They have to move back in with their parents, if they have that resource. They have to quit jobs to qualify for the assistance, instead of continuing to support themselves as much as they can and stay off other assistance programs, just getting the assistance they actually need. They drain any saving they have, trying to keep their children off those same assistance programs as much as they can. They spend their days being nurses, caretakers, lawyers, advocates, social workers, coordinators, therapists, educators... because no one can afford all of these services, and yet they are all needed because of the way our society views and treats people with disabilities and their families. Even with families who step up to the plate, no one wins a game on their own.
The attitude of the general public seems to be "sucks to be you." The idea that someone might need assistance means that person is somehow less, somehow a parasite. How very Victorian of them. Instead of being grateful for good fortune, opportunity, and talents, too many in society are spiteful. We need to advance as a society, and look at the basic ideas that move societies beyond the every-man-for-himself attitudes of might makes right: that we are all in this together, and none of us make it out alive. When we stick together, and support each other, everyone's needs can be met and everyone can contribute. Everyone has talents and challenges, and we can all do the best we can if we all help, and don't leave anyone shouldering their lot alone. We can't just assume those who need help are somehow not as good as those who have the opportunities to not be in need. You'd be amazed how quickly those tides can be turned, and the one who thought themselves self-sufficient suddenly and unexpected becomes one in need.
It's a simple rule, folks. Treat others as you would wish to be treated. And it works wonderfully well.
I certainly understand reserving government assistance for the neediest families. The problem is that no one in the private sector picks up the slack. The system is made is actually create needy families. It becomes a vicious cycle for families who make too much to qualify for assistance, but not enough to pay for both household expenses and therapy. What happens to them? They have to move back in with their parents, if they have that resource. They have to quit jobs to qualify for the assistance, instead of continuing to support themselves as much as they can and stay off other assistance programs, just getting the assistance they actually need. They drain any saving they have, trying to keep their children off those same assistance programs as much as they can. They spend their days being nurses, caretakers, lawyers, advocates, social workers, coordinators, therapists, educators... because no one can afford all of these services, and yet they are all needed because of the way our society views and treats people with disabilities and their families. Even with families who step up to the plate, no one wins a game on their own.
The attitude of the general public seems to be "sucks to be you." The idea that someone might need assistance means that person is somehow less, somehow a parasite. How very Victorian of them. Instead of being grateful for good fortune, opportunity, and talents, too many in society are spiteful. We need to advance as a society, and look at the basic ideas that move societies beyond the every-man-for-himself attitudes of might makes right: that we are all in this together, and none of us make it out alive. When we stick together, and support each other, everyone's needs can be met and everyone can contribute. Everyone has talents and challenges, and we can all do the best we can if we all help, and don't leave anyone shouldering their lot alone. We can't just assume those who need help are somehow not as good as those who have the opportunities to not be in need. You'd be amazed how quickly those tides can be turned, and the one who thought themselves self-sufficient suddenly and unexpected becomes one in need.
It's a simple rule, folks. Treat others as you would wish to be treated. And it works wonderfully well.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Changing the Rules
Well, the short of it is Joey was totally awesome. He stuck it out, spelled his words, and would have won the whole thing if they didn't change the rules for the last round. But, they change the rules for the last round, so he wasn't the Grand Champion. He totally, totally rocked the house. The long story... well, it was one of those experiences that have ups and downs and odd moments and great moments. This was the third grade spelling bee, so all the third grade came to watch it, and most of the parents of the kids actually in it- 24 of them (two from each class). For their "practice round", each child stood and spelled their name. Most of the kids got up, precisely spelled their name, and sat down. Joey did this Joey Style, which was a lot more fun, with a lot more awesomeness. He got up there with enthusiasm and relish.
And then the whole room laughed. Most of the parents laughed because, hey, he was cute. But the laughter from the kids, that was different. You could tell by the little undertow of jeer and imitation, that there were an awful lot of those kids laughing at him, not with him. All the talk about teaching kids about diversity, about respect, about creating supportive environments... these are the kids Joey had to deal with all summer, or the ones that didn't know him at all. Some of the parents, who didn't know me from a turnip, whispered something about wondering why "that kid" was up there. I knew they wouldn't be saying such things an hour from then.
By the time Joey was the only one to spell his word correctly of the final four, those cheers were for him, not at him.
But in the final round of a spelling bee, the rules change. When you spell your word correctly, but everyone else does not, you then have to spell another word, or everyone else gets to come back and have another round. Unfortunately, Joey's word was "dignified," and he mis-spelled it completely (it was not a word he had seen before, it's not on the spelling word lists). Everyone got to come back, and this time, he was discombobulated enough to mis-spell the next word ("salute"), so he was out. The two kids who went on? They both mis-spelled their next words, before finally the one child spelled two words correctly in a row and was proclaimed the winner.
Joey was a little upset, but I brought a prize to reward him for even trying the bee. He ran at first, saying he was a loser, that he lost. Mrs. C got down and looked him right in the eye and told him that he was winner, that he was the best speller in the class, reminded him that he had spelled the words correctly when everyone else had missed theirs, and told him how proud she was of him. We sat with the other bee contestants and let him have his present, and all those kids were cheering him and saying things like, "you know you really won, Joey- you were the first winner!" and telling him how great he was. And his class? They lined up and everyone insisted on giving him a high-five, and cheering.
Parents stopped me in the lobby and the parking lot to say, "To us, he was the real winner! He was the one who really won that spelling bee!" If nothing else, he earned his respect, and showed a lot of his peers (and their parents) that he was no pity participant, but a true contestant; one who had, by all rights of the rules of the majority of the game, won. He showed them what true diversity means. We all have strengths. And it is awesome to be unique.
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