The Boy is reading.
READING
A BOOK
My boy is READING A BOOK!
WOW! I didn't know if I'd ever type that sentence. And it is amazing, awesome, wonderful, any and all of those adjectives. I am truly astounded. And honestly, a little bit relieved. I have been telling anyone who would listen for the past 2 years that my boy would learn to read. I didn't care it if took until he was 10 or 20 or 30, my boy would read. I knew he was capable, we just had to figure out how to teach him.
A year ago he was no where near ready for this. Oh, we tried. How we tried. We worked on phonics for 2 years. But he just never got it. Phonics was not working for him. At all. He knew the sounds of the letters, he just couldn't translate that into sounding out words. It was frustrating. Very frustrating. For everyone involved.
With the switch to the new school, we switched to a sight reading program. After all, The Boy has a memory like a steel trap. He forgets nothing. (It often comes back to haunt me.) So the new school thought we should capitalize on that to start him on the path to reading. So we put it in his IEP in October; he would start the Edmark Reading Program with the goal of learning 10 sight words this school year. I know, that's not a lofty goal. But with a 9 year old that was not reading at all, we wanted an attainable goal. Rather have a realistic goal that he shatters than a lofty goal he cannot reach. It did not mean that they would stop teaching new words once he reached 10.
And stop they did not. He has now surpassed his goal of 10 words, knowing about twice that many. And the first semester has just ended, we still have half the school year to go! He's leaning 2 new words a week. Small books from the program come home for him to read at night. My boy is reading books to me. This. is. HUGE.
I can honestly tell you that it does not matter if they are 4 years old or 9 years old, the first time your child reads a book to you the joy, pride, excitement, and just plain awesomeness you will feel is the same. It really does not matter how old they are.
A very wise therapist once told me that there are no expiration dates on developmental milestones. None indeed. The Boy has never met a milestone "on time". Not one. Yet he continues to meet them, even master some; all in his own time, in his own way. And we have learned to not only accept his journey, but to respect it. It is an amazing journey to watch.
That kid inspires me. It is never too late.
My Side of Typical
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
Friday, February 20, 2015
Thursday, October 2, 2014
An Open Letter to Our Amazing Neighborhood School
To our amazing neighborhood school family:
After much discussion and deliberation, we have made the very difficult decision to move Bambam to another school with a dedicated special education classroom. As most of you know, Bambam has varied and complicated special needs. We have high hopes that his many needs will be sucsessfully met in his new school. But that didn't make this decision an easy one.
This decision was difficult for many reasons; not the least of which was the thought of leaving this amazing school. You have been his school family for 3 years. During that time he has been accepted, included, respected, and loved by teachers, administrators, support staff, students and parents alike. I cannot imagine a more positive, inclusive environment in any school anywhere.
The student population has been wonderful. Bambam has not been simply tolerated; after all, who really has a goal of being tolerated? He was accepted. His classmates included him when they could, helped him when he needed it, celebrated his accomplishments, watched out for him, and most importantly became his friends. Bambam talks about each and every one of them all the time.
Some students have been in class with Bambam for 3 years, some for 2, some for 1. Some just passed him in the hallway or saw him in the cafeteria or on the playground. It didn't seem to matter. It appears they all know who he is. When we are in town or at the pool inevitably a child will come up and talk to Bambam. I sometimes do not know or recognize them. But they quickly tell me they go to school with him. Kids from kindergarten to 5th grade, they all seem genuinely happy to see him. The world could learn a few things from our little neighborhood school.
And so it is with a heavy heart that we are now closing this chapter and starting a new one. Please know that we could never thank you enough for all each of you have done for Bambam. I only hope that you too have gained something from the experience of knowing our sweet boy.
And, instead of saying goodbye, we will say that we hope to see you around town.
After much discussion and deliberation, we have made the very difficult decision to move Bambam to another school with a dedicated special education classroom. As most of you know, Bambam has varied and complicated special needs. We have high hopes that his many needs will be sucsessfully met in his new school. But that didn't make this decision an easy one.
This decision was difficult for many reasons; not the least of which was the thought of leaving this amazing school. You have been his school family for 3 years. During that time he has been accepted, included, respected, and loved by teachers, administrators, support staff, students and parents alike. I cannot imagine a more positive, inclusive environment in any school anywhere.
The student population has been wonderful. Bambam has not been simply tolerated; after all, who really has a goal of being tolerated? He was accepted. His classmates included him when they could, helped him when he needed it, celebrated his accomplishments, watched out for him, and most importantly became his friends. Bambam talks about each and every one of them all the time.
Some students have been in class with Bambam for 3 years, some for 2, some for 1. Some just passed him in the hallway or saw him in the cafeteria or on the playground. It didn't seem to matter. It appears they all know who he is. When we are in town or at the pool inevitably a child will come up and talk to Bambam. I sometimes do not know or recognize them. But they quickly tell me they go to school with him. Kids from kindergarten to 5th grade, they all seem genuinely happy to see him. The world could learn a few things from our little neighborhood school.
And so it is with a heavy heart that we are now closing this chapter and starting a new one. Please know that we could never thank you enough for all each of you have done for Bambam. I only hope that you too have gained something from the experience of knowing our sweet boy.
And, instead of saying goodbye, we will say that we hope to see you around town.
Monday, March 17, 2014
Placement
Its that time of year. We are starting the discussions of Bambam's placement next year. Mr. Fixit and I actually started the discussion this year. We've begun to wonder if Bambam's current placement is the best environment for him to learn and grow. We've been discussing it at home for months. And have now started discussing it with Bambam's educational team.
We love our neighborhood school. And they have been wonderful to Bambam. All of them. The teachers, his aids, the kids, the office staff, the librarian, even the janitor. Every single person there. He couldn't be in a place where he is more accepted, included, loved and even celebrated. Except maybe at home.
But here's the thing. He's now 8, finishing up 2nd grade. Well, his version anyway. And, he's yards behind. He is learning; always plugging ahead in his own way, in his own time. But so are all the other kids. And it's obvious he isn't going to catch up any time soon. Maybe never. His is a different path. And that's OK. We need to respect that, embrace it even.
3rd grade is a pretty big jump. All of a sudden the kids are in a more academic environment with far more self study. They need to be self starters. Gone are the story times and longer recesses. Gone are the classroom buddies from the older classes helping them with projects. Now they are the older class with kindergarten buddies to help. And honestly, Bambam is just not ready for that. Any of it.
While his classmates are reading small chapter books, he is learning to read sight words and short sentences. His classmates are learning multiplication tables and he's still correspondence counting to 10 and sorting like objects. They are writing in daily journals and he's learning to write his name. Self starter is not a word I would use to describe his learning style. Unless it involves a ball or an animal, his attention span is about 11 minutes. None of this lends itself very successfully to 3rd grade in a typical classroom. We've decided its time to look at all of our options.
We could continue on our current path. Assign him to a home classroom with a 1:1. Continue with the individualized education plan that includes his own academic goals, along with social, adaptive, speech, OT, and PT goals. But here is what happens. He gets overwhelmed with sensory input in the classroom. So he and his aid have a cubicle in the LRC where he spends 75-80% of his day doing 1:1 work with her. Isolated from all the other kids. Isolated from everyone. And I'm not sure this is what's best for him. It is the best the school could provide under the current conditions, and we are ever so thankful for that. But is it what is best for Bambam? I'm not so sure.
I've been watching Bambam at school, paying close attention to his non-verbal queues. And its very clear to me that he is starting to see the differences between his classmates and himself. Until now, he appeared to not notice. Whether this is true or not, I don't know. But now, I see hints of him seeing it, becoming aware of it. He wants to do what his classmates are doing, but he can't. He notices when someone is watching or staring at him. He may not totally understand all of the reasons why, but he's noticing that it is different. And in some ways it breaks my heart. Ignorance can be bliss.
But if he's noticing, I think it is critical that he know there are other kids like him. He needs to find "his people". He needs "neurological peers". He also need "neuro-typical peers". I think both are critical to his growth and well being. He needs to know he is not alone, but he also needs to learn how to function in a world full of "neuro-typical people". Because that is what we have. The truth is, he will always have to interact with NT people. Hopefully he will also be around those similar to him, others on the spectrum.
And so, we are going to visit the self contained classroom in our district. This has been a major evolution for me. In the past I was adamantly opposed to placing him in the self contained classroom. And now I'm asking to see it. Our growth as humans never ends, but that is a thought for another day.
Tomorrow morning at 9:00 am, I will be sitting in the back of the self contained K-3 classroom located in another school. I'm both curious and terrified. I do not know what I will find there. I'm hoping to find children with varying differences but still similar to Bambam. I'm hoping to find a teacher and a whole slew of aids who are knowledgeable, patient, understanding, kind, encouraging, and loving. I'm hoping to find NT kids in the other classrooms that are accepting and inclusive but more importantly, kind and caring. I'm hoping to find administrators who "get it". I'm hoping.
But even if we find the most wonderful, best of all possible situations in that self contained classroom in the other school, we are still faced with a very difficult decision. Bambam loves his school. He loves his classmates. He talks about his friends constantly. He has play dates with them, goes to their birthday parties and they come to his. How can we pull him out of his current school where he's been in class with the these kids for 3 years? Kids who know him, understand him, know how to interact with him, include him, genuinely like him. And it is not just the kids in his class. It is the entire school. They are like part of our extended family. I wish the self contained classroom was in his current school.
These decisions are so hard. We so desperately want to make the right decision for our sweet boy. Sometimes I wish he came with an instruction guide.
We love our neighborhood school. And they have been wonderful to Bambam. All of them. The teachers, his aids, the kids, the office staff, the librarian, even the janitor. Every single person there. He couldn't be in a place where he is more accepted, included, loved and even celebrated. Except maybe at home.
But here's the thing. He's now 8, finishing up 2nd grade. Well, his version anyway. And, he's yards behind. He is learning; always plugging ahead in his own way, in his own time. But so are all the other kids. And it's obvious he isn't going to catch up any time soon. Maybe never. His is a different path. And that's OK. We need to respect that, embrace it even.
3rd grade is a pretty big jump. All of a sudden the kids are in a more academic environment with far more self study. They need to be self starters. Gone are the story times and longer recesses. Gone are the classroom buddies from the older classes helping them with projects. Now they are the older class with kindergarten buddies to help. And honestly, Bambam is just not ready for that. Any of it.
While his classmates are reading small chapter books, he is learning to read sight words and short sentences. His classmates are learning multiplication tables and he's still correspondence counting to 10 and sorting like objects. They are writing in daily journals and he's learning to write his name. Self starter is not a word I would use to describe his learning style. Unless it involves a ball or an animal, his attention span is about 11 minutes. None of this lends itself very successfully to 3rd grade in a typical classroom. We've decided its time to look at all of our options.
We could continue on our current path. Assign him to a home classroom with a 1:1. Continue with the individualized education plan that includes his own academic goals, along with social, adaptive, speech, OT, and PT goals. But here is what happens. He gets overwhelmed with sensory input in the classroom. So he and his aid have a cubicle in the LRC where he spends 75-80% of his day doing 1:1 work with her. Isolated from all the other kids. Isolated from everyone. And I'm not sure this is what's best for him. It is the best the school could provide under the current conditions, and we are ever so thankful for that. But is it what is best for Bambam? I'm not so sure.
I've been watching Bambam at school, paying close attention to his non-verbal queues. And its very clear to me that he is starting to see the differences between his classmates and himself. Until now, he appeared to not notice. Whether this is true or not, I don't know. But now, I see hints of him seeing it, becoming aware of it. He wants to do what his classmates are doing, but he can't. He notices when someone is watching or staring at him. He may not totally understand all of the reasons why, but he's noticing that it is different. And in some ways it breaks my heart. Ignorance can be bliss.
But if he's noticing, I think it is critical that he know there are other kids like him. He needs to find "his people". He needs "neurological peers". He also need "neuro-typical peers". I think both are critical to his growth and well being. He needs to know he is not alone, but he also needs to learn how to function in a world full of "neuro-typical people". Because that is what we have. The truth is, he will always have to interact with NT people. Hopefully he will also be around those similar to him, others on the spectrum.
And so, we are going to visit the self contained classroom in our district. This has been a major evolution for me. In the past I was adamantly opposed to placing him in the self contained classroom. And now I'm asking to see it. Our growth as humans never ends, but that is a thought for another day.
Tomorrow morning at 9:00 am, I will be sitting in the back of the self contained K-3 classroom located in another school. I'm both curious and terrified. I do not know what I will find there. I'm hoping to find children with varying differences but still similar to Bambam. I'm hoping to find a teacher and a whole slew of aids who are knowledgeable, patient, understanding, kind, encouraging, and loving. I'm hoping to find NT kids in the other classrooms that are accepting and inclusive but more importantly, kind and caring. I'm hoping to find administrators who "get it". I'm hoping.
But even if we find the most wonderful, best of all possible situations in that self contained classroom in the other school, we are still faced with a very difficult decision. Bambam loves his school. He loves his classmates. He talks about his friends constantly. He has play dates with them, goes to their birthday parties and they come to his. How can we pull him out of his current school where he's been in class with the these kids for 3 years? Kids who know him, understand him, know how to interact with him, include him, genuinely like him. And it is not just the kids in his class. It is the entire school. They are like part of our extended family. I wish the self contained classroom was in his current school.
These decisions are so hard. We so desperately want to make the right decision for our sweet boy. Sometimes I wish he came with an instruction guide.
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