This article (http://www.cbsnews.com/news/kentucky-officer-handcuffed-mentally-disabled-kids-as-punishment-lawsuit-says/) is making the rounds on social media. It is all over my Facebook page and on every special needs/autism pages I visit. I've read the article, but can't bring myself to watch the accompanying video. It is too horrifying for me. I am shocked that this just keeps happening. Over and over and over again. From Special Ed teachers hanging kids upside down in garbage cans to kids being locked in "safe rooms" isolated alone for hours at a time. When will this stop? How is it that the children that need the most care and understanding seemingly receive the least.
I rarely do, but this time I shared the article on my personal FB feed with the comment that although I didn't know the specifics of this case, I couldn't think of a reason a 50 pound 8 year old would need to be handcuffed. Ever. Especially not one with special needs. It is just not appropriate. As you can imagine, I got comments. And not surprising, the ones that bother me the most are the ones that imply kids just need more guidance and discipline. If parents would do their job, this wouldn't be necessary.
I'm the first to admit that yes, there are unfortunately kids out there who are not being parented or disciplined. There could be any number of reasons for this and I try (now) not to judge. I'm sure it does make our educators jobs that much tougher. It's probably not easy to be a teacher. But lack of discipline is not always the reason for these behaviors.
I used to be one of those people who blamed poor behavior on lack of parenting and discipline. I'm ashamed to admit that I have judged numerous parents and deemed them unworthy, doing their kids a disservice. I used to not truly believe that ADHD was a valid diagnosis, I said that I would never "drug" my child. The list of things I used to say goes on and on.
But God has a way of opening our hearts and teaching us the lessons we need to learn. And in my case He did so with the beautiful gift that is my youngest son. No one who knows me would accuse me of not providing guidance and discipline to my children. I parent. Certainly not perfectly, but I really try to do my best to raise healthy, responsible, kind humans. And even with my best efforts, The Boy still has occasional "behavior problems".
Children with autism or ADHD or other special needs can't always control their behavior. When they lash out, it's not a choice. It's not an act of defiance. In the case of The Boy, it's usually because he's become completely overwhelmed, has basically shut down and his "fight or flight" response has been triggered. Thankfully, he is not a runner, but he fights (not so thankfully).
It is hard for me to admit that my child has punched an educational aid breaking her nose. He has thrown a chair into a smart board, breaking the smart board. Thankfully these incidents are few and far between. And both these incidents happened several years ago. Back when his expressive language was limited and he struggled to communicate. We work with him constantly on appropriate behaviors, how to mitigate his challenges, how to find his voice of self advocacy, how to use his words to express his feelings. But even though we work with him constantly, we still occasionally struggle with behaviors.
Just last week we were out and about when a nearby baby started crying. I don't know why, but a crying baby or toddler is a trigger for The Boy. If you know, you can see the reaction. His head jerks up, his eyes get huge, his whole body gets stiff, you can see his mind shut down and his fight or flight response take over. He loses his language. And in the case last week, where I didn't notice the cries and didn't prepare for the response, he ran straight to me. And kicked me as hard as he could. It hurt like crazy. It took everything I had, but I didn't react. It took me about a nano second to realize what happened. So I again tried to work with him on what to do instead. I reminded him that he cannot kick or hit, that he needs to try and use his words: Baby crying. Too loud. Scares me. Leave. Go home. Short, brief statements of self advocacy. Before he can learn to process the cries and tolerate them, he has to know he can escape them and feel safe. Only after he feels safe can we talk about why the baby cries. He might be hungry or cold. The baby can't talk so he cries to tell his mommy what he needs. His mommy will help him and then the cries will stop. All of this over and over and over again with the hope that eventually he will be able to process the crying, advocate for what he needs and not have to fight his way through it. But it takes tons and tons (and tons) of patience and consistency and care and understanding by everyone who interacts with him on a regular basis. What he doesn't need is to be handcuffed by a big policeman with little or no training in how to respond to a child with special needs.
That would simply further traumatize my child. And here is what happens when my child is severely traumatized. He doesn't forget. Ever. And he will never return to the place of the trauma, or any place similar. He simply would not go to school any more. And every time he saw a police officer, his fight or flight response would trigger. You may think I'm exaggerating a bit. But I assure you I am not.
Three years ago we attended a street fair. These are difficult for The Boy as they are generally loud, crowded, and a little crazy. But he was holding it together. In the middle of the fair, he had an encounter that for whatever reason sent him over the edge. He immediately started to meltdown and insisted on going home. We left. Ever since then, he will not go to the location of that fair. He simply won't. Even when there is no fair. And he won't go to a street fair anywhere. If he sees pop up tents, his fight or flight response immediately engages. His anxiety goes through the roof and he begins to meltdown. Three years later we are still dealing with this. Imagine if you handcuffed this child at school, in the throws of a meltdown. He would never forget it. For the rest of ever. It would make things a thousand times worse.
I am so very thankful that our school understands this. That when The Boy is in the middle of a meltdown and trying to fight his way out (literally), they don't call the police. They remove him from the situation, take him someplace safe (usually outside) to work through it, and they call me to come take him home for the day. I'm doubly thankful that his hasn't happened since first grade. But there are no guarantees that it won't happen again some time in the future.
So when I read these stories, yes I take them personally. When I see that 50 pound 8 year old sitting in a chair facing the corner with handcuffs on his biceps, I see my child. And when I hear someone say that all this could be avoided if the child's parents would just do their job, well honestly I'm almost speechless. Almost. But not quite, or I wouldn't be writing about it.
I have never parented with such dedication as I am right now. My older boys did not take nearly as much time, effort, patience, consistency, love, care, understanding... The list goes on and on. To hear someone say that these situations could be avoided if parents would do their job just crushes me. I don't know how to do this any better. I am giving 100% every day. And to have someone negate that in one simple sentence is crushing. I would invite any one of them into my life for just one day. Just one day. I guarantee it would change their perspective forever.
Where am I going with this? Its really 2 fold. Please, please, please don't be so quick to judge. We do not know all the specifics of this case, we rarely do. This boy's parents may be doing everything they know how to help him. But it is a long, slow process. Or, they may be absent, disengaged parents who are over burdened with no supports and burned out. My point is WE DO NOT KNOW. And I, for one, am not going to pass judgement on them. And even if they are disengaged parents "not doing their job", is it the fault of the boy? Does he deserve to be in handcuffs as a result of poor parenting, something he has no control over? No matter the circumstances, I would argue that what he needs is care and understanding and a safe place to calm down. He needs help not handcuffs.
Secondly, we desperately need more advocacy and training. Teachers, administrators, and emergency response people (just to name a few) need training. Even if a child does not have special needs, the techniques used to defuse a meltdown can be used to help a "typical" child calm down. Training and education would benefit everyone.
And I stand by my original statement. I can't think of a reason a 50 pound 8 year old would ever need to be handcuffed.
My Side of Typical
Showing posts with label ADHD. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ADHD. Show all posts
Friday, August 21, 2015
Thursday, August 6, 2015
All My Free Time
I work part-time. It's great. The best of both worlds for me. I cannot be a full time stay at home mom. I tried that once and just about went stir crazy. I need some adult interaction and I need to use my brain just a little bit every day. So for me, part time is the answer. This is what works FOR ME. I believe we are all created differently and what works for each of us is different. This is not a post about SAHM's vs working mom's. I really don't care what you do as long as it works for you and your kids. So lets all just do what works for us and not worry about what our neighbor is doing. Now, back to my post.
Since I work part-time, I sometimes get the what do you do with all your free time? Or, what do you do when you are not working? Or good for you, you have some free time to relax. And I laugh and laugh and laugh. Here is an example of what I do in my "free me time".
The Boy had a med check appointment with his doctor last Tuesday. Yes, we use medication in our multifaceted arsenal of tools we utilize to help The Boy mitigate his many challenges. Don't judge. Medication has changed his life, for the better. He cannot function without it. So, we had a med check last Tuesday, like we do every three months. And I left with 3 months worth of scripts for his "controlled substance" med. I went directly to the pharmacy and dropped them off.
Upon picking them up, one of them had a sticker on it saying the pills may look different, but it is the same medication. The pharmacy had changed generics. Not a big deal, I really didn't think much of it. I proceeded to give The Boy his afternoon meds from this new bottle.
After three days it became apparent that this new generic was not working for him. He was a disaster. That child has the most sensitive system I've ever been privileged to witness. He reacts to so many things, one of which is red dye. And the new generic pills were a very, very, very light orange. I should have realized it before giving any to him. But no, it took us 3 days to put the pieces together. Another mommy fail. Sigh.
So, off to the pharmacy I go with the offending pills in hand. After a long discussion with the pharmacist (who luckily didn't poohoo me when I said The Boy doesn't tolerate red dye) he indicated they could order the previous generics and note in his file that he could only take that brand. BUT, in order to give us a new bottle of the old generics, he would need a new script from the doctor since its a controlled substance. Okay.
Phone call #1 to the doctor's office. He is on vacation. It is Friday. I need to get this handled today. Phone call #2 from the nurse for the on call doctor who doesn't know me or my child and I'm sure is questioning why I'm asking for another script for a controlled substance that I just got filled. I repeat my story for the third time today. Phone call #3 from the on call doctor where I repeat my story yet again. And this time I offer to give him the bottle of offending pills if he will just please give us a new script. Phone call #4, on call doctor calls the pharmacy to verify my story with the pharmacist. Phone call #5 on call doctor calls me back asking more questions and finally agrees to write a new script, which I have to pick up in person and hand deliver to the pharmacy. They cannot send a script for a controlled substance electronically.
So, off to the pharmacy I go all pleased with myself that I've gotten this handled in just half a day, 5 phone calls and 2 trips to the pharmacy. Go mom! Not so fast mom. The insurance companies (both of them) refuse to pay for a prescription they've just paid for 3 days ago. I understand this. But this is not my first rodeo people. I know they can and do make exceptions. And for $250 I will make that extra phone call and plead for an exception. Back home I go, no prescription in hand.
Phone call #6, I talk to our primary insurance company. The lady is very nice, but cannot authorize a prescription override. She leaves a message with the correct person to call me. Phone call #7, said person calls me and indicates she has to talk to the pharmacy before she can authorize an override. I ask her to please call me back when she is done so I know when to go pick up the meds. 2 hours later I still haven't received a phone call. We are quickly coming up on the afternoon time when The Boy needs to take these meds. Phone call #8, I call said person back asking about progress. She says she hasn't gotten to it yet, its not considered an emergency. At which point I just about loose it and hang up.
As luck would have it, Mr. Fixit walked in from work right then. When I can't get something done, Mr. Fixit can. He has ... um... different ways of persuasion. Phone call #9, he calls said person back and persuades her that it is an emergency and we need an OK within 30 minutes. (I think there was a discussion about what happens if The Boy doesn't take this med on time and a threat to drop him off at said person's house tonight for her to witness first hand) Whatever, it worked.
8 hours after I first walked into the pharmacy that morning, after 9 phone calls, 1 trip to the doctor's office, and three trips to the pharmacy, Mr. Fixit came home with the correct generic meds. He did end up having to pay the $10 copay as neither one of us was willing to deal with the secondary insurance who usually picks up the copay. It just wasn't worth any more phone calls to save the $10.
So, this is what I do in my down time. Seriously, I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.
Since I work part-time, I sometimes get the what do you do with all your free time? Or, what do you do when you are not working? Or good for you, you have some free time to relax. And I laugh and laugh and laugh. Here is an example of what I do in my "free me time".
The Boy had a med check appointment with his doctor last Tuesday. Yes, we use medication in our multifaceted arsenal of tools we utilize to help The Boy mitigate his many challenges. Don't judge. Medication has changed his life, for the better. He cannot function without it. So, we had a med check last Tuesday, like we do every three months. And I left with 3 months worth of scripts for his "controlled substance" med. I went directly to the pharmacy and dropped them off.
Upon picking them up, one of them had a sticker on it saying the pills may look different, but it is the same medication. The pharmacy had changed generics. Not a big deal, I really didn't think much of it. I proceeded to give The Boy his afternoon meds from this new bottle.
After three days it became apparent that this new generic was not working for him. He was a disaster. That child has the most sensitive system I've ever been privileged to witness. He reacts to so many things, one of which is red dye. And the new generic pills were a very, very, very light orange. I should have realized it before giving any to him. But no, it took us 3 days to put the pieces together. Another mommy fail. Sigh.
So, off to the pharmacy I go with the offending pills in hand. After a long discussion with the pharmacist (who luckily didn't poohoo me when I said The Boy doesn't tolerate red dye) he indicated they could order the previous generics and note in his file that he could only take that brand. BUT, in order to give us a new bottle of the old generics, he would need a new script from the doctor since its a controlled substance. Okay.
Phone call #1 to the doctor's office. He is on vacation. It is Friday. I need to get this handled today. Phone call #2 from the nurse for the on call doctor who doesn't know me or my child and I'm sure is questioning why I'm asking for another script for a controlled substance that I just got filled. I repeat my story for the third time today. Phone call #3 from the on call doctor where I repeat my story yet again. And this time I offer to give him the bottle of offending pills if he will just please give us a new script. Phone call #4, on call doctor calls the pharmacy to verify my story with the pharmacist. Phone call #5 on call doctor calls me back asking more questions and finally agrees to write a new script, which I have to pick up in person and hand deliver to the pharmacy. They cannot send a script for a controlled substance electronically.
So, off to the pharmacy I go all pleased with myself that I've gotten this handled in just half a day, 5 phone calls and 2 trips to the pharmacy. Go mom! Not so fast mom. The insurance companies (both of them) refuse to pay for a prescription they've just paid for 3 days ago. I understand this. But this is not my first rodeo people. I know they can and do make exceptions. And for $250 I will make that extra phone call and plead for an exception. Back home I go, no prescription in hand.
Phone call #6, I talk to our primary insurance company. The lady is very nice, but cannot authorize a prescription override. She leaves a message with the correct person to call me. Phone call #7, said person calls me and indicates she has to talk to the pharmacy before she can authorize an override. I ask her to please call me back when she is done so I know when to go pick up the meds. 2 hours later I still haven't received a phone call. We are quickly coming up on the afternoon time when The Boy needs to take these meds. Phone call #8, I call said person back asking about progress. She says she hasn't gotten to it yet, its not considered an emergency. At which point I just about loose it and hang up.
As luck would have it, Mr. Fixit walked in from work right then. When I can't get something done, Mr. Fixit can. He has ... um... different ways of persuasion. Phone call #9, he calls said person back and persuades her that it is an emergency and we need an OK within 30 minutes. (I think there was a discussion about what happens if The Boy doesn't take this med on time and a threat to drop him off at said person's house tonight for her to witness first hand) Whatever, it worked.
8 hours after I first walked into the pharmacy that morning, after 9 phone calls, 1 trip to the doctor's office, and three trips to the pharmacy, Mr. Fixit came home with the correct generic meds. He did end up having to pay the $10 copay as neither one of us was willing to deal with the secondary insurance who usually picks up the copay. It just wasn't worth any more phone calls to save the $10.
So, this is what I do in my down time. Seriously, I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.
Monday, March 2, 2015
Dear Couple...
Dear couple standing behind us in line at the grocery store,
I'm sure you are usually very nice, polite, and respectful people. But not always.
We could hear you. I can assure that while you were whispering about my poor parenting and his bad behavior and maybe there is something wrong with him, that there is nothing wrong with my son's hearing. If I heard you, I can guarantee he did too. His hearing is 10 times better than mine. He can hear a hushed conversation in the next room through a closed door. Yes, he heard you talking about him.
And the pointing and furtive glances were a little obvious.
I realize his behavior is different. It can be almost unbearable on the bad days. A meltdown from sensory overload in the middle of a grocery store is not fun for anyone. In the entire store. But today was not a bad day. Today was actually a pretty good day. I would even consider it a win.
You see, he did his very best to keep it together while we stopped at the grocery store for a couple of needed items on our way home. This was after a full day of school and an additional 1.5 hours of speech therapy.
For my son who is autistic, a full 6 hours of school and the speech therapy on top of it pretty much takes everything he has. But I made the decision to push him a little today and make the added stop on the way home. And he was working really hard to maintain during this stop. Yes, he was bouncing around more than most kids would. And yes, he was talking a little too loudly, and about the same thing over and over (wanting to eat the bagel he had selected). And I'm sorry he bumped into you, but he did stop his verbal stimming (look it up) and said "I sorry". So, I honestly think he did a great job. A definite win.
I realize that you didn't understand. Some times I think it's easier when he has a really bad day. At least then it is obvious to most people that he has special needs and is not just misbehaving. But on the good days, when he could almost "pass" his challenges are not as obvious. What looks like a typical kid misbehaving and acting spoiled is actually a child with challenges working really hard to mitigate them. At a time when he deserves praise and acknowledgement, you are judging and condemning him. And me, but I don't really care about me. I've grown pretty thick skin.
So yes, you heard me right as we were walking out of the store. I did tell my son that he did a great job. That I was very proud of him for doing such a good job in the store. I saw you turn around and give me that "look". Was it disapproval, disbelief, disdain? I'm not sure but it definitely wasn't a look of encouragement or understanding, that I know for sure.
I wasn't sure how to respond to your look. I honestly don't encounter that look very often. I'm grateful that we most often encounter understanding, encouragement, and accommodations. So your attitude, your look, took me a little by surprise. Not knowing how to react, I simply smiled at you and guided my son in the other direction while he happily munched on his bagel.
I realize the world is full of uneducated, judgmental people. And I simply do not have time to education all of them. My priority is my son. But I would like to ask of you just one simple thing. Be careful when you judge what you see. Things are not always as they appear. Sometimes a smile of encouragement might be more helpful than a judgmental sneer. A little kindness goes a long way. Just a thought. It might make some mama's day just a little bit brighter.
Signed,
One proud mama of her special boy
I'm sure you are usually very nice, polite, and respectful people. But not always.
We could hear you. I can assure that while you were whispering about my poor parenting and his bad behavior and maybe there is something wrong with him, that there is nothing wrong with my son's hearing. If I heard you, I can guarantee he did too. His hearing is 10 times better than mine. He can hear a hushed conversation in the next room through a closed door. Yes, he heard you talking about him.
And the pointing and furtive glances were a little obvious.
I realize his behavior is different. It can be almost unbearable on the bad days. A meltdown from sensory overload in the middle of a grocery store is not fun for anyone. In the entire store. But today was not a bad day. Today was actually a pretty good day. I would even consider it a win.
You see, he did his very best to keep it together while we stopped at the grocery store for a couple of needed items on our way home. This was after a full day of school and an additional 1.5 hours of speech therapy.
For my son who is autistic, a full 6 hours of school and the speech therapy on top of it pretty much takes everything he has. But I made the decision to push him a little today and make the added stop on the way home. And he was working really hard to maintain during this stop. Yes, he was bouncing around more than most kids would. And yes, he was talking a little too loudly, and about the same thing over and over (wanting to eat the bagel he had selected). And I'm sorry he bumped into you, but he did stop his verbal stimming (look it up) and said "I sorry". So, I honestly think he did a great job. A definite win.
I realize that you didn't understand. Some times I think it's easier when he has a really bad day. At least then it is obvious to most people that he has special needs and is not just misbehaving. But on the good days, when he could almost "pass" his challenges are not as obvious. What looks like a typical kid misbehaving and acting spoiled is actually a child with challenges working really hard to mitigate them. At a time when he deserves praise and acknowledgement, you are judging and condemning him. And me, but I don't really care about me. I've grown pretty thick skin.
So yes, you heard me right as we were walking out of the store. I did tell my son that he did a great job. That I was very proud of him for doing such a good job in the store. I saw you turn around and give me that "look". Was it disapproval, disbelief, disdain? I'm not sure but it definitely wasn't a look of encouragement or understanding, that I know for sure.
I wasn't sure how to respond to your look. I honestly don't encounter that look very often. I'm grateful that we most often encounter understanding, encouragement, and accommodations. So your attitude, your look, took me a little by surprise. Not knowing how to react, I simply smiled at you and guided my son in the other direction while he happily munched on his bagel.
I realize the world is full of uneducated, judgmental people. And I simply do not have time to education all of them. My priority is my son. But I would like to ask of you just one simple thing. Be careful when you judge what you see. Things are not always as they appear. Sometimes a smile of encouragement might be more helpful than a judgmental sneer. A little kindness goes a long way. Just a thought. It might make some mama's day just a little bit brighter.
Signed,
One proud mama of her special boy
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
September
I didn't write much in September. September was a hard month. Bambam had a tough time adjusting to the transition to school. I was both surprised and a little disappointed by this. I know I shouldn't be. But I'm human, and disappointment is a natural human emotion.
You see, Bambam had such a stellar summer. I mean he was a rock star. He went to day camp, he fully potty trained, he made significant gains in language, his imaginative play exploded. I could go on and on, but you get the idea. It was a great summer. The best he's ever had.
So when we got ready to transition into school, and he was so excited for school to start, we naturally assumed he would continue to be that rock star. Contributing to our confidence was the fact that his school does a 1-2 loop, meaning he would be in the same classroom with the same teacher and the same kids as last year. No changes. And he would have the same 1 to 1 aid. It was a recipe for success. Or so we thought.
What we failed to recognize was that the little adjustments (at least we thought they were little) we made to his daily schedule would really throw him off, causing major anxiety and frustration. The first of which was lengthening his day to the full school day.
Last year, he left school an hour early every day. This year he stays until 2:45. But every day at 1:45 he looks at his aid, the amazing "E", and says "home time now". His internal clock is incredible. He cannot tell time. At least, I don't think he can. He can just now recognize and name numbers 1-9. But he's had an amazing internal clock since the day he was born. As an infant, you could set your watch by his sleeping and feeding times. He was always spot on. So now, every day at 1:45 he thinks its time to go home. And "E" is struggling to convince him that its still school time. He is staying, but he's done with working for the day. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, they have PE at the end of the day, those days go OK. My athletic little guy shines at PE. Its the one place where he really fits in, where he actually outshines many of his peers. He LOVES PE.
But on Mondays and Wednesdays they have Music and Art respectively at the end of the day. And these are not going so well. With very (and I can't stress very enough) delayed fine motor skills, Art is a huge frustration for him under the best of circumstances. These are not the best of circumstances. He has ripped a project, thrown a project, painted his aid (and himself), and generally been wreaking havoc all over the art room. He's had to leave the art room. I've been called to the school. More than once.
In addition, more is being asked of Bambam. He is having more structured schoolwork time, we call it table time. He HATES table time. Sitting for more than 30 seconds is a challenge for him. But, we decided it was time to do just that, challenge him a little more. He must complete 3 academic tasks, then gets a reward of his choice. Did I mention Bambam hates table time? At one point his frustration escalated to a chair being thrown into the smart board. And me being called to the school yet again.
This was not the start to school that I had envisioned.
And there it is. This was not what I had anticipated, what I thought was going to happen. It was not meeting my expectations. Who said I get to choose how things are going to go? I need to learn to let go of my expectations. Lesson learned.
Update, September 2014
I wrote this last year and never published it. I'm not sure why. But I am now. Because we are having the same sort of start to this school year. Transitions are so very hard on our spectrum kiddos. And this year he does have a new classroom and a new teacher and new classmates. My boy who every day this summer has asked to go to school is now asking every morning to go to camp. Its going to be a long September. Sigh.
You see, Bambam had such a stellar summer. I mean he was a rock star. He went to day camp, he fully potty trained, he made significant gains in language, his imaginative play exploded. I could go on and on, but you get the idea. It was a great summer. The best he's ever had.
So when we got ready to transition into school, and he was so excited for school to start, we naturally assumed he would continue to be that rock star. Contributing to our confidence was the fact that his school does a 1-2 loop, meaning he would be in the same classroom with the same teacher and the same kids as last year. No changes. And he would have the same 1 to 1 aid. It was a recipe for success. Or so we thought.
What we failed to recognize was that the little adjustments (at least we thought they were little) we made to his daily schedule would really throw him off, causing major anxiety and frustration. The first of which was lengthening his day to the full school day.
Last year, he left school an hour early every day. This year he stays until 2:45. But every day at 1:45 he looks at his aid, the amazing "E", and says "home time now". His internal clock is incredible. He cannot tell time. At least, I don't think he can. He can just now recognize and name numbers 1-9. But he's had an amazing internal clock since the day he was born. As an infant, you could set your watch by his sleeping and feeding times. He was always spot on. So now, every day at 1:45 he thinks its time to go home. And "E" is struggling to convince him that its still school time. He is staying, but he's done with working for the day. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, they have PE at the end of the day, those days go OK. My athletic little guy shines at PE. Its the one place where he really fits in, where he actually outshines many of his peers. He LOVES PE.
But on Mondays and Wednesdays they have Music and Art respectively at the end of the day. And these are not going so well. With very (and I can't stress very enough) delayed fine motor skills, Art is a huge frustration for him under the best of circumstances. These are not the best of circumstances. He has ripped a project, thrown a project, painted his aid (and himself), and generally been wreaking havoc all over the art room. He's had to leave the art room. I've been called to the school. More than once.
In addition, more is being asked of Bambam. He is having more structured schoolwork time, we call it table time. He HATES table time. Sitting for more than 30 seconds is a challenge for him. But, we decided it was time to do just that, challenge him a little more. He must complete 3 academic tasks, then gets a reward of his choice. Did I mention Bambam hates table time? At one point his frustration escalated to a chair being thrown into the smart board. And me being called to the school yet again.
This was not the start to school that I had envisioned.
And there it is. This was not what I had anticipated, what I thought was going to happen. It was not meeting my expectations. Who said I get to choose how things are going to go? I need to learn to let go of my expectations. Lesson learned.
Update, September 2014
I wrote this last year and never published it. I'm not sure why. But I am now. Because we are having the same sort of start to this school year. Transitions are so very hard on our spectrum kiddos. And this year he does have a new classroom and a new teacher and new classmates. My boy who every day this summer has asked to go to school is now asking every morning to go to camp. Its going to be a long September. Sigh.
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
What's his thing?
I don't know about the rest of the autism parents out there, but whenever I'm in public and my son's diagnosis comes up I'm frequently asked some version of the "what is his thing" question. Um...his thing? Oh, you know, does he count cards, know what day of the week any date was, play Mozart by ear? His special skill?
It is a very common layperson's perspective that autistic people have a special skill, known as Savant Syndrome. In actuality, only 1-10% of the autistic population also have Savant Syndrome. My son is not one of them. In fact, in most academic areas he falls about 2 years behind his peers. And he has no musical ability that we've seen. In fact, he didn't even start singing until just this past year. He has exactly 3 songs in his repertoire: Happy Birthday, Old McDonald, and Baba Black Sheep. So no, we've seen no sign of Savant Syndrome.
I bring this up because the other day I heard the very best question about this subject. Bambam participates in an adaptive sports program called STAR Sports. I've written about the program several times. It is wonderful. It was developed by a college student (we'll call her A) and is run completely by A and a group of volunteer students. They are amazing. And Bambam loves it.
Bambam is extremely athletic, which is sort of amazing considering he didn't walk until he was almost 2. But now, at the age of 7, that child is really an amazing athlete. Any sport with a ball is second nature to him. I've actually seen him kick a football through a basketball hoop. More than once. On purpose. He can beat anyone at a game of horse on the basketball court. His first time on the golf course, at the age of 6, he drove the ball to the green on his first par 3 shot. Seriously, people stop to watch. So its no surprise that he sort of shines at STAR sports, which is focusing on soccer right now.
At the first fall session, A's parents had come from out of town to see the program she had developed. They sat next to me and they were so proud, as they should be. A is a wonderful, caring young lady. She is going to take the world by storm. I had a great conversation with her parents. And as I was talking to them, this took place:
A's parents: Is that your son out there in the green shirt?
Me: Yes, that's Bambam.
A's parents: How old is he?
Me: He's 7.
A's parents: Wow, he's big. I thought he was 10. And he's so athletic. His eye/hand coordination is incredible. Do you mind if I ask what his diagnosis is?
Me: Oh, no. He's autistic. And yes, he is big. And athletic.
A's parents: Is that his special skill, athletics?
And that's when I couldn't help laughing out loud. But I decided that I was going to just go with it. Why yes, his Savant Skill is athleticism. We've finally found it.
I love it. From now on when I get the "what's his thing" question, I'm going to answer athletics. Just go with it people.
It is a very common layperson's perspective that autistic people have a special skill, known as Savant Syndrome. In actuality, only 1-10% of the autistic population also have Savant Syndrome. My son is not one of them. In fact, in most academic areas he falls about 2 years behind his peers. And he has no musical ability that we've seen. In fact, he didn't even start singing until just this past year. He has exactly 3 songs in his repertoire: Happy Birthday, Old McDonald, and Baba Black Sheep. So no, we've seen no sign of Savant Syndrome.
I bring this up because the other day I heard the very best question about this subject. Bambam participates in an adaptive sports program called STAR Sports. I've written about the program several times. It is wonderful. It was developed by a college student (we'll call her A) and is run completely by A and a group of volunteer students. They are amazing. And Bambam loves it.
Bambam is extremely athletic, which is sort of amazing considering he didn't walk until he was almost 2. But now, at the age of 7, that child is really an amazing athlete. Any sport with a ball is second nature to him. I've actually seen him kick a football through a basketball hoop. More than once. On purpose. He can beat anyone at a game of horse on the basketball court. His first time on the golf course, at the age of 6, he drove the ball to the green on his first par 3 shot. Seriously, people stop to watch. So its no surprise that he sort of shines at STAR sports, which is focusing on soccer right now.
At the first fall session, A's parents had come from out of town to see the program she had developed. They sat next to me and they were so proud, as they should be. A is a wonderful, caring young lady. She is going to take the world by storm. I had a great conversation with her parents. And as I was talking to them, this took place:
A's parents: Is that your son out there in the green shirt?
Me: Yes, that's Bambam.
A's parents: How old is he?
Me: He's 7.
A's parents: Wow, he's big. I thought he was 10. And he's so athletic. His eye/hand coordination is incredible. Do you mind if I ask what his diagnosis is?
Me: Oh, no. He's autistic. And yes, he is big. And athletic.
A's parents: Is that his special skill, athletics?
And that's when I couldn't help laughing out loud. But I decided that I was going to just go with it. Why yes, his Savant Skill is athleticism. We've finally found it.
I love it. From now on when I get the "what's his thing" question, I'm going to answer athletics. Just go with it people.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
The Look
We were back at the fun house this past weekend. And it was First Friday. Which means that downtown is packed with a festive environment of sidewalk musicians, art, vendors, beer and wine tasting, and all the quaint stores are open late. It also means crowds and noise and chaos.
But, since Bambam has been doing so many great things lately, we thought we would try it. First up was pizza by the slice from the hole in the wall pizza joint that we like. Bambam loves their pizza and we usually get it when we go downtown. But its not usually this crowded. As soon as we entered, he stopped in his tracks and grew tense. He had told me right before entering that he needed to use the bathroom. So, even though he said immediately upon entering that he wanted to "go back outside" I made him go use the bathroom first. I barely had his shorts back up before he bolted out the bathroom door and made a beeline outside. No way was he staying or going back inside that crowded place.
On my way chasing him outside, I spotted a mom pushing a special stoller with a 7 or 8 year old girl in it. She caught my eye, she smiled at me as I chased Bambam out the door as he's yelling "go outside now, go outside NOW". And I knew, she knew. She was "our kind". With no words her look and smile encouraged me. She let me know that she understood, I was not alone. We were doing OK. A thousand words and thoughts were exchanged in that silence. And I smiled back hoping to convey to her what she had given me in that brief, silent exchange.
But, since Bambam has been doing so many great things lately, we thought we would try it. First up was pizza by the slice from the hole in the wall pizza joint that we like. Bambam loves their pizza and we usually get it when we go downtown. But its not usually this crowded. As soon as we entered, he stopped in his tracks and grew tense. He had told me right before entering that he needed to use the bathroom. So, even though he said immediately upon entering that he wanted to "go back outside" I made him go use the bathroom first. I barely had his shorts back up before he bolted out the bathroom door and made a beeline outside. No way was he staying or going back inside that crowded place.
On my way chasing him outside, I spotted a mom pushing a special stoller with a 7 or 8 year old girl in it. She caught my eye, she smiled at me as I chased Bambam out the door as he's yelling "go outside now, go outside NOW". And I knew, she knew. She was "our kind". With no words her look and smile encouraged me. She let me know that she understood, I was not alone. We were doing OK. A thousand words and thoughts were exchanged in that silence. And I smiled back hoping to convey to her what she had given me in that brief, silent exchange.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Presume Competence
We've adopted a new philosophy. Mr. Fixit and I decided in a fit of proactive parenting that we were going to presume competence from now on with Bambam. We have always been very cautious with him. Sheltering him. Understandably so. But time and time again, he shows us that he is capable and can do so much more than we expect. It may not be the way we assume it will go; it most often is in his own way, in his own time. But he is capable none the less.
By sheltering him I think we've been holding him back. Unintentionally. And really with his best interest at heart. We do not want him to get hurt, physically, emotionally, or mentally. I used to think it was hard to send Miracle Boy out into the world, but sending Bambam with his special needs adds a whole new level to hard. It is gut wrenching, anxiety producing terror. I loose sleep at night, I can't concentrate at work kind of anxiety.
But, in keeping with out new philosophy, we signed Bambam up for a few day camps this summer. The first one had a bit of a rocky start (see It was Good...Until it Wasn't) but really ended up being great. Bambam had a lot of fun and his aid was an amazing young college student. We were feeling confident. Presume Competence indeed!
Week 2 was a different camp. This one is run by the local university, on campus. It is a bigger camp. More kids, more leaders, more chaos. Again I talked to the director, we made a plan. We were ready to go. Until we got to check in on Monday morning.
They didn't have any of his information...not even his name. Not to mention the list of special needs and accommodations. Um what??? There were tons of kids, tons of leaders all mulling around. Someone takes us to another table where they look in a new place for his information. Nothing. All the while Bambam's grip on my hand is getting tighter and tighter, he is nudging closer and closer to me. Presume competence.
Finally we find someone who knows about him. She gets down on her knees and talks to Bambam: asks his name, where he goes to school, promises to get him a name tag by snack time. And she takes us to find his group. Bambam's grip is getting tighter yet. I wonder if any blood is reaching my fingers. Presume competence.
We find his group and I ask to talk to whomever is going to stay with him all morning. They stare at me blankly. Usually the kids are handed off from one activity to another (3 of them in the morning) each with different leaders. Not a formula that will work for Bambam, he needs some sort of consistency. Presuming competence is one thing, throwing all caution to the wind and providing him with no supports at all is unacceptable. I finally convinced one of the young leaders (Stormy or Sporty or something. At that point I was almost ready to flee with my child from this crazy place, I didn't really catch her camp name) to stay with him through all the activities. Bambam found a place for his backpack and reluctantly let go of my hand, following Sporty into the gym. Presume competence.
I fought tears on my way to work. I sent Mr. Fixit this text: I do not have high hopes for this. In fact, I'm very nervous leaving him there. Lots of kids and chaos. He was squeezing my hand really, really hard. To which he answered: I was awake all night worried about it. Presume competence.
An hour later I texted: Well he's been there an hour and I haven't received a phone call yet. That's good, right? To which he said: Unless they lost him. Presume competence.
A little later I texted: One hour to go. My stomach is in knots. To which he answered: I'm going 30 minutes early to find him. Presume Competence.
A text from Mr. Fixit: I'm at the pick up area, just waiting for him. 18 minutes before pickup time. My response: OK, let me know how it went as soon as you can. Presume competence.
Finally: He's fine. They said he did fine. Lots of watching, but he's happy. Presume Competence.
He did it! In his own way, watching; but he did it. He didn't get lost, there were no meltdowns, or tears, or accidents, or calls to mom. And as the week progresses and he gets more comfortable, there will be more participation and less watching. All in his own time. Presume competence.
Presuming competence may be good for Bambam, but it just might kill me. At the very least it will turn my hair completely grey and give me an ulcer. I know in my heart of hearts that in order for him to grow we must give him opportunities to learn, sometimes even nudge him along the the path to his full potential. But honestly, this is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Presume competence. It sounds great, has a nice ring to it. But I think there may be days when I hate those 2 words.
By sheltering him I think we've been holding him back. Unintentionally. And really with his best interest at heart. We do not want him to get hurt, physically, emotionally, or mentally. I used to think it was hard to send Miracle Boy out into the world, but sending Bambam with his special needs adds a whole new level to hard. It is gut wrenching, anxiety producing terror. I loose sleep at night, I can't concentrate at work kind of anxiety.
But, in keeping with out new philosophy, we signed Bambam up for a few day camps this summer. The first one had a bit of a rocky start (see It was Good...Until it Wasn't) but really ended up being great. Bambam had a lot of fun and his aid was an amazing young college student. We were feeling confident. Presume Competence indeed!
Week 2 was a different camp. This one is run by the local university, on campus. It is a bigger camp. More kids, more leaders, more chaos. Again I talked to the director, we made a plan. We were ready to go. Until we got to check in on Monday morning.
They didn't have any of his information...not even his name. Not to mention the list of special needs and accommodations. Um what??? There were tons of kids, tons of leaders all mulling around. Someone takes us to another table where they look in a new place for his information. Nothing. All the while Bambam's grip on my hand is getting tighter and tighter, he is nudging closer and closer to me. Presume competence.
Finally we find someone who knows about him. She gets down on her knees and talks to Bambam: asks his name, where he goes to school, promises to get him a name tag by snack time. And she takes us to find his group. Bambam's grip is getting tighter yet. I wonder if any blood is reaching my fingers. Presume competence.
We find his group and I ask to talk to whomever is going to stay with him all morning. They stare at me blankly. Usually the kids are handed off from one activity to another (3 of them in the morning) each with different leaders. Not a formula that will work for Bambam, he needs some sort of consistency. Presuming competence is one thing, throwing all caution to the wind and providing him with no supports at all is unacceptable. I finally convinced one of the young leaders (Stormy or Sporty or something. At that point I was almost ready to flee with my child from this crazy place, I didn't really catch her camp name) to stay with him through all the activities. Bambam found a place for his backpack and reluctantly let go of my hand, following Sporty into the gym. Presume competence.
I fought tears on my way to work. I sent Mr. Fixit this text: I do not have high hopes for this. In fact, I'm very nervous leaving him there. Lots of kids and chaos. He was squeezing my hand really, really hard. To which he answered: I was awake all night worried about it. Presume competence.
An hour later I texted: Well he's been there an hour and I haven't received a phone call yet. That's good, right? To which he said: Unless they lost him. Presume competence.
A little later I texted: One hour to go. My stomach is in knots. To which he answered: I'm going 30 minutes early to find him. Presume Competence.
A text from Mr. Fixit: I'm at the pick up area, just waiting for him. 18 minutes before pickup time. My response: OK, let me know how it went as soon as you can. Presume competence.
Finally: He's fine. They said he did fine. Lots of watching, but he's happy. Presume Competence.
He did it! In his own way, watching; but he did it. He didn't get lost, there were no meltdowns, or tears, or accidents, or calls to mom. And as the week progresses and he gets more comfortable, there will be more participation and less watching. All in his own time. Presume competence.
Presuming competence may be good for Bambam, but it just might kill me. At the very least it will turn my hair completely grey and give me an ulcer. I know in my heart of hearts that in order for him to grow we must give him opportunities to learn, sometimes even nudge him along the the path to his full potential. But honestly, this is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Presume competence. It sounds great, has a nice ring to it. But I think there may be days when I hate those 2 words.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Summer...Again
Summers are always hard with Bambam. Both Mr. Fixit and I work. Granted I only work part-time, but still need some sort of day care for about 25 hours a week. In the past we have muddled through with a hodge podge of grandparents, brother's help, and a very flexible work schedule for both myself and Mr. Fixit.
But this summer, that wasn't going to work. Both brothers got full time jobs. Yeah! But it cuts into our daycare availability. And my parents are getting older. My dad has Alzheimers and my mom really has her hands full caring for him. I can't really expect her to also take on a serverly autistic 7 year old for 25 hours a week. So I went looking.
Our City Parks and Rec answered the call admirable. I talked with the director who insisted they could accomodate all of Bambam's needs. So we met to hash out a plan. She agreed to all the adjustments I suggested to make Bambam's first day camp experience successful. We chose a camp that was less structured, lots of free play time. Set at a park, I would drop him off a little later and pick him up earlier in the afternoon so he wasn't there all day. He could bring his favorite comfort items from home. And at the very end she asks if it would be helpful for him to have his own aid. Seriously? Hell yes! The young man she was thinking of had past experience working with autistic children. She'd have him call me to talk about Bambam before camp started. I was amazed. Perhaps I'm naive, but I had no idea they would provide an aid for Bambam.
Sam did call me and we talked about Bambam. What works for him, what doesn't. What his favorite things are. How to calm him down if he gets upset. The best ways to encourage him to try something new. He asked great questions and was really interested in the answers. I have great hopes for Day Camp. I hope Bambam has as much fun as I remember having.
But this summer, that wasn't going to work. Both brothers got full time jobs. Yeah! But it cuts into our daycare availability. And my parents are getting older. My dad has Alzheimers and my mom really has her hands full caring for him. I can't really expect her to also take on a serverly autistic 7 year old for 25 hours a week. So I went looking.
Our City Parks and Rec answered the call admirable. I talked with the director who insisted they could accomodate all of Bambam's needs. So we met to hash out a plan. She agreed to all the adjustments I suggested to make Bambam's first day camp experience successful. We chose a camp that was less structured, lots of free play time. Set at a park, I would drop him off a little later and pick him up earlier in the afternoon so he wasn't there all day. He could bring his favorite comfort items from home. And at the very end she asks if it would be helpful for him to have his own aid. Seriously? Hell yes! The young man she was thinking of had past experience working with autistic children. She'd have him call me to talk about Bambam before camp started. I was amazed. Perhaps I'm naive, but I had no idea they would provide an aid for Bambam.
Sam did call me and we talked about Bambam. What works for him, what doesn't. What his favorite things are. How to calm him down if he gets upset. The best ways to encourage him to try something new. He asked great questions and was really interested in the answers. I have great hopes for Day Camp. I hope Bambam has as much fun as I remember having.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
30 Days of Autism
I'm often asked what its like to raise an autistic child. There is no quick way to answer that question. The answer I give probably depends on the day. Each day, week, month is different. I'm never sure what to expect. As a way to answer the question, I've decided to write something everyday for a month about what its like raising my autistic child. Autism Awareness month seemed like an appropriate month for this project. So, here goes...
April 1: No April fools day jokes, he doesn't understand them. Bambam is extremely literal and takes everything at face value. Jokes simply don't register. Just another day in our household.
April 2: Today is World Autism Awareness/Acceptance Day. So we changed the light bulbs in front of our house to blue ones to join the "Light it up Blue" for autism campaign. Bambam and I also made cookies with blue frosting to take to his teachers and aids at school. We are so very grateful for all of them.
April 3: Bambam's class had a field trip today. In order for Bambam to go on field trips with his class, I have to go with him. Since we never know how he will respond to a new situation, we always need to have a quick exit plan available. So, I follow the school bus in my car and if necessary, I leave with him when needed. Today was one of those days. He lasted all of about 2 minutes before the "school today, go to school, go see E, its E time, its Phil time...." started. He just couldn't get past the fact that Wednesday is a school day and he should be at school doing his work with Mrs. E and Phil. There is no distracting this kid when he gets stuck on an idea. So, we cut our losses and headed back to school. On the bright side, I only missed 2 hours of work instead of 4.
April 4: Today is STAR Sports day. Bambam participates in a recreational sports league for kids with developmental disabilities. He LOVES it. And the volunteers are amazing, all college kids. He gets to run around kicking balls, hitting balls, playing with other kids and volunteers while I get an hour to sit and watch and talk to other moms who speak my language. Its a win/win. One of the things I like about having a special needs child is the ability to see goodness in this world that I otherwise wouldn't see. These college kids really are awesome. Every day heroes is what we call them.
April 5: Some days 8:00 pm can't come fast enough. Some days its just really hard to listen to or talk about the same damn airplane for the 864th time that day. Some days I just have to say "I'm not talking about it anymore, I'm done." And then I hear a little voice saying "I'm not talking about the airplane, I'm not talking about the airplane." I love his tenacity. But really, that isn't much better. Can't we talk about something else, anything else? Please?
April 6: Med changes suck. We are trying a new dosage of one of Bambam's medications. And he's not responding well. He is uncomfortable in his own skin. That's the only way I can describe it. And its awful to watch. We are supposed to give it a week. We are on day 3. I'm not sure we will make it a week. So hard to watch my baby struggle. (we lasted 4 days, then went back to his old dosage)
April 7: Its raining today, so we're stuck inside...all day. Not a good combination for a child who needs to run and jump and play large. That is why we have a small trampoline in our living room, where the coffee table used to be. Yes, our front room advertises that we are a special needs household. And right now I'm watching Bambam jump from the trampoline into a bean bag chair a few feet away and yell "splash" when he lands. Over and over and over again.
April 8: More testing for Bambam's GI issues. For the past 3 days I've been scraping poo (yes I said poo) from his pull ups to place in small vials. 3 times a day for 3 days. (yes, he does poo that often) Then I overnight FedEx'ed the "package" to the lab. You really haven't lived until you've scraped poo from a pull up. Just a day in the life.
April 9: Bambam has sharing at school today. The topic is "what I did over spring break". So we took pictures of our activities at the Fun House and made a poster using the pictures and simple captions. We practiced over and over. I'm hoping he'll actually get up in front of his class and do it. I will never give up trying and presenting him with opportunities to grow.
April 10: An example of Bambam's struggles with language: Driving home we saw a teenager walking up the hill.
Bambam: What is that?
Me: What?
Bambam: That boy.
Me: Who is that. When its a person you say 'who is that'.
Bambam: I don't know.
Me: Can you say 'who is that?'
Bambam: I don't know!
Its funny and a little heartbreaking at the same time. I felt like I was in the Laurel and Hardy "Who's on First" skit. But he really doesn't understand. And never repeats what I'm trying to get him to say. It can be frustrating. Language is a puzzle for him.
April 11: Bambam wakes up happy every morning, eager to start the day. We are fortunate that we do not have the anger and aggression that can be common with autism. He's a happy, content child who seems to be unaware that he is "different". I pray everyday that this stays with him his whole life. Sometimes awareness can be devastating.
April 12: Today is Friday. The third day of no school this week, it was a short week for conferences. And Bambam is NOT happy about it. He loves school and thrives on consistency. We just recently got to where he understood that there was no school on the weekends, and accepted it. But non-school days during the week throw him into a tizzy. All day long I hear "I go school today?" I've probably answered that question 100 times today. Patience, patience, patience. And the ability to have the same conversation multiple times a day. That is what is needed to raise my autistic child.
April 13: We had Bambam's spring conference yesterday at school. Oh, where to begin. His conferences are nothing like what we were used to. Typical measures for a child his age just don't apply. He's behind academically, socially, emotionally, in every way. If it weren't for the great people and educators that surround him at school, these meetings would be so much harder. But we focus on his improvements, no matter how small. And they always celebrate Ryan for who he is, where he is, and what he has to offer.
April 14: The iPad. Thank God for the iPad. There are days when we use it as a crutch and let Bambam watch his favorite videos over and over. I know, its not the best thing for him. But some days, we all just need to step back, take a deep breath, and relax in front of a screen. I may not win parent of the year, but we will survive.
April 15: Tax day. Having a special needs child means an extra deduction on our state taxes. But don't get all jealous. It also means itemizing all the out of pocket medical costs to deduct on our federal taxes. It's thousands and thousands of dollars. Autism is expensive.
April 16: Today Bambam pulled out his loose tooth. It was bothering him that it was loose, that's not the way it is "supposed to be". He doesn't like things that are out of the ordinary, he wants them to always be the same. So no loose tooth, simply pull it out and be done with it. And when asked if he wanted to look at his new toothless smile in the mirror he responded "naw, wanna go pway outside."
April 17: According to Bambam's aid, he can read several sight words. Who knew?!?! That child does not voluntarily show you what he can do. EVER. We've always said that he knows and can do so much more than he lets on. And it makes things so hard. How do you know what to work on if you don't know what he can do?
April 18: Bambam had STAR Sports today. But there were double the kids as usual. It was very noisy and visually chaotic. And to make it even worse, his usual aid "Sam" was not there. Bambam really struggled. He is hypersensitive to noise and visual stimulation. He spent much of the hour throwing himself on the ground or running into the walls. This deep pressure impact helps to calm him. Its one of the ways he tries to self regulate (instead of using his words or other more accepted calming techniques), but it is painful to watch and scary for those who don't know and understand. Sigh.
April 19: We're off to the Fun House for the weekend. But we don't tell Bambam until about 10 minutes before we leave. He cannot handle anticipation; has virtually no self regulation. If he knows ahead of time, he will perseverate on going to the fun house all during school, getting nothing else done. "Go to Fun House now?" will be uttered by him every 30 seconds until we leave.
April 20: So thankful we have the Fun House. Bambam loves it. To him, it is an extension of home, he's been going there since he was 11 days old at least once a month. Without it, we would never have a vacation. He does not do well in new situations so hotels are out. Day trips to new places are also hard. When we attempted a trip to the aquarium last summer, he lasted 10 minutes. We haven't yet tried the zoo. But at the Fun House we go to the airport, the Lodge, the Village, the river, the pool, etc. And he loves it as he knows all these places and is comfortable.
April 21: Motor Planning is difficult for Bambam. At 7 years old, he still cannot peddle a bike. And I'm not talking about balance and riding without training wheels. I mean he cannot get his legs and feet to push the peddles around in a forward motion, one leg push down, one leg pull up. He sits on a tag along bike behind Mr. Fixit and just rests his feet on the peddles. Mr. Fixit pulls all 65 pounds of him and the tag along bike, pretty much dead weight. We work on this weekly. Bambam got a new bile for his birthday. He sits on it, pushes it around with his feet on the ground, but cannot peddle. I crouch over behind the bike with my hands on his feet on the peddles and maneuver his feet around. It is not easy, or fun. But my kid will eventually learn how to ride a bike, dammit.
April 22: It's Special Needs Ride Night! The local Sheriff's Mounted Posse hosts a ride for special needs kids twice a year. The kids get to ride the horses lead around the arena by the deputies. It's awesome. And they take a picture in front of a green screen and then insert different backgrounds. We have one showing a cattle roundup, and an old western town backdrop. It's very fun. It takes some time and initiative, but there are many opportunities for special needs kids if you go looking. They are different opportunities than "typical" kids have, but they make for great memories just the same.
April 23: OMG. After 7 years you'd think this would no longer surprise me. The BLOWOUT. Like many kids with autism, Bambam has major GI issues. As a toddler and preschooler, it was not unusual for him to wake up screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night several nights a week from "tummy trouble". Thankfully, those days are gone. But, he still struggles with his bowels. Meaning, he doesn't have control. He's either constipated or has diarrhea. Sometimes he will go several days without a BM and then have a major blow out. I've never seen anything like it before. There is poop everywhere. Down his legs, in his shoes, up his back to his shoulder blades (its even been in his hair), up his front to his belly button, squishing out everywhere. Its not uncommon to just throw away whatever he was wearing, I don't think I could get it clean. And then I dump him in the shower. As he gets older, it gets more disgusting. If we could only get the BM's under control....
April 24: The weather is getting nicer and we went to the park after school. Since I pick Bambam up an hour early from school everyday, the park was empty when we got there. And he had a great time flying his glider, swinging, playing on the equipment. But no sand. I don't let him play in the huge sandbox. I know, bad mom. But when I look at it all I see is a great big litter box for all the neighborhood cats. And he still mouths things, including his fingers. Ew, just can't do it. But he loves the park and has a great time. Until all the other kids arrive. Then my bubbly, laughing, playing child gets quiet and comes to sit next to me and watches the other kids playing tag together on the equipment. And it breaks my heart as I watch him watching the other kids longingly. And not know how to join in. And I ask him if he wants to play with the other kids. And he hesitates .... before he answers "no, go home now". And I want to cry.
April 25: We are having some drywall repaired on the ceiling in our family room. So everything had to be removed and put in other rooms. So our really big plant (tree?) that is usually in the corner of the family room is now against the stairs in the entry hall and everyone has to walk around its huge leaves in the hallway and on the stairs. And one really big, beautiful leaf was in Bambam's way coming down the stairs. So he pulled it off. Not out of anger or spite or being mischievous, just because it was in his way. He was so surprised that I was mad. If something is in your way, just get rid of it. Logical. But not necessarily the right thing to do. No grey in his world, just black and white.
April 26: One of Bambam's meds is a stimulant for his ADHD. It is considered a controlled substance. So, every 30 days I have to go by the doctor's office to pick up a script and take it to the pharmacy. Today was the day this month. Such a pain.
April 27: Bambam has terrible eczema on his feet. Its so bad that his feet and toes crack and peel and bleed and look like they are rotting and going to fall off. Its really disgusting. And I've tried everything. Every night after he is asleep, I creep back into his bedroom and slather his feet with special cream and then put on socks. It helps, but does not cure the problem. We are working with a new holistic doctor to see if we can't find the cause.
April 28: Bambam started Special Olympics golf today. He LOVES golf. Started hitting a golf ball when he was 3 years old. The summer he was 5 he broke the sliding glass door hitting a golf ball into it. From then on it has been wiffle balls only in the back yard. So we thought we'd try Special Olympics golf. He's the only kid. There is no one close to his age, they are all adults. But he does not care. He gets to hit golf balls. And hit he does. One after another. Until there are blisters on his hands. Until we tell him he has to stop.
April 29: Something triggered Bambam's anxiety tonight. I'm not even sure what. But at 7:00 he wanted to go to bed. Bed is his safe place, his comfort. When he is really anxious, when his "fight or flight" response has been triggered, he wants to go to bed. In the past I've not been able to calm him, he has not sought comfort from me or anyone else. He goes to bed with his heavy covers and grinds his teeth. But tonight, tonight my boy was laying in his bed and I was sitting beside him in the rocking chair and he held out his hand to me and said "hold hands". He reached out to me for comfort. My boy sought comfort from me for the first time. So I held his hand, and with my other hand I rubbed the back of his hand, his arm, his back. I tried to impart some of my strength into him, rub out some of his stress and anxiety. And in time he fell into a peacefull sleep. My son reached out to me for comfort tonight. Little miracles are amazing.
April 30: This boy is amazing. He is joyful. He is funny. He is loving. He is affectionate. He is athletic. He is tall. He is gentle. He is sweet. He is strong. He is fast. He is pesisitant. He is tenacious. He is also autistic. But autism does not define him. It is just one part of him. One of many, many parts. He is beautiful.
Note: Being as technologically inept as I am, I thought this had published on April 30th. Oh well, better late then never. Happy Autism Awareness month, about 20 days late. :)
April 1: No April fools day jokes, he doesn't understand them. Bambam is extremely literal and takes everything at face value. Jokes simply don't register. Just another day in our household.
April 2: Today is World Autism Awareness/Acceptance Day. So we changed the light bulbs in front of our house to blue ones to join the "Light it up Blue" for autism campaign. Bambam and I also made cookies with blue frosting to take to his teachers and aids at school. We are so very grateful for all of them.
April 3: Bambam's class had a field trip today. In order for Bambam to go on field trips with his class, I have to go with him. Since we never know how he will respond to a new situation, we always need to have a quick exit plan available. So, I follow the school bus in my car and if necessary, I leave with him when needed. Today was one of those days. He lasted all of about 2 minutes before the "school today, go to school, go see E, its E time, its Phil time...." started. He just couldn't get past the fact that Wednesday is a school day and he should be at school doing his work with Mrs. E and Phil. There is no distracting this kid when he gets stuck on an idea. So, we cut our losses and headed back to school. On the bright side, I only missed 2 hours of work instead of 4.
April 4: Today is STAR Sports day. Bambam participates in a recreational sports league for kids with developmental disabilities. He LOVES it. And the volunteers are amazing, all college kids. He gets to run around kicking balls, hitting balls, playing with other kids and volunteers while I get an hour to sit and watch and talk to other moms who speak my language. Its a win/win. One of the things I like about having a special needs child is the ability to see goodness in this world that I otherwise wouldn't see. These college kids really are awesome. Every day heroes is what we call them.
April 5: Some days 8:00 pm can't come fast enough. Some days its just really hard to listen to or talk about the same damn airplane for the 864th time that day. Some days I just have to say "I'm not talking about it anymore, I'm done." And then I hear a little voice saying "I'm not talking about the airplane, I'm not talking about the airplane." I love his tenacity. But really, that isn't much better. Can't we talk about something else, anything else? Please?
April 6: Med changes suck. We are trying a new dosage of one of Bambam's medications. And he's not responding well. He is uncomfortable in his own skin. That's the only way I can describe it. And its awful to watch. We are supposed to give it a week. We are on day 3. I'm not sure we will make it a week. So hard to watch my baby struggle. (we lasted 4 days, then went back to his old dosage)
April 7: Its raining today, so we're stuck inside...all day. Not a good combination for a child who needs to run and jump and play large. That is why we have a small trampoline in our living room, where the coffee table used to be. Yes, our front room advertises that we are a special needs household. And right now I'm watching Bambam jump from the trampoline into a bean bag chair a few feet away and yell "splash" when he lands. Over and over and over again.
April 8: More testing for Bambam's GI issues. For the past 3 days I've been scraping poo (yes I said poo) from his pull ups to place in small vials. 3 times a day for 3 days. (yes, he does poo that often) Then I overnight FedEx'ed the "package" to the lab. You really haven't lived until you've scraped poo from a pull up. Just a day in the life.
April 9: Bambam has sharing at school today. The topic is "what I did over spring break". So we took pictures of our activities at the Fun House and made a poster using the pictures and simple captions. We practiced over and over. I'm hoping he'll actually get up in front of his class and do it. I will never give up trying and presenting him with opportunities to grow.
April 10: An example of Bambam's struggles with language: Driving home we saw a teenager walking up the hill.
Bambam: What is that?
Me: What?
Bambam: That boy.
Me: Who is that. When its a person you say 'who is that'.
Bambam: I don't know.
Me: Can you say 'who is that?'
Bambam: I don't know!
Its funny and a little heartbreaking at the same time. I felt like I was in the Laurel and Hardy "Who's on First" skit. But he really doesn't understand. And never repeats what I'm trying to get him to say. It can be frustrating. Language is a puzzle for him.
April 11: Bambam wakes up happy every morning, eager to start the day. We are fortunate that we do not have the anger and aggression that can be common with autism. He's a happy, content child who seems to be unaware that he is "different". I pray everyday that this stays with him his whole life. Sometimes awareness can be devastating.
April 12: Today is Friday. The third day of no school this week, it was a short week for conferences. And Bambam is NOT happy about it. He loves school and thrives on consistency. We just recently got to where he understood that there was no school on the weekends, and accepted it. But non-school days during the week throw him into a tizzy. All day long I hear "I go school today?" I've probably answered that question 100 times today. Patience, patience, patience. And the ability to have the same conversation multiple times a day. That is what is needed to raise my autistic child.
April 13: We had Bambam's spring conference yesterday at school. Oh, where to begin. His conferences are nothing like what we were used to. Typical measures for a child his age just don't apply. He's behind academically, socially, emotionally, in every way. If it weren't for the great people and educators that surround him at school, these meetings would be so much harder. But we focus on his improvements, no matter how small. And they always celebrate Ryan for who he is, where he is, and what he has to offer.
April 14: The iPad. Thank God for the iPad. There are days when we use it as a crutch and let Bambam watch his favorite videos over and over. I know, its not the best thing for him. But some days, we all just need to step back, take a deep breath, and relax in front of a screen. I may not win parent of the year, but we will survive.
April 15: Tax day. Having a special needs child means an extra deduction on our state taxes. But don't get all jealous. It also means itemizing all the out of pocket medical costs to deduct on our federal taxes. It's thousands and thousands of dollars. Autism is expensive.
April 16: Today Bambam pulled out his loose tooth. It was bothering him that it was loose, that's not the way it is "supposed to be". He doesn't like things that are out of the ordinary, he wants them to always be the same. So no loose tooth, simply pull it out and be done with it. And when asked if he wanted to look at his new toothless smile in the mirror he responded "naw, wanna go pway outside."
April 17: According to Bambam's aid, he can read several sight words. Who knew?!?! That child does not voluntarily show you what he can do. EVER. We've always said that he knows and can do so much more than he lets on. And it makes things so hard. How do you know what to work on if you don't know what he can do?
April 18: Bambam had STAR Sports today. But there were double the kids as usual. It was very noisy and visually chaotic. And to make it even worse, his usual aid "Sam" was not there. Bambam really struggled. He is hypersensitive to noise and visual stimulation. He spent much of the hour throwing himself on the ground or running into the walls. This deep pressure impact helps to calm him. Its one of the ways he tries to self regulate (instead of using his words or other more accepted calming techniques), but it is painful to watch and scary for those who don't know and understand. Sigh.
April 19: We're off to the Fun House for the weekend. But we don't tell Bambam until about 10 minutes before we leave. He cannot handle anticipation; has virtually no self regulation. If he knows ahead of time, he will perseverate on going to the fun house all during school, getting nothing else done. "Go to Fun House now?" will be uttered by him every 30 seconds until we leave.
April 20: So thankful we have the Fun House. Bambam loves it. To him, it is an extension of home, he's been going there since he was 11 days old at least once a month. Without it, we would never have a vacation. He does not do well in new situations so hotels are out. Day trips to new places are also hard. When we attempted a trip to the aquarium last summer, he lasted 10 minutes. We haven't yet tried the zoo. But at the Fun House we go to the airport, the Lodge, the Village, the river, the pool, etc. And he loves it as he knows all these places and is comfortable.
April 21: Motor Planning is difficult for Bambam. At 7 years old, he still cannot peddle a bike. And I'm not talking about balance and riding without training wheels. I mean he cannot get his legs and feet to push the peddles around in a forward motion, one leg push down, one leg pull up. He sits on a tag along bike behind Mr. Fixit and just rests his feet on the peddles. Mr. Fixit pulls all 65 pounds of him and the tag along bike, pretty much dead weight. We work on this weekly. Bambam got a new bile for his birthday. He sits on it, pushes it around with his feet on the ground, but cannot peddle. I crouch over behind the bike with my hands on his feet on the peddles and maneuver his feet around. It is not easy, or fun. But my kid will eventually learn how to ride a bike, dammit.
April 22: It's Special Needs Ride Night! The local Sheriff's Mounted Posse hosts a ride for special needs kids twice a year. The kids get to ride the horses lead around the arena by the deputies. It's awesome. And they take a picture in front of a green screen and then insert different backgrounds. We have one showing a cattle roundup, and an old western town backdrop. It's very fun. It takes some time and initiative, but there are many opportunities for special needs kids if you go looking. They are different opportunities than "typical" kids have, but they make for great memories just the same.
April 23: OMG. After 7 years you'd think this would no longer surprise me. The BLOWOUT. Like many kids with autism, Bambam has major GI issues. As a toddler and preschooler, it was not unusual for him to wake up screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night several nights a week from "tummy trouble". Thankfully, those days are gone. But, he still struggles with his bowels. Meaning, he doesn't have control. He's either constipated or has diarrhea. Sometimes he will go several days without a BM and then have a major blow out. I've never seen anything like it before. There is poop everywhere. Down his legs, in his shoes, up his back to his shoulder blades (its even been in his hair), up his front to his belly button, squishing out everywhere. Its not uncommon to just throw away whatever he was wearing, I don't think I could get it clean. And then I dump him in the shower. As he gets older, it gets more disgusting. If we could only get the BM's under control....
April 24: The weather is getting nicer and we went to the park after school. Since I pick Bambam up an hour early from school everyday, the park was empty when we got there. And he had a great time flying his glider, swinging, playing on the equipment. But no sand. I don't let him play in the huge sandbox. I know, bad mom. But when I look at it all I see is a great big litter box for all the neighborhood cats. And he still mouths things, including his fingers. Ew, just can't do it. But he loves the park and has a great time. Until all the other kids arrive. Then my bubbly, laughing, playing child gets quiet and comes to sit next to me and watches the other kids playing tag together on the equipment. And it breaks my heart as I watch him watching the other kids longingly. And not know how to join in. And I ask him if he wants to play with the other kids. And he hesitates .... before he answers "no, go home now". And I want to cry.
April 25: We are having some drywall repaired on the ceiling in our family room. So everything had to be removed and put in other rooms. So our really big plant (tree?) that is usually in the corner of the family room is now against the stairs in the entry hall and everyone has to walk around its huge leaves in the hallway and on the stairs. And one really big, beautiful leaf was in Bambam's way coming down the stairs. So he pulled it off. Not out of anger or spite or being mischievous, just because it was in his way. He was so surprised that I was mad. If something is in your way, just get rid of it. Logical. But not necessarily the right thing to do. No grey in his world, just black and white.
April 26: One of Bambam's meds is a stimulant for his ADHD. It is considered a controlled substance. So, every 30 days I have to go by the doctor's office to pick up a script and take it to the pharmacy. Today was the day this month. Such a pain.
April 27: Bambam has terrible eczema on his feet. Its so bad that his feet and toes crack and peel and bleed and look like they are rotting and going to fall off. Its really disgusting. And I've tried everything. Every night after he is asleep, I creep back into his bedroom and slather his feet with special cream and then put on socks. It helps, but does not cure the problem. We are working with a new holistic doctor to see if we can't find the cause.
April 28: Bambam started Special Olympics golf today. He LOVES golf. Started hitting a golf ball when he was 3 years old. The summer he was 5 he broke the sliding glass door hitting a golf ball into it. From then on it has been wiffle balls only in the back yard. So we thought we'd try Special Olympics golf. He's the only kid. There is no one close to his age, they are all adults. But he does not care. He gets to hit golf balls. And hit he does. One after another. Until there are blisters on his hands. Until we tell him he has to stop.
April 29: Something triggered Bambam's anxiety tonight. I'm not even sure what. But at 7:00 he wanted to go to bed. Bed is his safe place, his comfort. When he is really anxious, when his "fight or flight" response has been triggered, he wants to go to bed. In the past I've not been able to calm him, he has not sought comfort from me or anyone else. He goes to bed with his heavy covers and grinds his teeth. But tonight, tonight my boy was laying in his bed and I was sitting beside him in the rocking chair and he held out his hand to me and said "hold hands". He reached out to me for comfort. My boy sought comfort from me for the first time. So I held his hand, and with my other hand I rubbed the back of his hand, his arm, his back. I tried to impart some of my strength into him, rub out some of his stress and anxiety. And in time he fell into a peacefull sleep. My son reached out to me for comfort tonight. Little miracles are amazing.
April 30: This boy is amazing. He is joyful. He is funny. He is loving. He is affectionate. He is athletic. He is tall. He is gentle. He is sweet. He is strong. He is fast. He is pesisitant. He is tenacious. He is also autistic. But autism does not define him. It is just one part of him. One of many, many parts. He is beautiful.
Note: Being as technologically inept as I am, I thought this had published on April 30th. Oh well, better late then never. Happy Autism Awareness month, about 20 days late. :)
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Drained
Some days I just can't do it. I'm not sure why. Either I'm exhausted, or not feeling well, or stressed more than usual, or overwhelved, or simply drained, or...or...or. I'm not sure the reason matters, but somedays I just can't be the mom I should be. I want to lock myself in my bedroom and ignore the world outside. It doesn't happen very often. But once in a while I just need time to decompress, refuel, a mental health day off. Parenting a special needs child is demanding, a 24 7 job. And every once in a while I need a few hours off...or maybe a whole day.
When Miracle Boy was 6 months old, his dad left. There is a whole long story there, but it has nothing to do with this so we'll leave it in the past. For the next 7 years, I was a single parent. And there were times when that was really tough. But honestly, it was nothing compared to parenting a special needs child. I simply cannot imagine being a single parent of a special needs child. I'm so thankful for all the support I have.
Even with all the great support I have, there are some days I just can't do it. I can't repeat my part of the same script for the 82nd time that day, or watch the same airplane video over and over and over and over.... Or, change the pull ups on my 7 year old. Some days I just need a break.
And I try not to feel too guilty for it.
When Miracle Boy was 6 months old, his dad left. There is a whole long story there, but it has nothing to do with this so we'll leave it in the past. For the next 7 years, I was a single parent. And there were times when that was really tough. But honestly, it was nothing compared to parenting a special needs child. I simply cannot imagine being a single parent of a special needs child. I'm so thankful for all the support I have.
Even with all the great support I have, there are some days I just can't do it. I can't repeat my part of the same script for the 82nd time that day, or watch the same airplane video over and over and over and over.... Or, change the pull ups on my 7 year old. Some days I just need a break.
And I try not to feel too guilty for it.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Careful What You Wish For
When Bambam was 2.5 years old and not uttering a single work yet, I had but one single wish. If he could just talk. If he could just tell me what he needed, wanted, liked, hated, was scared of, etc our lives would be so much easier. The endless meltdowns would slow down, possibly end. It was to me the answer to everything.
With hours and hours of therapy and patience, he did eventually start speaking. And has not shut up since. I have never been around a child with such severe verbal diarrhea. That child is never quiet. He talks incessantly, and usually about one topic that he perseverates on day after day after day for weeks. The topic may change every few weeks, but after 3-4 weeks of hearing about the same biplane, or pizza delivery man, or bulldozer I'm about ready to use the pirate bullet on myself. How much is one parent expected to take?
Last weekend Miracle Boy was gone. And Bambam was obsessing over this fact. He is after all Miracle Boy's shadow. Sometimes I feel bad for that teenager as Bambam follows him all around the house. So starting at 6:30 Sunday morning Bambam started with "When brother home?" or "when brother time?" or "brother home 10 minutes?" or "brother home an hour?" or "brother home yet?" or ..... you get the idea. Every 5 minutes there was some version of this question. And he doesn't just ask the question, he has to poke you too, just to make sure he has your attention. Imagine: poke, poke, poke every 5 minutes. And he does not discriminate on where he pokes you, arm, leg, stomach, back, boob. Poke, poke poke, "brother home 10 minutes?" over and over and over again.
By 10:00 am I had locked my self in my bathroom. I know, mother of the year award. But seriously, if he poked me one more time I was going to loose it. Poke, poke, poke. If you don't think that is irritating, you are a saint.
I love that he can talk and tell us what he needs, when noises are too loud, that he likes the garbage truck, that the neighbor's dog is his friend. I love the things he says, he's funny without trying. Having him tell me that he had lunch with TJ and played with Ben at recess is beautiful to me. He's worked so long and hard so he can tell me. But silence, just a few minutes of silence, well they say its golden. I'm not sure, I don't think I've heard it in oh 4 years or so. Perhaps I should borrow his noise cancelling headphones.
With hours and hours of therapy and patience, he did eventually start speaking. And has not shut up since. I have never been around a child with such severe verbal diarrhea. That child is never quiet. He talks incessantly, and usually about one topic that he perseverates on day after day after day for weeks. The topic may change every few weeks, but after 3-4 weeks of hearing about the same biplane, or pizza delivery man, or bulldozer I'm about ready to use the pirate bullet on myself. How much is one parent expected to take?
Last weekend Miracle Boy was gone. And Bambam was obsessing over this fact. He is after all Miracle Boy's shadow. Sometimes I feel bad for that teenager as Bambam follows him all around the house. So starting at 6:30 Sunday morning Bambam started with "When brother home?" or "when brother time?" or "brother home 10 minutes?" or "brother home an hour?" or "brother home yet?" or ..... you get the idea. Every 5 minutes there was some version of this question. And he doesn't just ask the question, he has to poke you too, just to make sure he has your attention. Imagine: poke, poke, poke every 5 minutes. And he does not discriminate on where he pokes you, arm, leg, stomach, back, boob. Poke, poke poke, "brother home 10 minutes?" over and over and over again.
By 10:00 am I had locked my self in my bathroom. I know, mother of the year award. But seriously, if he poked me one more time I was going to loose it. Poke, poke, poke. If you don't think that is irritating, you are a saint.
I love that he can talk and tell us what he needs, when noises are too loud, that he likes the garbage truck, that the neighbor's dog is his friend. I love the things he says, he's funny without trying. Having him tell me that he had lunch with TJ and played with Ben at recess is beautiful to me. He's worked so long and hard so he can tell me. But silence, just a few minutes of silence, well they say its golden. I'm not sure, I don't think I've heard it in oh 4 years or so. Perhaps I should borrow his noise cancelling headphones.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
The Report Card
We recently received Bambam's first report card. To be fair, we did receive progress reports in preschool and kindergarten. But this was his first "real" report card from first grade. And WOW. Talk about depressing. The entire report card was filled with "n/a's". And I mean the entire thing, no other marks at all, just "n/a". Even though I know exactly where my child is developmentally, this still makes me take a step back, sit down, and breath deeply so I won't cry. I've said it before and I'll say it again: seeing in black and white exactly what my child cannot do is one of the worst things about being a special needs parent for me. I really don't need to be reminded, I live it every day.
This report card seems worthless to me. I'm not sure why the school even bothers to send it home, other than I'm sure it's required by some stupid administrative rule. And I'm sure his teacher likes filling it out about as much as I like receiving it. Who wants to focus on what a child cannot do?
Apparently not Bambam's teacher. Because in addition to the report card, the envelope held a letter written by her. The first sentence said: "Bambam has made steady progress since the beginning of the year." And then she listed items that he CAN do or where he has made significant progress. These are not things measured on the report card of a typical first grader. They included items such as
As for the report card, they can keep that. I'm keeping the letter.
This report card seems worthless to me. I'm not sure why the school even bothers to send it home, other than I'm sure it's required by some stupid administrative rule. And I'm sure his teacher likes filling it out about as much as I like receiving it. Who wants to focus on what a child cannot do?
Apparently not Bambam's teacher. Because in addition to the report card, the envelope held a letter written by her. The first sentence said: "Bambam has made steady progress since the beginning of the year." And then she listed items that he CAN do or where he has made significant progress. These are not things measured on the report card of a typical first grader. They included items such as
- Greeting peers by name and making appropriate eye contact
- Having short, appropriate give and take conversations with peers
- Reaching conclusions after hearing spoken information; expressing his conclusions
- Using a quiet voice when interacting with peers and adults
- Accepting of "now" and "later", will concentrate on work now for a reward later
- Able to spend up to 30 minutes in the classroom and remain calm with normal activity/noise level of peers
- Participating in PE and Art with his class
- Beginning to do academic activities in the classroom with an aid, or with a peer but no adult supervision (HUGE!)
As for the report card, they can keep that. I'm keeping the letter.
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