Still Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop!

It's like everything is skewed just slightly - but in a really good way.  My grandson was with me the afternoon/evening of the first day of school.  There was homework (this was not the good part).  It was an autobiographical letter to the teacher, minimum two paragraphs in length (definitely not the good part!).  There were deer-in-the-headlight eyes; there were tears; there was frustration.


I had to talk the boy through the entire thing.  I had to explain that lots of people (in fact, lots of people from this very household) have trouble with writing.  I even explained that there were lots of these people who had these troubles, but the people were just spread out, so it didn't always seem like there were lots of them, so it could feel like you were the only one.  We talked about what kinds of things he could talk about (the teacher had suggested the prior year's events as one of the sources of information - the boy, of course, interpreted this as the only source).  After we had talked about this, we talked about different ways of organizing the information.


Eventually, the boy was ready to compose.  We had a false first start, but after talking through it, we got to where he was really ready, and he talked, and I wrote.  It was not a literary masterpiece, but it was two paragraphs.  He was SO happy.  It was done.


But here's the amazing part: when I emailed the teacher, it was one of those emails that's part "he worked really hard," part "he has a tough time with stuff like this," part "let me introduce you to this aspect of the kid, since it's the beginning of the year and I don't know what info you have/whether you've seen the IEP/whether you've matched the IEP with the kid," etc.  Since I don't know the teacher and he doesn't know me, and on top of that, I'm the grandmother not the mother, there are a LOT of eggshells upon which to tread here.  The response was phenomenal!  He told me how proud the boy was when he handed in his work, and that he had already been in close contact with the autism support teacher and knew a lot about my guy!  He also thanked me for all the hard work I'd done with the boy (I don't think my efforts had ever been so acknowledged - ever!), and told me that this assignment was probably the hardest one of the whole year.


He then, wrote me the next day to tell me about the great job the boy had done on another writing assignment, in school!  Wow!  The boy had a really great teacher last year, and we didn't know how we'd adjust to someone new.  Well, this one doesn't seem to be taking a whole lot of adjusting!  Some teachers are just amazing!

Press "1" for ...

There is recording that is making the rounds, again, through emails and facebook postings, of what purports to be an actual answering machine message of a school in Australia (this is a new detail).  It prompts the caller through the numbers to punch if the caller wishes to "lie about the reason for the child's absence," "complain about homework," "demand a different teacher for the third time this year," "want us to raise your children," etc.  It's supposed to be hysterically funny, and given the number of times I've received this email, apparently many of my friends think it is.

I used to have a great sense of humor.  Some people think I still do.  I often think I still do.  But I don't find this particular "joke" funny ... at all.  I can understand when friends who don't have children think it's funny.  I sort-of understand it when friends with "perfect" children think it's funny.  I do not, will not, can NEVER understand how a mother who has fought, as I have fought, as so many of us have fought, desperately, frantically, for our children; with school personnel who either didn't care or didn't understand or didn't care to understand - how do these parents find this joke funny?  How do they think it's funny when we keep our children home because we cannot force our quivering, crying, anxious children to go to school on a day when they are SO stressed that they can't get out of bed?  How can they think it's funny, when we have spent hours trying to work with our children on homework that our children don't understand, can't complete, and haven't been properly prepared to handle?  What is really funny about having teachers who are so awful that it is preferable to disrupt a child's school year, pull the child away from friends and a routine that is SO important, and start all over again?  And where is the prompt for reporting a school that refuses to follow the law, follow an IEP, and provide a free appropriate education for a child?

What about providing a school environment where students feel safe, nurtured, cared for?  What about a school where the students don't feel like they can't handle being in school, and parents don't have to keep them out in order to preserve their mental health?  How about homework assignments that are reasonable - that are within the abilities of the students, and that are challenging without being overwhelming and disabling?  Wouldn't it be something, if the schools thought it was a good thing for teachers to be mentors and guides for students, instead of jailers and disciplinarians?  And imagine this ... what if the schools worked with families, instead of always assuming that families - from parents to kids - were the enemy.  Really, if everyone is the enemy, what exactly, do the teachers think their jobs are?

And then, they tell us, the parents, that we are supposed to trust them, and that we're a "team."  Right.

Happily, my son is not in a public school.  His homeroom teacher is a fierce advocate for "her" children.  I am SO grateful for her.  

Family Time

We spent a long weekend away, with the extended family.  It was nice to spend time with the family; it was funny to watch the ASD kids interacting with the typical kids ... or actually, for the most part, not interacting.  One cannot help but make some comparisons, but this time, it was not heart-wrenching.  Everyone was having a good time, there were no tantrums, and when someone needed quiet time, it was easy enough to withdraw to a more isolated space.


The six-year-old (NT) was spinning stories about having play-dates with alligators, in his house - laughing as he spoke.  It was infectious and funny ... and the ASD kids, while imaginative, would never have had that kind of imagination.  Conversation about how teachers are sometimes wonderful and sometimes seem not to know the child at all, thankfully cross all categories of kids.  The great teachers are golden; the bad ones, well ...


It's fun to watch the cousins, the older teenagers/young adults, starting to get to know each other as "real people."  Cousins who used to be "so far apart" in age are now becoming fairly contemporary.  They're finding their way, and making connections - some expected, some not.  Of course, the 16 year old Aspie, being the youngest of his generation (on both sides), has a bit of a harder time.  Having no real age peers, and little interest, he doesn't socialize much.  He spent a lot of time playing on a DS (hand-held video game), with the 8 year old (next generation down) who has PDD.  They are, in many ways, soul-mates.  They understand each other in ways that the other children do not understand them.  That, too, is fun to watch.  Sometimes I think that families with only one ASD child are really missing out, much the way that families with only one child are.  Children speak a "language" that adults have forgotten; ASD children speak a slightly different language, and they understand each other far better than they understand NT children, or than NT children generally understand them.


The older generation, the grandparents/great-grandparents, seemed not to notice the incredibly strange behavior that was sometimes in evidence.  That was all for the good - it meant that there was no need for explanations or apologies.  The next generation, my generation, was able to laugh at how oblivious they were - they, the schools (when it suited them), and anyone who liked to pretend that this was all in our heads ... and just then I was "sniffed" by way of greeting!  


Sometimes, even though family time can be stressful, it has its moments!