Quick Meetings

We had our second Andy Meeting today, but it became quickly apparent that this was not intended as a second eligibility meeting- the invitees were very limited. This was a meeting to say how wonderful Andy is doing in his class.

Good teachers make a huge difference, and Mrs. B absolutely rocks. Andy thrives in a tight ship, and that is definitely what Mrs. B has to offer. She also wanted it in his records: Andy needs structure, and a lot of it. When he has it, he can sit, attend, eat, and regulate. He is a good friend to his classmates, a good model for behavior, and a good listener. When he doesn't have it...

So we will get no formal support for Andy. The psychiatrist is going to chew my butt to mush, but the reality is that Andy can hold it together and make it through a school day. He waits and explodes at home, and that's not the school's province or concern.

We did have a little chat about it, though, because Mrs. B had ADHD kids, so we talked about running him outside and all. The school psych then made some comment about how winter was coming, so that might be more of a problem soon. And out of my mouth slipped, "Why? He has a coat."

It was the comment that showed who stood where in this little meeting- the folks who laughed were on Andy's side.

Introducing: Quille and Chris

Our new goldfish. They have survived a whole week.

The Ebb and Flow of Words

I've been particularly drawn to my children and their use of words lately. Perhaps its because Joey has been using barking more than usual, so when he uses words, I take note. Perhaps I've been reading stuff about communication in a variety of settings lately, so I've been attuned to the listening. But its been interesting.

For example, both boys have been using words more to ask for help, especially when they are looking for something. Andy came in this morning with a quiet "Mommy, please help me find my ball. I can't find it." Naturally, I got up and found the toy desired, and praised him for asking. Not long ago, I would have been awakened by screaming and crying, rather than those quiet words.

Joey has also been into the words for finding. He's still very bad at hunting for lost items, but now he chants, and it takes him longer to get to the point of explosive frustration while trying to find a thing. I wish the chants were something other than, "i can't find it! It's gone! It's not here! Someone took it! It's gone forever!" but it sure beats cutting straight to the screaming.

We also have more words after school. The current rhythm is Andy gets off the bus first, then we walk back to the house to get Joey. Andy will chatter about his school day all the way home- a miracle in and of itself. Joey comes off the bus and tends to barrel in the door, and he's not that interested in talk, but will at least answer a few yes/no questions. That sure beats silence.

So I found it of equal note when words were out of the question. We took Andy to the doctor on Friday because he was sent home with fever and cough, and we're on Flu Alert. Turns out he does have the flu, but not the H1N1 variety, yay. He had no words at all in the presence of the doctor. She wasn't our usual doctor, but a very nice lady all the same- and he had no words at all. He wasn't as chatty as usual eve when she wasn't in the room. Tired boys run out of words. However, I knew he was really on the mend this evening- he spent much of it pacing the livingroom, in constant conversation with himself (he got upset when I thought he was talking to me, and I answered something. Eep.) The return of the constant motion.

I also note that when Joey is upset, he is using words, repeating back words and phrases that upset him. Its actually very annoying when you are upset with him, and he's echoing you, or simply keeps talking, even back-and forth. If you aren't careful, you get caught in a net of exchange that spirals into the abyss, when you shouldn't really answer him in the first place. Not that you can ignore him, but there are evasive responses that work better than actually responding to the words he is saying.

"Joey, please clean up the mess you made."
"Clean up! Clean up!"
"Yes, please. Let's go get some paper towels..."
"Towels?" (spoken as if he has never heard this word before in his life).
"Yes, towels. Please get some paper towels and clean up the spill..."
"Spill? What spill? AAAAA!"
"This spill. Let's get some towels and clean up... "
"Clean up? Clean up? I don't want to clean up."
"You made the mess, you need to clean it up..."
"Up! No! Clean down!"
"We don't clean down, we clean up. We get the water up off the floor with the towel. Now come on, here's a towel, let's..."
"AAAAA! I'm a stupid boy!"
"No, you aren't a stupid boy, you're a very clever boy, but we need to clean up this spill..."
"AAAAAAAAAAAAA! Stupid! Stupid!"

See all the mistakes I made? Instead of feeding into the banter, I should have not really responded to his "clean up!" chant. Instead, I should have just handed him the towels, maybe with a plain, gentle, vague, "yes, dear."

But then, will that be teaching hi to not use his words?

Overload

Ok, smack me upside the head and call me an idiot. This has been the Week That Ate Manhattan.

I currently teach five sections as an adjunct, though the max is 4. Fortunately, the number of students I have did not max out, but it is still a pain, and requires five preps. We were thinking there would only be 3 (since all three live sections are technically the same class), but they are in 3 different formats, so they require 3 different testing and lecture formats. Yikers. (Did I mention I am only being paid for the maximum 4?)

Then one of my colleagues got sick, and is out for the semester, so I took one of their classes. Now, I won't try to pretend this isn't going to be a super-fun course for me to teach- not one of my usual fields, but one I am particularly fond of- but still, that's another class of exams and assignments to grade and lectures to write, and this time on short notice. I lucked out, though- we had a copy of the lecture they were going to give next. So the crunch wasn't too bad.

Then we looked down and realized the floor in my house has no finish on it anymore.

Yep, JoeyAndyDad and I moved the furniture, scrubbed the floor, got up all the tape (why do my kids love tape?), scrubbed again, and... well, we probably should have sanded, but I am sure we'll be doing this again. We put down the polyurethane. It's drying. It's looking better now than it did when I first got it down. I now have a second coat over the worst spots, and gates up to keep the cats out. They are not amused.

While I got the windows open to ventilate (polyurethane stinks to high heaven), I painted some of the sills that desperately needed it.

And did I mention we have some new fish? Oh, and Andy has the flu?

Yes. I am insane. I have all sorts of plans for next week- mostly stuff I didn't get done this week, but had planned to. I have big plans for Christmas. And I have several stitching projects calling my name. Oh, and Joey decided he wants his room painted blue. I haven't even peeked at the garden. But I just know one of these afternoons, I will be sitting my comfortable livingroom, with a clean house, a nice fire in the fireplace, and a nearly-complete cross-stitch project in my lap. Seriously. It is going to happen. Someday.

So that's my excuse for not posting all week. That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it!

Fair Day (Wordless... Tuesday?)

Three Weeks In

When we concluded Andy's eligibility meeting, we already set a date for returning to eligibility. We had a psychiatrist who was so sure he needed an IEP to address his focus, hyperactivity, and sensory issues that she wrote a letter on the spot and lectured me about how I needed to get him in the system and how had I let him go this long without intervention? We had OT recommendations based on the work done with him for two years, with strategies to help him focus and remain on-task and self-regulate. And we had a first-year teacher who said he was just fine. The school psychologist thought he was just fine. The guidance counselor did not. I'm still working on the letter where we note that a gifted student who scores "normal" is having educational performance issues. But I digress.

We are three weeks in. Andy has been behaving himself at school. No timeouts. Treasure Box every three days, right on schedule. I went to the school picnic, and he sat outside in the midst of the kids and actually ate food without getting up once (though he did cling and insist on being hugged tightly). We have had all good days, sunshine, roses, and fun.

Well, at school, anyway.

Once home, we have to be doing very physical activities, or he starts in on Joey. Since I don't want Joey to become a technicolor display of shades of purple, fading to yellow, I have been getting that physicality channeled as best I can. Trucks, trampolines, running, jumping. Homework is a neat trick. We had one good day. The rest have been like asking him to stick bamboo under his fingernails, with level 5 meltdowns. I cleared my kitchen table to be sure they had space to do work, and put together a "homework kit" so I have everything we might need close to hand (crayons, pencils, glue, paper, sharpener...) because sitting down to do the work is bad enough; if they have to be put off while I find the crayons or the pencil sharpener, I might as well forget it. I have also discovered I sometimes need to have things for Joey to do, as he often doesn't have homework (he does it at school while waiting for the bus). You just never know.

Then we work on winding down, except Tuesday, when we have speech therapy for Joey. Then we have to go see Ms. Leslie. OT is on hold right now. For Joey, social skills groups don't start for another week, and our therapist is now only in Stafford, and we can't just schedule him through her any more, we have to go through the receptionist, and the less said about that the better. Let's just say I know I owe them money, but I have no idea how much, because the bills make no sense whatsoever, and when I ask about it she "sends me the ledger" which makes even less sense, and still doesn't total up what I actually owe. I've never had a medical place who couldn't tell me what I actually owe, or have it in big letters on the bottom of the statement (ie, WRITE THE CHECK FOR THIS MUCH AND WE'RE ALL GOOD.) She keeps telling me the number on this bill is that, but it doesn't match up with the payments I've made, and I now know from experience that I usually actually owe them more than this says I owe, for reasons beyond me. And the bill for Andy from them makes even less sense.

But hey, he's doing fine at school. Everything is peachy. I bet we get to the meeting on the 8th and get told he's just fine, nothing to see here. Then what do I do? Whenever I mention that we are having increased problems at home, they all smile and say things like, "well, kids need to unwind some time!" and "oh, what kid likes homework?"

I was unaware that most kids screamed, hit you, and ran off when you asked them to sit and do a coloring page from school, or trace their name. Nor was I aware that this was "unwinding." Do all kids become violent, aggressive, and hoardy when they get home from school? I mean, the trying to eat me out of house and home I understand. The wanting to watch TV, I get that. Even the pushing the trucks or jumping on the trampoline, fine. Even the whining about and lashing out at the brother. But is the Witching Hour really so universal? Is this normal, and I just suck as a parent?

I am pondering what to do when I get told he is doing just fine and wonderful and get those looks of "what's wrong with you, Lady? You just wanted somethin' fer nuthin' and to abuse the system!" Should I cancel the psychiatrist appointment? I mean, why medicate him or anything like that if he's doing so fine and this is all normal? Should I put him more OT, if he's doing just fine at school and they don't think he needs service? After all, the insurance is being weird about paying (or more precisely, NOT paying). I could put that money toward more speech therapy or OT for Joey, or put Andy into nature classes through the rec center or something like that. They have drawing classes for his age group on Wednesday nights, or painting on Thursdays.

And then there is Joey. Talk about Anxiety Mess. The barking is really causing trouble. I went to his picnic, too. He was with a different teacher than i was told he was eating lunch with, and then this teacher told me he'd be having math and core with her, but I was told he was doing that with someone else. Have they changed him again? In a sea of kids, he was eating alone. If I hadn't been there, it would have been completely alone- even his friend D sat with his back to him. The other kids clearly were unused to Joey, and comments like "he's the strange kid that barks" could be plainly heard (and were repeated that afternoon after school). Being a dog also means he is getting those teeth out and in trouble more. He likes to bite my shirt. He got upset about some toys this morning, and when JoeyAndyDad tried to hug him and help calm him down, Joey bit him so hard there's a bruise (which then progressed into a Level 8). The sibling thing isn't helping. Andy tries to get him to play, and he doesn't want to play, so Andy pokes him or hits him, so he hits or bites Andy, who of course slugs him back... you get the picture. Trying to keep them separated is a real trick, because despite all that, they love each other and want to see each other (its a sibling thing). Getting in the car is an adventure in screaming and the back-and-forth beating on each other. Not good for the nerves of a child who is having school stress, too.

I'm glad we got to the fair. Yes, there is stress in being out of schedule, and the long ride, and all the excitement. We had Andy crying because the barns were dark and the midway was loud (complete with hands clamped over ears). We had Joey nervous about the ride he got on last year and didn't like (which, just to note, was not there this year). But there was also rabbits, ducks, chickens, turkeys, geese (or as Andy insisted, giant ducks), cows, horses, sheep, goats, pigs, pumpkins, gourds, crafts, games, and rides. Oh, and ice cream.

I just don't think its normal to declare a victory when you can distract your kids for almost an hour by having one do a simple scratch-through craft and getting the other one a new book about his latest obsession, before they start in on the screaming, biting, hitting, and more screaming (not squealing or just running around playing loudly- screaming). Is it?

This week, I'm planning on getting out the pirate stuff, and see if I can't get that explosive energy at least channeled.

Chikkins

Dear Miss Kitty,

We were thinking of you today. Hope your chikkins are all doing great, as well as all the kittehs, the puppeh, and you. Stay dry. Rock on.

The Way Things Get Said

Autism Speaks has a new ad campaign out there. Its a video that starts as portraying autism as the Bogeyman, then tries to show families as the Anti-Bogeyman. What a great fundraising message: give us or money, or the kids get squished. Oh, and your marriage and finances, too.

I find that offensive.

I won't sit here and try to say raising an autistic child is all sunshine and roses. Nor is it cheap. Schools do not have the resources- or often the education and training- to provide appropriate supports and therapies for autistic kids. Autistic adults are even more on their own. BUt I have said it before, and I will say it again:

Joey isn't sick. This isn't about curing anything, because there is nothing to cure. Just like we put braces on crooked teeth, but we don't talk about the kid being sick. Or we have kids wear glasses to correct vision, but we don't consider that child sick.

Our culture is quick to medicalize everything. This is partly because of insurance. Medical insurance only wants to pay for things that can be put into terms of disease. Developmental differences are not diseases. That's why medical insurance doesn't want to pay for the therapies that help individuals who have them. They want the schools to pay for that, and they have a point. However, there is such a thing a preventive medicine. Getting my child to speak and move now is going to prevent a lot of health issues- very expensive ones- down the road. Just like straightening teeth or correcting vision.

Joey is who he is. He is not a changeling. No bogeyman swept into my house and stole him away. Joey was born autistic, which means his brain is developing differently than other people's brains. In Joey's case, this development has resulted in a disability. His ability to control his body (and even, we think, for his body to control itself) and communicate has been affected by this difference in brain structure and development, and so we need to give him skills that he needs to thrive in a society that is not designed to accommodate differences. Our society's world isn't made for near-sighted people. We give them glasses.

Joey would not be the wonderful, joyful, lovely human being he is if he was not autistic. He would be someone else. Perhaps that person would have also been wonderful, joyful, and lovely. I don't know. He's not that person. I have trouble wrapping my mind around the idea of Joey being someone he isn't. I have no idea why people even try. "If my kid didn't have autism, he would be this other person..." Huh? That is what Autism Speaks would have you believe, and think about, and give them money to get other people to think about. Try it for yourself. If you weren't you, who would you be? See what I mean?

There are many ways of saying the same thing. Autistic people need supports, need understanding, need community, just like everybody else. Why not focus on autistic people as people, as human beings, and appeal to humanity? Has our culture lost so much touch with the idea that we are all in this together?

Edit: What Susan said. That's what I mean.

Wordless Wednesday: Stybirde and Smiley Lolly

Yep, there's Stybirde the cat (prnounced "Sty-bird") and Smiley Happy Guy, now called Smiley Lolly (pronounced "Smolly Lolly").

School is going well?

Now back in the swing, we're having a mixed bag of getting back into the swing. Joey has been doing a lot of barking, his new anxiety behavior. Andy has apparently been holding together nicely for school; he's gotten Treasure Box every third day, like he's supposed to, so he's had no timeouts! Yay!

And then they come home, and the Witching Hour commences. Immediately. Without any baby preliminaries.

See, the trouble with holding your breath all day is that at some point, you need to breathe. In fact, you gasp for air, and try to take deeper breaths than normal to make up for the lost oxygen. He comes home and starts flippery-flopping around like a beached fish. It isn't pretty.

The first few days, I had him play with his trucks out front, but now he refuses to do that; he wants to come inside and arrange his stuffed animals and watch Peep. Well, he has to do homework first. Doing homework after any of these activities was not working, so now, homework first. The Firecracker becomes all sparks and fire. He's ready for some air, and has to hold his breath a little longer. But if I give him air, he doesn't want to hold his breath again even for a minute.

Meanwhile, our words of the week are "idiot" and "stupid." Joey picked these up from Toy Story, and now uses them to amuse himself. Andy has now realized they are powerful words, too. Whenever some one asks them to do something, or tells them something they don't want to hear, that person is stupid. And an idiot. And each other? Stupid idiots. If you reprimand or correct Joey? He says he's a "stupid boy." These words may have to be banned.

I think I may go for a new strategy tomorrow. Boys home, offer pushing of trucks, and if that is a no-go, I'm going to have invented a game that involves the trampoline. A few minutes of bouncing and a light snack, to be followed by homework. And then speech therapy for Joey. Hopefully Wednesday I can follow homework with something fun like making playdough. I'll keep you posted.

Small Adventures of Supermom

School is here, and Andy has been enjoying himself, earning stamps and even two trips to the Treasure Box. This has resulted in two new Treasures: a frog and Smiley Happy Guy. SHG is a yellow bendy figure with a vague similarity to a Walmart nightmare, only with more character.

Joey also has bee collecting treasures, the most interest he has shown in toys in a long time. Yes, he still has his totems, but these seem to be toys being used to actually play, which is great. He has gotten into small stuffed animals, especially of dogs and cats, and he enjoys naming them. The current favorite is a small brown beanie baby he is calling Stybirde. Yes, thats how he spells it. He likes to stroke Stybirde's whiskers and when he's being a dog, Stybirde gets growled at a lot- because hey, its a cat!

Both of these treasures were missing this morning.

Now, to add to the disaster, I am sick. No fever, but coughing, hacking, sneezing, stuffed sinuses, sweat whenever I move SICK. Everybody else in the house seems to be getting over this; here I sit. Since we have no therapies or anything today. and I don't teach today (well, I have online office hours later), I called a personal National Holiday, with my daily goals being to Eat Ice Cream, Get Rest, Take A Nap (which I have not, as of writing this, accomplished), and.... find two missing toys.

I searched the house, and despaired when neither toys appeared before I started dripping sweat everywhere, which wasn't very long. Then it hit me: such popular toys would surely have made it to the car! So in great glee, i snatched up my keys, and headed out to the car.

Nope.

I made their beds, because they often take such small treasures to bed, only to lose them amid the pillows and wadded sheets.

Nope.

I swept up all the toys hiding under their beds. No sign of the ones we wanted. I checked around my own bedroom, in case they brought them when they crept into bed this morning. Nothing.

It was during my second sweep of the downstairs that I noticed a small treasure chest, tucked discretely in a piece of furniture that is supposed to be a wine bar, but for now just holds a lamp. The chest and the table were the same color, so I was lucky to see it at all. I opened it.

No, they weren't in there. But the frog was. And that meant Andy had played here in the last few days. Sure enough, under the wine bar, I swept my hand, and out came Smiley Happy Guy and Stybirde.

And I so totally rock.

Now for that well-earned nap...

In the midst of life

Yes, I know, no posts lately. I am sorry. I've been working, getting the boys settled, working, spending time with friends (!), hugging boys, trying to figure out the barking thing, trying to explain the barking thing to Joey's teacher, and standing in awe of my two wonderful little boys. And then I started sniffing. And now coughing. This might be a long week.

Week One: Almost Done

We're almost through the first week of school. Andy came home with a prize from the Prize Box. Joey's didn't (he's been barking when anxious [pretending to be Scud from Toy Story] and he barked in the library.) Week one hasn't been too bad. We had some bus issues that are resolving. Andy is enjoying riding his own bus. I ran into the special ed teacher that services the IEP kids in Andy's class, and she thinks he's doing great, following all the rules. that's a good sign. What I had to tell her is oh, by the way, he hasn't eaten his breakfast all week. We talked a lot about how Andy's breakfast is in the frog bag, but by the time he gets to school with all the excitement and distraction, he forgets. I think. I'd packed his favorite strawberry rolls in the bag and told him they are in there and everything, trying to get him to eat it. No go.

We're trying to find a rhythm, and get into the groove, as quick as we can, because the quicker the better.

I've had a shower every day this week since school started. Very weird.

I got to go see a friend this morning and have tea. Tomorrow we're going to write a cookbook together. Tomorrow afternoon, when my mom has an errand of her own, I'm going to call another friend I haven't talked to in a while because everything has been so insane. Its going to be a real event!

And look, I can see the floor in the hallway and the counter in the kitchen! I have had some kind of meal prepared for two of the three school nights! (Though I burned Tuesday's dinner- eep). It's amazing. Incredible.

I miss squishing my boys all day, though. When they hop of their buses, I just want to squeeze and smooch them. And all they want is something to eat and to go play outside. We compromise. They play, and stop in for smooch breaks.

Life is good.

Wordless Wednesday: First Day of School

Black Sheep in Snow

Just as I often think of Joey as, well, Joey, and not as autistic or disabled, I often lose sight of the way people around me think. It comes as a bit of a shock that I think so differently from so many people around me- or more exactly, that so many other people think so alike, and I'm not one of them. Perhaps I insulate myself with others who also think differently, so "different" becomes the norm; and when I find myself out in the world, the general herd is a bit of a culture shock. Perhaps all those people think differently, too, but it just comes out a bit of a herd.

One night, some time ago now, I stumbled into a book club down the street for an evening, and stayed for the conversation. The book they were discussing, which I had not read because I just stumbled in on a totally different errand, had a scene where a man apparently was holding a child as a servant (or perhaps a slave; it was a little fuzzy to me, but definitely forced service) and the child got sick and had to be put into the hospital, and the man was bemoaning how horrible was was to himself, and why did these things always happen to him?

Appalled? Shocked? I was. I mean, seriously, there is a kid in a hospital sick, and you're complaining how horrible life is to you? Get a grip, idiot, right? But this little group went on and on about how honest this portrayal was, how we all felt like that, yadda, yadda, yadda. I thought I was appalled before. I beat a hasty retreat after that conversation. Do so many people really think only of themselves?

I don't think Wuthering Heights is a great love story. Ditto for Titanic. I have yet to see an episode of SpongeBob Squarepants that I thought was appropriate for children. Neither Seinfeld nor Friends did anything for me.

Standing at the bus stop, I find myself once again in the crowd. It is an odd feeling. Yesterday, they arrived with their children in neat little outfits, waiting for the bus in the rain. My kids had new shirts and stuff, but I had them in their raincoats. It was raining. Oh, all those parents had rain gear on; but not the kids. This morning they were chatting about nannies. I had nothing to add to that conversation. I must say they are very nice to Joey, trying to engage him and include him with the other kids. I just find I have very little to say, because I have such a different view of the world than these people are painting.

I sometimes wonder what it must be like to live in a world where the lives of famous people you don't know is so engaging, where what they consider a messy house I find cold, clean, even museum-like; where your shower is number one priority in your morning, not the sound of birds or hugging your children. I have a very hard tim even imagining how such a world works. Perhaps I have gotten used to the chaos. Perhaps to me, life is guided chaos, and we only go around once, so explore all the corners and back niches you can find!

Water Water

There is no denying it, we've been having adventures all over, ad I have had little time to write about them. But allow me to back up, and first tackle the best of the best: the Beach.

The beach is something of a give-and-take. Joey loves the beach. He loves the water. He loves the waves. He loves the pool. He loves getting on rides and eating ice cream and popcorn and getting lots of attention from Mom and Dad and Grandma. However, he has just the vaguest suggestion of schedule. Everything around him is new, different, unfamiliar. He doing different things, seeing different people, eating different foods. It can be very overwhelming, especially if he decides he doesn't like what he is doing, seeing, or eating.

To mitigate some of these issues, we brought toys, books, linens, and favorite clothes from home. Oh, and movies. Mom got the boys these great personal dvd players (only one of them stopped working almost right away- Fisher Price isn't what it used to be), so we have movies for them to watch, which made life easier on all of us.

There is nothing quite so wonderful as watching Joey in the ocean. He takes such delight in it! So I surprised that, when given the choice, he wanted to be in the pool. Perhaps being able to be deeper in the water, the calm water perhaps, is attractive; but there is still the sea, in constant motion. Joey spends too many of his days in a state of anxiety and stress, trying to learn, trying to do what he needs to do, and struggling to do it. To relax and just be a little boy- what a breath I hope it is for him.

Sheer joy is what you see in boys at the beach. Of course, they each have their own ways and likes. Andy prefers games. Joey prefers rides. Andy likes an evening darting in the surf in search of shells, Joey prefers bobbing in the pool. To each their own, and it is available to them, at their own leisure.

It was, all in all, a beautiful week of boys, and sand, and crabs, and games, and lights, and feeding the gulls. May we all have such moments in our lives, reminders of what we all work so hard for.

Life With Andy

Wordless Wednesday: Beach Fun

Proving it before the fact

We're back from Eligibility. Special education is a funny thing. You have to provide huge amounts of evidence, and missing a single piece can mean the whole process is derailed, especially if the problem is not academics, but Everything Else.

IDEA is now supposed to cover "functional skills"- a child's ability to participate in a classroom environment with his peers. It is not supposed to be just grade-based. There are many facets to education; you can get all the answers right, and not be able to button your coat or handle the group dynamics, and you should be able to get help to be successful and learn the skills you need to do these things. However, it is far easier to prove an academic problem before hand. It tends to show up on their lovely little standardized tests with nice, neat little numbers to measure.

Having a highly intelligent child complicate things. A child who compensates in a 1:1 setting during testing to come into the "normal" range may actually be able to display real giftedness if given the appropriate accommodations. But how do you prove it? How do you prove a child will have trouble in a classroom until they are actually in one? Do you have to allow a child to fail before providing them with the help they need to succeed?

According to the school, you do.

We had evidence of problems ahead. We had a strongly worded diagnosis and letter from our psychiatrist. We had recommendations and information about Andy in group situations and the problems he had from an occupational therapist who has worked with him for three years. We filled out forms about the behaviors we were seeing at home. It came down to Andy's teacher from last year. You remember, the one who was teaching her first class ever? And her opinion of Andy's behavior based her experience of... one class. In a group of 18 children.

Since her scores all came out "normal", we have no evidence that ADHD is impacting Andy in the classroom. Well, except for the OT's notes. And the psychiatrist's experience.

So we have to let him loose on a teacher and a class with no accommodations for the start of school.

It's not all bad news. His teacher, Mrs. B, was in the meeting, as was Mrs. Huff, so she's well-warned. She also got a look at him (she let us go see her classroom), so she has some idea what we're in for. She does email. We already have the next meeting scheduled, because the guidance counselor looked around the table and made it clear that her prognosis was we would be returning to the table within weeks. The roadblock was exactly where we knew it would be.

I still have a massive headache from the lack of logic and sense here. What is the point of having committees and real people talking about a child, with a child clearly in need of support, if they can't give that child service due to a first-time teacher in a completely different setting can't fill out a form accurately?

A Tale of Two Classrooms

I have a new comment on my initial post about Alex Barton. You can read the post from ablp3391 (using your AIM tag is apparently a new way of being “anonymous”, as you cannot email the person or find out anything about them) for yourself, and take whatever action or inaction that you feel would best suit the situation. But such extreme ignorance- an ignorance apparently shared by Wendy Portillo and her school district at Port St. Lucie, as they apparently share the attitude of the commenter- cannot go unanswered here, where I work so hard to help people understand autism and the ways my son works hard to include himself in society.

Allow me to present you a less extreme case of a Tale of Two Classrooms.

When Andy started preschool, we had some very serious issues of sensory integration dysfunction, and as we now know, hyperactivity and attention deficit. He lasted about a week in his first preschool. His teachers had nothing good to say about him, and it was so traumatic for him that we regressed I hard-won toilet training.

Then came Classroom One.

We regained our ground and put Andy back in school with Mrs. Sch. At his new preschool. The school worked better for him because there was a lot more movement required, which he needed, but also because of Mrs. Sch. On the first day, she made clear that she just wanted to get an idea of him, before talking to me. On the second day, she pulled me aside and said, “OK. Is there something you want to tell me about Andy?” At that point I filled her in and told her the recommendations we had from the OT.

Mrs. Sch. now knew she had a child with special needs in her classroom. She listened to me. As the teacher, Mrs. Sch. was the adult, I control of her classroom, with the goal of meeting the needs of her students. She took that goal and duty very seriously, and changed her classroom and her routines to accommodate my child, ad in turn benefited all of her children. They were transitioned properly, had a clear schedule and daily routine, and even tape Xs on the floor to show them where to sit. These things, and all the rest of the adjustments she made over the year when I was able to provide more information, were good for everyone. Andy made leaps and bounds of progress not just in academic-based skills, but also in social skills and attention.

This last year, we had Classroom Two.

Andy was placed with a teacher who, at the last minute, had to be replaced, and we had Mrs. B, a first-time preschool teacher. Mrs. B has the makings of a fine preschool teacher, and I have no real complaints, but the marked difference in Andy was clear. The schedule was not as clearly posted for the students. The circle was not marked. The classroom had a lot of distractions on the walls. The noise level was higher. Transitions were often abrupt. When I provided the recommendations from the OT, I saw no difference in the classroom environment. We may have gained academic skills, but the sensory integration and social interaction pieces showed some regression, and certainly no progress.

Mrs. B was also aware that she had a special needs student in her classroom. Instead of listening to the parents and experts who provided advice and support, even if the school did not, she chose to run her classroom without this help. As a result, we had more days when Andy had trouble, both in school and (more often) immediately afterwards. Some of these problems will easily send Andy to the discipline office when he arrives at Kindergarten.

In looking at these two classrooms, we see what can happen to students who are not given appropriate support by their teachers. The accommodations needed to support social skills can be very simple, and simplifying and clarifying schedules, roles, and expectations is not just good for kids with special needs: all children benefit from having clarity. Also, Andy learns at a pace similar to that of his peers. Our biggest problem last year was that Joey did not- he was learning academic skills faster than his peers. And that interaction thing? No, Joey doesn’t interact the same way as other people do. But with a little support from his teachers, he can make and maintain friendships, and is learning the same way you might, on-the-job.

So, ablp3391, yes, I do find Wendy Portillo responsible for supporting the students in her classroom. If she was finding it difficult, sending him to the principals office was not an appropriate strategy. Listening to parents and doing some research- there are lots of resources out there now for how to teach autistic students- would have been far more appropriate, far more constructive, and far more proactive. Besides, that is part of the job of being a teacher. I know. I am one.