It's 4:30 in the morning. And I am not asleep. I've been awake since 2:30 just laying in bed. This is not good. I need to sleep. I cannot be an effective mama without adequate rest. Not to mention that I may never get over this viral crud that is now in week number three. Regardless, my body is wide awake, my brain won't stop. Perhaps writing will help clear my head.
It's been a tough transition into fall. There is nothing new about this, we go through this every year. But often times, in the midst of the hard, there is awesomeness. A little beacon of light. This year it came at The Boy's IEP meeting.
For the first time this year, we had The Boy attend his IEP meeting. This is something I've been thinking about for the past couple of years. These meetings are for and about him. What he needs, how we can all help him become the best possible version of himself. Who better to tell us than him?
So I approached his teacher (MB) with the idea. And she was completely on board. We devised a plan that we thought would work.
The Boy is not capable of attending a 1-2 hour long meeting hammering out the nitty gritty of his goals for the year, how they will be measured, how they will be reported, what accommodations and supports will be in place for each one, how much speech therapy, occupational therapy, social skills training he receives each week, when he will be in his GenEd vs SpEd classes etc, etc, etc. But we did want to introduce him to the process, let him know that this entire team of people (10 in all) are here for him. To help him and encourage him and work with him to optimize his growth and development.
But, more importantly, we wanted him to learn that his input was valuable and that we wanted to hear it. These are the seeds of self advocacy.
So we decided that he would attend the first part of the meeting. He would listen as we went around the table, each of us talking about the strengths we see in him, what we enjoy most about him. And then we would begin by asking him what are his 3 favorite things at school, what is he good at. Then asking what is hard for him. The plan was for him to be in the meeting for about 15 minutes.
I wasn't sure how this would go. Meetings are not really his thing. And with his language skills...well sometimes he answers a question and sometimes he doesn't. Sometimes his answer has nothing to do with the question. Language is a huge challenge for him.
The night before the meeting we told him about it and that MB would ask him these questions. We didn't get much of a response about the questions, he just kept talking about going to a meeting. I had no idea what to expect the next afternoon.
At 3:30 the next day we sat around a kid size table in kid size chairs, introduced ourselves to the new comers, and talked about his strengths; there are many. He appeared to not be listening, but I know better. Then MB asked him what was easy for him at school, what were his 3 favorite things.
He immediately answered "PE!"
Pause.
"And recess."
Much longer pause while thankfully everyone waited silently.
"And um, um ... and um ... LUNCH!"
And everyone chuckled just a little. Because yes, these ARE the areas where he does not struggle, or struggles the least. And, what 9 year old boy doesn't love lunch and recess? We were perhaps looking for more academic answers, but his answers were very true to him. And on topic.
MB then asked him what was difficult for him, what was hard for him to do. I'll be honest, I wasn't sure we were going to get an answer here. And if we did, I thought for sure it would be writing, or worksheets, or the generic "school work." Because even though he is making progress in these areas, it IS difficult and arduous for him. He tells me over and over when we do homework that he can't do it, it's too hard. This is what I expected.
But here is what he said: "real-a-loud and closing".
Read-a-loud
Closing
Activities where he is not actively working, but where he has to sit still and quiet, listening. And he didn't just say read-a-loud and closing. He also said "I'm not good at it".
Wow. Just, wow. I mean...wow!
That one answer told me that he is so much more self aware than any of us have given him credit for.
That boy is what my mom would call a "wiggle worm." (Is that really a term or just my mom?) I don't know if it's due to the ADHD or the autism or just being a boy, but he is constant motion. And he talks incessantly. The only time he is still and quiet at home is when he is asleep. That is it. Even laying in bed trying to go to sleep he is moving all over the bed and talking to himself. Out loud. When he watches a movie he is acting it out at the same time. He is incapable of being still and quiet.
Read-a-loud and closing. I'm not good at it.
He knows. He knows where his strengths and weaknesses are. He may not be able to articulate I can't sit still and quiet, it's impossible for me. But he can say he's not good at read-a-loud and closing. He's telling us the same thing the only way he can.
As an outsider watching this boy run and jump and tumble through his days, it would appear that he is unaware of almost everything. But I know better. I see it in his eyes. That boy misses nothing. He sees everything and he hears everything. It is all going into that amazing brain of his. And it is all being stored there. And when the time is right, it will come out.
Read-a-loud and closing. I'm not good at it.
Had anyone ever asked him before what was hardest about school? He's now telling us it's having to sit still and quiet. It not only makes read-a-loud and closing hard, but also schoolwork. When he can't move and be big, when it takes all his energy and mental capacity to sit still in a chair, there is not much left over to concentrate on reading or worksheets. His answer says so much more than just read-a-loud and closing.
He knows. He is telling us. We need to make sure we are listening.
My Side of Typical
Showing posts with label IEP. Show all posts
Showing posts with label IEP. Show all posts
Monday, October 26, 2015
Friday, February 20, 2015
Never Too Late
The Boy is reading.
READING
A BOOK
My boy is READING A BOOK!
WOW! I didn't know if I'd ever type that sentence. And it is amazing, awesome, wonderful, any and all of those adjectives. I am truly astounded. And honestly, a little bit relieved. I have been telling anyone who would listen for the past 2 years that my boy would learn to read. I didn't care it if took until he was 10 or 20 or 30, my boy would read. I knew he was capable, we just had to figure out how to teach him.
A year ago he was no where near ready for this. Oh, we tried. How we tried. We worked on phonics for 2 years. But he just never got it. Phonics was not working for him. At all. He knew the sounds of the letters, he just couldn't translate that into sounding out words. It was frustrating. Very frustrating. For everyone involved.
With the switch to the new school, we switched to a sight reading program. After all, The Boy has a memory like a steel trap. He forgets nothing. (It often comes back to haunt me.) So the new school thought we should capitalize on that to start him on the path to reading. So we put it in his IEP in October; he would start the Edmark Reading Program with the goal of learning 10 sight words this school year. I know, that's not a lofty goal. But with a 9 year old that was not reading at all, we wanted an attainable goal. Rather have a realistic goal that he shatters than a lofty goal he cannot reach. It did not mean that they would stop teaching new words once he reached 10.
And stop they did not. He has now surpassed his goal of 10 words, knowing about twice that many. And the first semester has just ended, we still have half the school year to go! He's leaning 2 new words a week. Small books from the program come home for him to read at night. My boy is reading books to me. This. is. HUGE.
I can honestly tell you that it does not matter if they are 4 years old or 9 years old, the first time your child reads a book to you the joy, pride, excitement, and just plain awesomeness you will feel is the same. It really does not matter how old they are.
A very wise therapist once told me that there are no expiration dates on developmental milestones. None indeed. The Boy has never met a milestone "on time". Not one. Yet he continues to meet them, even master some; all in his own time, in his own way. And we have learned to not only accept his journey, but to respect it. It is an amazing journey to watch.
That kid inspires me. It is never too late.
READING
A BOOK
My boy is READING A BOOK!
WOW! I didn't know if I'd ever type that sentence. And it is amazing, awesome, wonderful, any and all of those adjectives. I am truly astounded. And honestly, a little bit relieved. I have been telling anyone who would listen for the past 2 years that my boy would learn to read. I didn't care it if took until he was 10 or 20 or 30, my boy would read. I knew he was capable, we just had to figure out how to teach him.
A year ago he was no where near ready for this. Oh, we tried. How we tried. We worked on phonics for 2 years. But he just never got it. Phonics was not working for him. At all. He knew the sounds of the letters, he just couldn't translate that into sounding out words. It was frustrating. Very frustrating. For everyone involved.
With the switch to the new school, we switched to a sight reading program. After all, The Boy has a memory like a steel trap. He forgets nothing. (It often comes back to haunt me.) So the new school thought we should capitalize on that to start him on the path to reading. So we put it in his IEP in October; he would start the Edmark Reading Program with the goal of learning 10 sight words this school year. I know, that's not a lofty goal. But with a 9 year old that was not reading at all, we wanted an attainable goal. Rather have a realistic goal that he shatters than a lofty goal he cannot reach. It did not mean that they would stop teaching new words once he reached 10.
And stop they did not. He has now surpassed his goal of 10 words, knowing about twice that many. And the first semester has just ended, we still have half the school year to go! He's leaning 2 new words a week. Small books from the program come home for him to read at night. My boy is reading books to me. This. is. HUGE.
I can honestly tell you that it does not matter if they are 4 years old or 9 years old, the first time your child reads a book to you the joy, pride, excitement, and just plain awesomeness you will feel is the same. It really does not matter how old they are.
A very wise therapist once told me that there are no expiration dates on developmental milestones. None indeed. The Boy has never met a milestone "on time". Not one. Yet he continues to meet them, even master some; all in his own time, in his own way. And we have learned to not only accept his journey, but to respect it. It is an amazing journey to watch.
That kid inspires me. It is never too late.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Curriculum Night
I went to Bambam's curriculum night last night. It is the last curriculum night I will ever attend.
Although on the severe end of the autism spectrum, Bambam attends our local neighborhood grade school where he is assigned to a typical 2nd grade classroom. It is his home room, where he starts and ends the day (when he's having a good day). It is where he attends (most) of the specials, ie: PE, music, art, library (again when he's having a good day). I applaud his school for their dedication to inclusion, we are so grateful for the community of acceptance they have created.
But in all honesty, Bambam spends at least 75% of his day with one of his aides in the learning resource center getting specialized instruction. Because while the other kids in his class are reading in groups, writing in their journals, or doing math worksheets; my son is learning to count to 20, the sounds of the letters, and how to write his name. That is, when they can get him to sit and focus for at least 5 minutes at a time.
Most days I'm good with this. Fact is, we've long since been down the 5 stages of grief road and have firmly landed on acceptance. We've accepted that Bambam is on his own time schedule, he will learn at his own pace. And he does continue to learn and we celebrate each and every one of his small victories.
But, that doesn't mean that there are no longer times when I have a small pity party. And as I sat in that curriculum night listening to his classroom teacher talk about the children leaning to borrow and carry over in their math skills and showed parents their writing journals, I was sitting there hoping that Bambam was having a productive pooping time for daddy so he could wear underwear to school the next day. And it hit me smack in the face yet again. Just how far the gap is between him and his typically developing peers. And it sucks. Sometimes it just sucks.
I cried all the way home. I was a mess the rest of the evening. I was grieving all over again. And really, I don't need that. It doesn't help anyone, least of all Bambam. And isn't that who this is all about?
So I decided I will not attend any more curriculum nights. And if a teacher or other parent thinks I'm "that" parent that doesn't show up or isn't involved, they will simply be wrong. What I am is "that" parent who will focus on what is right for her child.
Although on the severe end of the autism spectrum, Bambam attends our local neighborhood grade school where he is assigned to a typical 2nd grade classroom. It is his home room, where he starts and ends the day (when he's having a good day). It is where he attends (most) of the specials, ie: PE, music, art, library (again when he's having a good day). I applaud his school for their dedication to inclusion, we are so grateful for the community of acceptance they have created.
But in all honesty, Bambam spends at least 75% of his day with one of his aides in the learning resource center getting specialized instruction. Because while the other kids in his class are reading in groups, writing in their journals, or doing math worksheets; my son is learning to count to 20, the sounds of the letters, and how to write his name. That is, when they can get him to sit and focus for at least 5 minutes at a time.
Most days I'm good with this. Fact is, we've long since been down the 5 stages of grief road and have firmly landed on acceptance. We've accepted that Bambam is on his own time schedule, he will learn at his own pace. And he does continue to learn and we celebrate each and every one of his small victories.
But, that doesn't mean that there are no longer times when I have a small pity party. And as I sat in that curriculum night listening to his classroom teacher talk about the children leaning to borrow and carry over in their math skills and showed parents their writing journals, I was sitting there hoping that Bambam was having a productive pooping time for daddy so he could wear underwear to school the next day. And it hit me smack in the face yet again. Just how far the gap is between him and his typically developing peers. And it sucks. Sometimes it just sucks.
I cried all the way home. I was a mess the rest of the evening. I was grieving all over again. And really, I don't need that. It doesn't help anyone, least of all Bambam. And isn't that who this is all about?
So I decided I will not attend any more curriculum nights. And if a teacher or other parent thinks I'm "that" parent that doesn't show up or isn't involved, they will simply be wrong. What I am is "that" parent who will focus on what is right for her child.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Least Restrictive Enironment and Inclusion
Mr. Fix it picked up Bambam from school yesterday. This does not happen very often (read hardly ever). But circumstances were such yesterday that he had the privilege of picking up the little man. (Bambam of course loved this, an afternoon with Daddy all to himself!)
So, it seems this led to a comment by Mr. Fix it last night. He indicated that he thought Bambam should be spending more time in his home classroom. This is a little bit of a touchy subject for me. I of course would love nothing more than for Bambam to BE ABLE to spend his whole school day in a typical classroom. Is this not one of our end goals? For him to function and learn in a typical classroom? But is that what is best for him right now? I don't believe so. He is simply not there yet.
Time with his typical peers is invaluable to him. He learns so much from them. But as far as being able to concentrate and learn academics in a classroom full of them? Forget it, he simply cannot do it at this time. I've been in there with him, I've seen what its like for him. There is way too much going on. He struggles to focus on one thing, to listen to directions, to even answer simple questions. In the hustle and bustle of dropping him off in the morning, he doesn't even respond to kids saying hi to him. I don't think he even hears them. There is too much background noise, movement, chaos. He doesn't know where to look. A simple task like putting his snack in his cubbie (which he could do with no help or prompting in an empty classroom) requires constant prompting and assistance when all the other kids are there. Right now, I think the best place for him to LEARN is one on one in the Learning Resource Center. And recess, gym, library, field trips, etc are the places he can interact with his typical peers.
I don't believe it will always be this way. He is miles ahead of where he was last year. But it will take more time, maturity, and lots more ability to cope before he can actually sit at a desk in a typical classroom and learn from group instruction. He will get there, I know he will. But we need to be patient.
So, it seems this led to a comment by Mr. Fix it last night. He indicated that he thought Bambam should be spending more time in his home classroom. This is a little bit of a touchy subject for me. I of course would love nothing more than for Bambam to BE ABLE to spend his whole school day in a typical classroom. Is this not one of our end goals? For him to function and learn in a typical classroom? But is that what is best for him right now? I don't believe so. He is simply not there yet.
Time with his typical peers is invaluable to him. He learns so much from them. But as far as being able to concentrate and learn academics in a classroom full of them? Forget it, he simply cannot do it at this time. I've been in there with him, I've seen what its like for him. There is way too much going on. He struggles to focus on one thing, to listen to directions, to even answer simple questions. In the hustle and bustle of dropping him off in the morning, he doesn't even respond to kids saying hi to him. I don't think he even hears them. There is too much background noise, movement, chaos. He doesn't know where to look. A simple task like putting his snack in his cubbie (which he could do with no help or prompting in an empty classroom) requires constant prompting and assistance when all the other kids are there. Right now, I think the best place for him to LEARN is one on one in the Learning Resource Center. And recess, gym, library, field trips, etc are the places he can interact with his typical peers.
I don't believe it will always be this way. He is miles ahead of where he was last year. But it will take more time, maturity, and lots more ability to cope before he can actually sit at a desk in a typical classroom and learn from group instruction. He will get there, I know he will. But we need to be patient.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Panic
The panic is creeping in. I feel it in my bones, pulsing through my veins. It's the kind of panic that wakes me up at night. I may be over reacting, probably am. But it's how I respond.
School is starting in less than a week, 5 days. Bambam is transitioning into first grade. And we do not have an IEP in place, we have no plan for supports, no 1 to 1 aid. He has not met his teacher or seen his classroom. I have no idea how he is going to make it through a 6 hour day of first grade.
This child who struggles with transitions and change, who struggles to sit for 20 minutes of table work, who cannot follow multiple step directions, who has visual and auditory sensitivities, who struggles just to BE in a classroom, let alone function appropriately and learn. This child who had a 1 to 1 aid in kindergarten and still had to leave the classroom every 20-30 minutes to decompress and regroup. How will he possibly make it through 6 hours of a chaotic first grade class?
I know deep down that his school will take care of him. We are one of the lucky ones with an amazing team who do everything they can to help Bambam reach his potential. They care about him, they enjoy him, they celebrate his talents, they do what they can to alleviate his struggles. They are honesty on his side and we refer to them as "Team Bambam". Even so, I feel unprepared. And that makes me uncertain how to prepare Bambam. And he needs preparation.
Even with preparation and supports in place, first grade is going to be a stretch. I worry daily about this. What will we do if he cannot function through a 6 hour day? Will we need to consider a "self-contained" classroom? This is one of my biggest fears. He learns so much from being around his typical peers, I do not want him isolated. The panic is creeping in.
School is starting in less than a week, 5 days. Bambam is transitioning into first grade. And we do not have an IEP in place, we have no plan for supports, no 1 to 1 aid. He has not met his teacher or seen his classroom. I have no idea how he is going to make it through a 6 hour day of first grade.
This child who struggles with transitions and change, who struggles to sit for 20 minutes of table work, who cannot follow multiple step directions, who has visual and auditory sensitivities, who struggles just to BE in a classroom, let alone function appropriately and learn. This child who had a 1 to 1 aid in kindergarten and still had to leave the classroom every 20-30 minutes to decompress and regroup. How will he possibly make it through 6 hours of a chaotic first grade class?
I know deep down that his school will take care of him. We are one of the lucky ones with an amazing team who do everything they can to help Bambam reach his potential. They care about him, they enjoy him, they celebrate his talents, they do what they can to alleviate his struggles. They are honesty on his side and we refer to them as "Team Bambam". Even so, I feel unprepared. And that makes me uncertain how to prepare Bambam. And he needs preparation.
Even with preparation and supports in place, first grade is going to be a stretch. I worry daily about this. What will we do if he cannot function through a 6 hour day? Will we need to consider a "self-contained" classroom? This is one of my biggest fears. He learns so much from being around his typical peers, I do not want him isolated. The panic is creeping in.
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