I spent all day baking Chocolate Chip Walnut and Oatmeal White Chocolate Cranberry Nut cookies. And pumpkin bread. Oh yum. I make the best pumpkin bread ever. I mean that. Tomorrow I'm making Mint Cherry Shortbread Cookies that are dipped in white chocolate and so so good. And Coconut macaroons.
I made my grandma's Almond Rocca today too. It's my specialty. Adrienne wants orange peel candy, but I'm not sure I'll have the time or stamina to make it in time for Christmas. Kevin's birthday is tomorrow. We're going to dinner and to see the new National Treasure movie. We have one movie theater here, with one screen, and the movie sometimes doesn't change for two or three weeks. Lucky there's a good one for Kevin's birthday!
His folks are coming to town tomorrow and staying through the day after Christmas. They're taking the baby back to Vegas with them for a few days and Adrienne and Nick are going to visit their dad for their winter break.
That means I have ten days, no kids, no work. I'm going to miss them. I'm going to love being able to write with out anyone pulling on my sleeve. Ten days, ya'll. That's 240 hours.
Showing posts with label Nick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nick. Show all posts
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Monday, December 17, 2007
Socially Speaking (or, Don't Kiss Ruby)
I've been thinking a lot lately about Nick and his incredibly poor social skills.
Let me start with an example. Nick doesn't know when enough is enough until it's directly in his face, loud and clear. Say he wants Ruby to give him a hug. She does. But instead of going on about his business, he grabs her, tickles her, kisses her, hugs her again, until she's screaming for him to leave her alone. It's like he can't figure out social boundaries, and so he's always pushing against them. Luckily Ruby adores her big brother and doesn't hold it again him. Imagine the problems he had in middle school, when he'd offer a kid a high five and then tickled, noogied and generally harassed the poor kid until he was told to go away. The saddest part is he doesn't get it. He doesn't understand how people view him or how annoyed people get when their personal space is violated.
There has to be a way to teach him social skills. I'm taking this Positive Behavior Seminar. The main point of it is to teach teachers and parents how to change bad behaviors. I'm wondering if it couldn't be tweaked to fit social skills training as well. The main gist is to pick one problem behavior and replace it with a more acceptable (not necessarily perfect behavior.)
So let's take something simple.
The Problem: Nick doesn't listen to Ruby when she says "no" when he asks for a hug or kiss from her. His sustaining consequence is an interaction with his baby sister.
The Perfect Solution: Nick asks Ruby for a kiss, she says "no" and he says "okay" and walks away. His sustaining consequence would be that he was happy to respect Ruby's wishes.
The Acceptable Solution: Nick asks Ruby for a kiss, she says "no" and he pats her on the head instead and walks away. He will still get the sustaining consequence of an interaction with Ruby, while still respecting her right to not want to kiss him.
According to the PBS rules, I need to come up with a "million dollar reward" for Nick for the first few times he uses the acceptable behavior rather than the problem behavior. A reward that's so huge that he can't wait to try the new behavior again to see if he gets the same reward. This is where I run into trouble. For one thing, Nick is nearly impossible to reward (or punish for that matter.) I can't make a big deal about praising him, because it immediately sets off a rebound round of bad behavior. ("Yea, Nick! I'm so proud of you, you rock!" "Yeah right." Followed by a crash and something breaking.) Punishment is also a problem, because first he doesn't take it and then once he does, he forgets all about it and it doesn't have the desired effect. ("Nick, that's it you're off the computer for the rest of the day." Imagine kicking, screaming and a general tantrum for about ten minutes here, followed by Nick forgetting that the computer ever existed.)
He doesn't do well with rewards or punishments, I think because they upset his flow and make him have to struggle to get it back. He does, however, want to know that when he does what he's supposed to someone notices.
So I'm hoping that Nick is old enough and bright enough, that just learning to get along better will be reward enough. With some luck, just a nod or some small notice of his using the acceptable behavior will be enough.
Here are some future social skills that I hope this plan will work on:
Doing something nice for someone without saying "don't I get a thank you?" afterward.
Saying "I'm sorry" properly and with sincerity.
Having a conversation with someone where he looks them in the eye, has a give and take, and doesn't interrupt to talk about something else or ask if the conversation is over yet.
Keeping a comfortable amount of personal space around himself and other people (instead of leaning against someone he's sitting next to, sitting too close, standing too close, etc.)
Autistic people have to learn social skills by rote. Did you know that language is only 7% verbal? That means that 93% is reading tone, facial cues and body language. Autistic people can't do that, so they are only receiving 7 % of the message when someone is interacting with them. Nick can't read Ruby's irritation when he's trying to make her kiss him, until she makes it very verbal and loud. He can't tell when he is annoying someone, so he has to learn by rote which behaviors are annoying and how to avoid them.
Let me start with an example. Nick doesn't know when enough is enough until it's directly in his face, loud and clear. Say he wants Ruby to give him a hug. She does. But instead of going on about his business, he grabs her, tickles her, kisses her, hugs her again, until she's screaming for him to leave her alone. It's like he can't figure out social boundaries, and so he's always pushing against them. Luckily Ruby adores her big brother and doesn't hold it again him. Imagine the problems he had in middle school, when he'd offer a kid a high five and then tickled, noogied and generally harassed the poor kid until he was told to go away. The saddest part is he doesn't get it. He doesn't understand how people view him or how annoyed people get when their personal space is violated.
There has to be a way to teach him social skills. I'm taking this Positive Behavior Seminar. The main point of it is to teach teachers and parents how to change bad behaviors. I'm wondering if it couldn't be tweaked to fit social skills training as well. The main gist is to pick one problem behavior and replace it with a more acceptable (not necessarily perfect behavior.)
So let's take something simple.
The Problem: Nick doesn't listen to Ruby when she says "no" when he asks for a hug or kiss from her. His sustaining consequence is an interaction with his baby sister.
The Perfect Solution: Nick asks Ruby for a kiss, she says "no" and he says "okay" and walks away. His sustaining consequence would be that he was happy to respect Ruby's wishes.
The Acceptable Solution: Nick asks Ruby for a kiss, she says "no" and he pats her on the head instead and walks away. He will still get the sustaining consequence of an interaction with Ruby, while still respecting her right to not want to kiss him.
According to the PBS rules, I need to come up with a "million dollar reward" for Nick for the first few times he uses the acceptable behavior rather than the problem behavior. A reward that's so huge that he can't wait to try the new behavior again to see if he gets the same reward. This is where I run into trouble. For one thing, Nick is nearly impossible to reward (or punish for that matter.) I can't make a big deal about praising him, because it immediately sets off a rebound round of bad behavior. ("Yea, Nick! I'm so proud of you, you rock!" "Yeah right." Followed by a crash and something breaking.) Punishment is also a problem, because first he doesn't take it and then once he does, he forgets all about it and it doesn't have the desired effect. ("Nick, that's it you're off the computer for the rest of the day." Imagine kicking, screaming and a general tantrum for about ten minutes here, followed by Nick forgetting that the computer ever existed.)
He doesn't do well with rewards or punishments, I think because they upset his flow and make him have to struggle to get it back. He does, however, want to know that when he does what he's supposed to someone notices.
So I'm hoping that Nick is old enough and bright enough, that just learning to get along better will be reward enough. With some luck, just a nod or some small notice of his using the acceptable behavior will be enough.
Here are some future social skills that I hope this plan will work on:
Doing something nice for someone without saying "don't I get a thank you?" afterward.
Saying "I'm sorry" properly and with sincerity.
Having a conversation with someone where he looks them in the eye, has a give and take, and doesn't interrupt to talk about something else or ask if the conversation is over yet.
Keeping a comfortable amount of personal space around himself and other people (instead of leaning against someone he's sitting next to, sitting too close, standing too close, etc.)
Autistic people have to learn social skills by rote. Did you know that language is only 7% verbal? That means that 93% is reading tone, facial cues and body language. Autistic people can't do that, so they are only receiving 7 % of the message when someone is interacting with them. Nick can't read Ruby's irritation when he's trying to make her kiss him, until she makes it very verbal and loud. He can't tell when he is annoying someone, so he has to learn by rote which behaviors are annoying and how to avoid them.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
The Boy Makes Chili
Friday was my last day as a teacher's aide. I already have three substitute jobs lined up, all at the high school. Monday I'm going in for the band teacher. I know next to nothing about music, but it should be fun anyway. I'll spend three periods at the middle school and one at the high school.
Tomorrow afternoon I have an IEP meeting for Nick at the middle school. I'll be withdrawing him officially. I talked to the principal on Friday and told him that we were going to homeschool. He asked why, but couldn't really muster any argument. I would be shocked to find out that anyone at the school wasn't relieved to see Nick go. He made them work.
Nick made a meal tonight for us. Chicken chili. It was delicious. Here's his recipe (he adapted it from a recipe he got off www.allrecipes.com)
Nick's Chicken Chili
1 pound boneless skinless chicken, cut into bites
2 14 ounce cans white beans, drained
1 can corn, drained
1 can carrots, drained
1 can whole tomatoes with juice
1 onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
2 T oil
1 T chili powder
2 t oregano
1 t cocoa powder
1 t cumin
1 t paprika
2 t salt
pinch red pepper flakes
pinch black pepper
Heat the oil in a pan and saute the onion and garlic until soft. Put them into your crockpot. Put the chicken in the pan and cook almost through, until golden brown. Put into your crockpot. Add the beans, corn and carrots. Add the tomatoes and juice, cutting up the tomatoes some if desired. Mix in the spices. Cook on high for three or four hours.
Tomorrow afternoon I have an IEP meeting for Nick at the middle school. I'll be withdrawing him officially. I talked to the principal on Friday and told him that we were going to homeschool. He asked why, but couldn't really muster any argument. I would be shocked to find out that anyone at the school wasn't relieved to see Nick go. He made them work.
Nick made a meal tonight for us. Chicken chili. It was delicious. Here's his recipe (he adapted it from a recipe he got off www.allrecipes.com)
Nick's Chicken Chili
1 pound boneless skinless chicken, cut into bites
2 14 ounce cans white beans, drained
1 can corn, drained
1 can carrots, drained
1 can whole tomatoes with juice
1 onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
2 T oil
1 T chili powder
2 t oregano
1 t cocoa powder
1 t cumin
1 t paprika
2 t salt
pinch red pepper flakes
pinch black pepper
Heat the oil in a pan and saute the onion and garlic until soft. Put them into your crockpot. Put the chicken in the pan and cook almost through, until golden brown. Put into your crockpot. Add the beans, corn and carrots. Add the tomatoes and juice, cutting up the tomatoes some if desired. Mix in the spices. Cook on high for three or four hours.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Let Freedom Ring
Ruby is finally feeling better. She had a fever for three days, but it went away with antibiotics, so it wasn't mono like the doctor thought at first it might be. She's chipper and full of energy now.
Adrienne tired out for her school's production of a radio play of It's a Wonderful Life. So it's an anxious wait for morning to see if she'll get a part.
We went to Las Vegas over the weekend and I'm officially glad I don't live there anymore. It's smelly. It's dirty. There are too many people, too many cars. I hate Wal-Mart with a passion. I do miss Target, but you can't have it all, right?
And the big news. I'm going to start homeschooling Nick right away. Last night I enrolled him in Clonlara, which is a homeschool program that's very free and open to interpretation. Not free-free of course. Oh no. But considerably less than a private school. And worth it. Just to see his face when I told him he didn't have to go to school anymore was worth every penny and more. Today he stayed home sick from school and I told him he could do a trial run of homeschooling. Here's what he did today:
1. Watched one show on Discovery Channel closely enough to discuss it with me when I got home. (He watched myth busters and was able to tell me that the myth about people dying if they are completely covered with paint is a plausibility, not a proven fact.)
2. Went out and collected five very different rocks and made a list of their characteristics.
3. Gathered the items he needs to make a machine that will: push a toy car at least four inches, break an empty egg shell, pop a balloon and blow out a candle.
4. Brainstormed a name for his school and designed a logo. So far he's considering the following two names: The Congress Middle School and Nick's Ninja Academy.
5. Designed a menu for this weekend. Chicken chili, salad, crackers, hot chocolate and ice cream. Tomorrow he'll find recipes and start building a shopping list.
I already feel a thousand times more relaxed. I am done sending him to public school. I never have to deal with it ever, ever again. Never. Inside, I'm doing the Mexican hat dance. Inside I'm collapsing with relief. The struggle is over.
This is my last week as a teacher's aide. I have a bunch of sick leave that I'll lose if I don't use it, so I'm taking tomorrow off since all of my kids have been sick. It's a half-day at school and I'll be glad not to have to do the tutoring thing for hours after school. I'm incredibly excited about being a substitute. I'm going to work full-time until my next semester starts to pay off the Clonlara tuition. On Thursday I have to go and get registered into the sub system so that I can take jobs.
I think I'm going to dis-enroll Nick from school tomorrow. Let freedom ring.
Adrienne tired out for her school's production of a radio play of It's a Wonderful Life. So it's an anxious wait for morning to see if she'll get a part.
We went to Las Vegas over the weekend and I'm officially glad I don't live there anymore. It's smelly. It's dirty. There are too many people, too many cars. I hate Wal-Mart with a passion. I do miss Target, but you can't have it all, right?
And the big news. I'm going to start homeschooling Nick right away. Last night I enrolled him in Clonlara, which is a homeschool program that's very free and open to interpretation. Not free-free of course. Oh no. But considerably less than a private school. And worth it. Just to see his face when I told him he didn't have to go to school anymore was worth every penny and more. Today he stayed home sick from school and I told him he could do a trial run of homeschooling. Here's what he did today:
1. Watched one show on Discovery Channel closely enough to discuss it with me when I got home. (He watched myth busters and was able to tell me that the myth about people dying if they are completely covered with paint is a plausibility, not a proven fact.)
2. Went out and collected five very different rocks and made a list of their characteristics.
3. Gathered the items he needs to make a machine that will: push a toy car at least four inches, break an empty egg shell, pop a balloon and blow out a candle.
4. Brainstormed a name for his school and designed a logo. So far he's considering the following two names: The Congress Middle School and Nick's Ninja Academy.
5. Designed a menu for this weekend. Chicken chili, salad, crackers, hot chocolate and ice cream. Tomorrow he'll find recipes and start building a shopping list.
I already feel a thousand times more relaxed. I am done sending him to public school. I never have to deal with it ever, ever again. Never. Inside, I'm doing the Mexican hat dance. Inside I'm collapsing with relief. The struggle is over.
This is my last week as a teacher's aide. I have a bunch of sick leave that I'll lose if I don't use it, so I'm taking tomorrow off since all of my kids have been sick. It's a half-day at school and I'll be glad not to have to do the tutoring thing for hours after school. I'm incredibly excited about being a substitute. I'm going to work full-time until my next semester starts to pay off the Clonlara tuition. On Thursday I have to go and get registered into the sub system so that I can take jobs.
I think I'm going to dis-enroll Nick from school tomorrow. Let freedom ring.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
It's Midnight. I'm Taking Tomorrow Off.
I'm reading a book called A Different Kind of Teacher by John Taylor Gatto.
I'm basically a teacher at the high school. A teacher of one. I have to make lesson plans and design a curriculum for my student. I have to teach her every academic subject. We do not have a classroom teacher. They did promote one of the aides to be the teacher for the class, but she has only been at school two weeks this year due to surgery.
I've struggled to warm up to this new teacher. I realized today that a lot of that is jealousy. She gets to just be a teacher. I have to do four years of college first. She has a thirty-year-old degree in sociology. I have to choose education and study it. She isn't the low-man on the totem pole anymore. I am.
Working at the high school has been an eye-opening and exhausting experience. I have heard teachers say things about students that they should be ashamed of. I have had administration seemed shocked when I praised a student they consider a slaker. I have a student who is struggling to pass English because he can't connect with the Reader's Digest edition of Great Expectations, but he's reading a huge volume of Greek Mythology on his own time. English teachers have refused to try to help me get their students excited about writing short stories, because they don't believe their students are capable--because they aren't connecting with the Reader's Digest edition of Great Expectations.
Nick had a lunch detention on Tuesday. Because he had to pee. The kids have (I swear to you, this is what they're called) potty passes. They're supposed to carry them and give them to the teacher if they have to pee. That way the teacher doesn't have to write one out. (Or have a rubber chicken handy like my 12th grade English teacher did.) Nick never remembers to take his out of his homeroom class, which is his resource room. So he got to computer class on Monday and near the end he asked to go to the bathroom. The teacher said no, because Nick didn't have his pass.
Imagine, just for one minute, if you had to ask permission to pee. Imagine that you were told know, that you could hold it until your regular break time, now sit down and get back to work. How humiliating would that be? How demeaning? How quickly would you say, "screw you, I'll be right back?" What would you say to your spouse when you got home?
Nick left class, took a piss, came back and was ready to work. Instead of letting him, the teacher said he was going to write Nick up for insubordination. Nick got pissed off and when the bell rang thirty seconds later, pushed past another kid who was "lucky he didn't fall" (which means he didn't fall) on his way out the door. Hence the detention for "escalating violence."
Sigh. What am I supposed to do? Sit the kid down and give him a lecture about holding it if he has to go and doesn't have the prerequisite piece of paper in his pocket? Teach him how to take demeaning behavior from an adult with a smile, because he's 13? Tell him that those last ten minutes of computer class were more important than his bodily functions?
I think I'm going to home school Nick next year. I'm about 90 percent sure. I'm am so tired to trying to whittle my square-peg son to fit a round hole. I'm afraid of what I see already happening to him. He hides from learning, because his learning experiences hurt so much. He clearly isn't learning social skills in school. I'm afraid he won't ever be able to in a school setting. Three hundred kids and fifty adults is daunting for the most typical child, imagine dealing with that as an autistic kid.
He will never take someone else trying to set limitations on how often he's allowed to piss in 7 hours like a good boy.
I'm not sure I want him to.
I don't know what to do. Calling children our most precious resource sounds sort of silly. But think of it this way. I learned in my social work class that when my generation retires, there will only be 2.8 workers paying for our social security. Precious? Those kids turn into adults who will one day be running this country. We are already leaving them with an unmanageable mountain of debt and pollution. Can't we at least give them the creativity and initiative to figure out a way to fix those problems when they become theirs?
I don't want to be a smooth, oiled gear in the system churning out worker bees. I want to be a wrench in the machine. This is why I keep going back and forth between education and social work. I see so little of value in public education for so many kids.
It's funny, because I happened to give birth both to a kid who can only be dragged kicking and screaming through the school system, and one who thrives in that environment. Adrienne has somehow managed to find a way to bridge the gap between school and education (they are so not the same.) She's managed to hold on to her individuality, take everything she wants out of school and dump the rest. She's also an auditory learner. She learns best by listening to someone explain something to her and then doing it. She's naturally well-behaved.
I think I need to sleep. I almost feel high. Like I want to take on the world.
Yes. I really think I'm going to home school Nick next year. He deserves better than what he's getting. And not just because he's going to struggle hard with 80 minute classes.
I'm basically a teacher at the high school. A teacher of one. I have to make lesson plans and design a curriculum for my student. I have to teach her every academic subject. We do not have a classroom teacher. They did promote one of the aides to be the teacher for the class, but she has only been at school two weeks this year due to surgery.
I've struggled to warm up to this new teacher. I realized today that a lot of that is jealousy. She gets to just be a teacher. I have to do four years of college first. She has a thirty-year-old degree in sociology. I have to choose education and study it. She isn't the low-man on the totem pole anymore. I am.
Working at the high school has been an eye-opening and exhausting experience. I have heard teachers say things about students that they should be ashamed of. I have had administration seemed shocked when I praised a student they consider a slaker. I have a student who is struggling to pass English because he can't connect with the Reader's Digest edition of Great Expectations, but he's reading a huge volume of Greek Mythology on his own time. English teachers have refused to try to help me get their students excited about writing short stories, because they don't believe their students are capable--because they aren't connecting with the Reader's Digest edition of Great Expectations.
Nick had a lunch detention on Tuesday. Because he had to pee. The kids have (I swear to you, this is what they're called) potty passes. They're supposed to carry them and give them to the teacher if they have to pee. That way the teacher doesn't have to write one out. (Or have a rubber chicken handy like my 12th grade English teacher did.) Nick never remembers to take his out of his homeroom class, which is his resource room. So he got to computer class on Monday and near the end he asked to go to the bathroom. The teacher said no, because Nick didn't have his pass.
Imagine, just for one minute, if you had to ask permission to pee. Imagine that you were told know, that you could hold it until your regular break time, now sit down and get back to work. How humiliating would that be? How demeaning? How quickly would you say, "screw you, I'll be right back?" What would you say to your spouse when you got home?
Nick left class, took a piss, came back and was ready to work. Instead of letting him, the teacher said he was going to write Nick up for insubordination. Nick got pissed off and when the bell rang thirty seconds later, pushed past another kid who was "lucky he didn't fall" (which means he didn't fall) on his way out the door. Hence the detention for "escalating violence."
Sigh. What am I supposed to do? Sit the kid down and give him a lecture about holding it if he has to go and doesn't have the prerequisite piece of paper in his pocket? Teach him how to take demeaning behavior from an adult with a smile, because he's 13? Tell him that those last ten minutes of computer class were more important than his bodily functions?
I think I'm going to home school Nick next year. I'm about 90 percent sure. I'm am so tired to trying to whittle my square-peg son to fit a round hole. I'm afraid of what I see already happening to him. He hides from learning, because his learning experiences hurt so much. He clearly isn't learning social skills in school. I'm afraid he won't ever be able to in a school setting. Three hundred kids and fifty adults is daunting for the most typical child, imagine dealing with that as an autistic kid.
He will never take someone else trying to set limitations on how often he's allowed to piss in 7 hours like a good boy.
I'm not sure I want him to.
I don't know what to do. Calling children our most precious resource sounds sort of silly. But think of it this way. I learned in my social work class that when my generation retires, there will only be 2.8 workers paying for our social security. Precious? Those kids turn into adults who will one day be running this country. We are already leaving them with an unmanageable mountain of debt and pollution. Can't we at least give them the creativity and initiative to figure out a way to fix those problems when they become theirs?
I don't want to be a smooth, oiled gear in the system churning out worker bees. I want to be a wrench in the machine. This is why I keep going back and forth between education and social work. I see so little of value in public education for so many kids.
It's funny, because I happened to give birth both to a kid who can only be dragged kicking and screaming through the school system, and one who thrives in that environment. Adrienne has somehow managed to find a way to bridge the gap between school and education (they are so not the same.) She's managed to hold on to her individuality, take everything she wants out of school and dump the rest. She's also an auditory learner. She learns best by listening to someone explain something to her and then doing it. She's naturally well-behaved.
I think I need to sleep. I almost feel high. Like I want to take on the world.
Yes. I really think I'm going to home school Nick next year. He deserves better than what he's getting. And not just because he's going to struggle hard with 80 minute classes.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
All About Nick
I've had a few sort of epiphanies about Nick in the last couple of weeks. One is that, whatever his difficulties, he's basically a really good kid. The other day he was supposed to go to the after school program, but when he got there a kid who (for very very good reason) he doesn't trust was there, so he left. I got three immediate, frantic calls from three different people. The other teachers in my classroom were all "leave, you have to go find him!" I was utterly calm. I knew Nick wouldn't run off and wander the streets, and that Kevin would track him down in a few minutes. He'd either gone to his grandparents house, the library, or he was still at school somewhere. I was right, he was in the resource room hanging with his teacher.
It's so easy for me to blame myself and buy into the idea that he's the way he is because I've done something wrong as a parent. An almost unbearable amount of guilt goes along with being the parent of a difficult child. But I can trust him, and that's saying something. I've seen enough kids his age roaming the town, unsupervised and doing shit they know better than to do, to know that it's something to be proud of that Nick isn't one of them.
Something else I've realized is that I'm so concerned about what other people think about him, how they perceive him, that I'm forgetting to help him be just who he is. So he's not a typical kid. Who cares? And even if they do care, what good will it do? This is a hard one for me to face. It's hard to give up that wish that he were normal. Fact is, he's never going to blend. But with some help, he can learn how to be who he is and still live with the rest of us.
I'm about half done with a six-session, thirty-hour long ordeal called the Positive Behavior Seminar. I'm there officially as Nick's mom. I'm also there as a school district employee, and I'm really grateful for the opportunity. I'm gaining an exciting insight into human behavior.
I've actually managed myself very professionally through the first two sessions. At this third session I was an emotional train wreck. I broke down in hiccuping tears twice, and was generally irritated for a good portion of the afternoon.
I get to this place where every instinct I have as a mother tells me that the only way to protect my son is to stop sending him to school. Screw socialization. He's miserable. I'm sending him everyday into the trenches where he feels like he's at war. Why, oh why, is trying to force him into being able to socialize in a group of 300 snotty middle school nightmares so fucking important anyway? What if sending him there is actually impeding his socialization? What if it's making him worse?
That's the place I was in today.
After doing some data collecting I felt this "Ah-ha" moment that Oprah would have been proud of. For thirteen years I've been positive that what Nick is ultimately seeking with his behavior is attention. The data was perfectly, undeniably clear that I was wrong. That every teacher, every adult he's ever been in contact with, was wrong. Nick isn't seeking attention. He's seeking self-stimulation, and he's seeking to be left alone.
The woman running the seminar was talking to us (Team Nicholas!) about trying to figure out strategies for preempting the "staging events" (in Nick's case, transitions during class) that set off a particular behavior (grabbing his aide's arm when his aide tries to walk away from him.) The woman asked me why Nick was doing it and I said "because he's autistic." She said no. He's autistic, but ultimately he's trying to get something out of the behavior, autistic or not. He's trying to get his safety-net to stay near him.
I'm still struggling with this, because I keep thinking that I could go to a million seminars, a zillion doctors, and I just can't use some sort of strategy to wash the autism out of Nick. It doesn't work that way.
And then the woman said that all we're trying to do is help Nick get what he needs in a way that makes people want to give it to him.
Oh. Yeah. That makes so much sense. We aren't trying to get Nick not to need a safety-net person. We're trying to get him to ask for one in some way that doesn't involve grabbing at his safety net physically when he feels insecure.
Nick has never been in regular classrooms before. Not even in elementary school. He's never been expected to do the same work as his peers, to do homework, to be held to the same standard as everyone else. He's used to classrooms with less than ten kids, now he's in classrooms with 20 to 30. He's overwhelmed and literally latching on to his aide as a port in the storm. His aide is only five years older then him, young enough to relate to Nick on his level. He's a friend that Nick can trust won't be an enemy tomorrow. He's a friend who, because he's being paid, is always there. Having someone in authority stand up there and say that it was okay for him to need that was incredibly gratifying.
I still feel the fairly intense desire to just remove him from the incredible stress on our whole family of him going to school. I'm a little calmer about it right this minute. The program ends in January, about the time the semester at school ends. We'll see what happens then.
It's so easy for me to blame myself and buy into the idea that he's the way he is because I've done something wrong as a parent. An almost unbearable amount of guilt goes along with being the parent of a difficult child. But I can trust him, and that's saying something. I've seen enough kids his age roaming the town, unsupervised and doing shit they know better than to do, to know that it's something to be proud of that Nick isn't one of them.
Something else I've realized is that I'm so concerned about what other people think about him, how they perceive him, that I'm forgetting to help him be just who he is. So he's not a typical kid. Who cares? And even if they do care, what good will it do? This is a hard one for me to face. It's hard to give up that wish that he were normal. Fact is, he's never going to blend. But with some help, he can learn how to be who he is and still live with the rest of us.
I'm about half done with a six-session, thirty-hour long ordeal called the Positive Behavior Seminar. I'm there officially as Nick's mom. I'm also there as a school district employee, and I'm really grateful for the opportunity. I'm gaining an exciting insight into human behavior.
I've actually managed myself very professionally through the first two sessions. At this third session I was an emotional train wreck. I broke down in hiccuping tears twice, and was generally irritated for a good portion of the afternoon.
I get to this place where every instinct I have as a mother tells me that the only way to protect my son is to stop sending him to school. Screw socialization. He's miserable. I'm sending him everyday into the trenches where he feels like he's at war. Why, oh why, is trying to force him into being able to socialize in a group of 300 snotty middle school nightmares so fucking important anyway? What if sending him there is actually impeding his socialization? What if it's making him worse?
That's the place I was in today.
After doing some data collecting I felt this "Ah-ha" moment that Oprah would have been proud of. For thirteen years I've been positive that what Nick is ultimately seeking with his behavior is attention. The data was perfectly, undeniably clear that I was wrong. That every teacher, every adult he's ever been in contact with, was wrong. Nick isn't seeking attention. He's seeking self-stimulation, and he's seeking to be left alone.
The woman running the seminar was talking to us (Team Nicholas!) about trying to figure out strategies for preempting the "staging events" (in Nick's case, transitions during class) that set off a particular behavior (grabbing his aide's arm when his aide tries to walk away from him.) The woman asked me why Nick was doing it and I said "because he's autistic." She said no. He's autistic, but ultimately he's trying to get something out of the behavior, autistic or not. He's trying to get his safety-net to stay near him.
I'm still struggling with this, because I keep thinking that I could go to a million seminars, a zillion doctors, and I just can't use some sort of strategy to wash the autism out of Nick. It doesn't work that way.
And then the woman said that all we're trying to do is help Nick get what he needs in a way that makes people want to give it to him.
Oh. Yeah. That makes so much sense. We aren't trying to get Nick not to need a safety-net person. We're trying to get him to ask for one in some way that doesn't involve grabbing at his safety net physically when he feels insecure.
Nick has never been in regular classrooms before. Not even in elementary school. He's never been expected to do the same work as his peers, to do homework, to be held to the same standard as everyone else. He's used to classrooms with less than ten kids, now he's in classrooms with 20 to 30. He's overwhelmed and literally latching on to his aide as a port in the storm. His aide is only five years older then him, young enough to relate to Nick on his level. He's a friend that Nick can trust won't be an enemy tomorrow. He's a friend who, because he's being paid, is always there. Having someone in authority stand up there and say that it was okay for him to need that was incredibly gratifying.
I still feel the fairly intense desire to just remove him from the incredible stress on our whole family of him going to school. I'm a little calmer about it right this minute. The program ends in January, about the time the semester at school ends. We'll see what happens then.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
On Misbehaving
I used to say that when my kids had the day off of school for teacher in-service day that it was actually "teacher party day."
Yeah. Not so much.
I had to sit through a hideously boring, demeaning seven hour long in service today. In case you didn't know this, and if the subject ever comes up for you, grown people do not like when someone counts them down (four, three, two, one) to silence like a bunch of first graders. It's ridiculous. Also, don't talk in the same sing-songy voice you used when you used to teach second grade if you now teach teachers. Your regular grown-up voice is just fine, thanks.
I left the meeting irritated, which isn't probably a good thing. I also left with even less faith that I'll be able to send Nick to the high school next year then I had when I came in. Blank stares when I brought up the fact that my resource students have to stop working to perform janitorial duty every day just before lunch. Pats on the shoulder when I discussed how disappointed I was in losing my job because my student is moving. A complete lack of understanding about the fact that our class HAS NO TEACHER. And the woman they've hired to be the teacher? She DOESN'T HAVE A DEGREE IN EDUCATION. How is it possible that I'm the only one that's bothered by that???
Oh yeah. I'm the only one with a special needs child about to finish up the eighth grade.
See. I was perfectly fine this morning. Now I'm all riled up.
At lunch I saw a bookmark with the title of Laurel Thatcher Ulrich's book, Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History. Ulrich also wrote the book A Midewife's Tale, the diary of Martha Ballard (a colonial midwife), which I read for my history class. For some reason I connected with that bookmark, even though I haven't read the book. I haven't stood up for my students regarding their forced labor because I don't want the principal to think I'm a trouble maker. That I'm not well-behaved.
I don't want to be well-behaved. I want to be the woman who stands up for what is right. I want to be a boat-rocking trouble maker, damn it!
So, while I've been thinking about Ulrich's slogan (a sentence she wrote in graduate school in the 70s), I realized the irony between my newfound desire to misbehave and my intended job as a school teacher. I want to be the kind of teacher that encourages students to not take things lying down. I do NOT want to be the kind of teacher that says "four, three, two, one" and flashes the lights just when the conversation is getting good.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Casey Junior
One of Ely's MANY (tongue firmly in cheek) claims to fame is the Ghost Train. At the tail end of the summer we took the kids in the summer youth program I was the director of to ride the train and my kids got to come along (Adrienne and Nick were too old to join the program and Ruby was too young.)
The train is a really awesome part of living out here. Twice a day you can hear the whistles blowing and the train making it's way slowly (SLOWLY) down the track. The steam engine goes from Ely to Ruth and the diesel engine goes from Ely to McGill. We saw a little herd of Antelope in one the bottoms that you can't see from the highway, that was real cool.
Every Christmas the steam engine gets dressed up like the Polar Express. I can hardly wait!
The train is a really awesome part of living out here. Twice a day you can hear the whistles blowing and the train making it's way slowly (SLOWLY) down the track. The steam engine goes from Ely to Ruth and the diesel engine goes from Ely to McGill. We saw a little herd of Antelope in one the bottoms that you can't see from the highway, that was real cool.
Every Christmas the steam engine gets dressed up like the Polar Express. I can hardly wait!
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