We have a new entity trailing us. It is stuck to the sole of my relationship with my Jake, like gum that stretches against the surface. Bullying! It has so many connotations...again a spectrum behavior. It can be anything from a mumbled insult to a physical onslaught. I had seen this spectrum like animal softly paw it's way in to my Jake's world; I was waiting to decide if it was something that warranted reaction on my part.
After today, obviously the answer is a resounding "yes." Jake has been the butt of this soft, cowardly excess of childhood the last month now. He (I call him Slither) has been subtle...dare I say it, even clever. He is an excellent reader of Jake's behaviors and language. He can pin point a button to push, a switch to flick, a moment to be exploited. He slither's back into his cowardice and delights in Jake's explosive belief in social justice, which is one of Jake's best qualities as well as his biggest challenge.
To think that this Slither is taking advantage of my darling's biggest asset and weakness and relishing in the outcome...well, you can imagine. Today Slither was lucky Jake has a Behavior Implementation Plan (BIP), it is something Jake values above all else at school. Otherwise that child would have had his arse handed to him in a sling. I would be disingenuous if I didn't admit, I would take a school suspension over my boy defending himself and his self worth.
The issue with many, if not most Aspies is, they have a black and white view of Neurotypical behavior. There are no nuances, no subtleties, just a yes and no response. Subtleties are not absorbed, they have to be taught, retaught, reintroduced and reminded. Slither was lucky today. Jake used his learned behaviors and refrained. He did however come home raging and told me all (I speak fluent Aspie); two emails later and Jake knowing his Mum is on his side, he calmed down.
Slither better watch his back, he now has two sets on eyes on him, Jake's and Momma Bear. She makes Bipolar Bear look like a cuddly toy poodle.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Twas the Night Before the IEP
What's an IEP I hear? In three complicated education jargon words, Individualized Education Program. It's a legal promise to meet the student where they are and to help scaffold them to the best of their academic ability and potential. Again I pay homage to IDEA (Individuals with Disabilities in Education Act) and it's founding Father ADA (Americans with Disability Act). These laws are why I am still in the US.
I have Jake's IEP tomorrow. We have our annual team meeting and it always creeps up on me. The "Team" consists of his regular ed teachers, his collaborative teachers, his special ed teacher, his special ed facilitator, Doctor Seuss, Thing One and Thing Two and the cast of Growing pains (circa ages ago).
In terms of IEP's, I've had had uneventful ones, combative ones, pissy ones and on occasion sobbing on the floor ones. I can guarantee tomorrow's will be neither uneventful and yes, I'm fairly sure I will be crying by noon. If you've been following along Jake is having a challenging academic year. Tomorrow I will have to sign off on taking the two steps back after the three steps forward. Regular education still eludes my darling boy. He's bright enough, IQ in the 120's, crafty, witty and flat out silly and funny. Hell knows, he tried; he worked his butt off trying to prove he could be the best student, peer, son, brother and preteen smelly yoke (showers are again optional). Still, Bipolar Bear is yawning in it's cave, refusing to bed down and Jake needs some containing and to be held, emotionally and mentally. So back to self contained we go for most (not all) of his academics. I am so proud of my boy, he did the best he could. Now it's time for him to be the best he can.
I have Jake's IEP tomorrow. We have our annual team meeting and it always creeps up on me. The "Team" consists of his regular ed teachers, his collaborative teachers, his special ed teacher, his special ed facilitator, Doctor Seuss, Thing One and Thing Two and the cast of Growing pains (circa ages ago).
In terms of IEP's, I've had had uneventful ones, combative ones, pissy ones and on occasion sobbing on the floor ones. I can guarantee tomorrow's will be neither uneventful and yes, I'm fairly sure I will be crying by noon. If you've been following along Jake is having a challenging academic year. Tomorrow I will have to sign off on taking the two steps back after the three steps forward. Regular education still eludes my darling boy. He's bright enough, IQ in the 120's, crafty, witty and flat out silly and funny. Hell knows, he tried; he worked his butt off trying to prove he could be the best student, peer, son, brother and preteen smelly yoke (showers are again optional). Still, Bipolar Bear is yawning in it's cave, refusing to bed down and Jake needs some containing and to be held, emotionally and mentally. So back to self contained we go for most (not all) of his academics. I am so proud of my boy, he did the best he could. Now it's time for him to be the best he can.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Sleep Bipolar Bear...sleep!
I apologize for the gap between posts, it's been a hectic couple of months to say the least. The family moved house and thus school districts. We are in a smaller more dilapidated house and as we are renting we really can do very little to improve it during the lease cycle. Along with the obvious transitional hurdles; new schools, new teachers, new academic expectations we are also dealing with new symptoms of an old companion. Namely Early Onset Bipolar ones.
I can not remember if I went into much detail in previous posts about Early Onset Bipolar Disorder (EOBDO), today though I feel compelled, if not for me for my beautiful and amazingly creative son, Jacob.
The reality is Mood Disorders are as prevalent in the pediatric community as they are in the adult. Mood disorders are not caused, they are not brought on by lifestyle choice, substance abuse or cast down by El Diablo;) They are a genetic "gift." No different that hair or eye colour, inherited personality traits or if we pick the piece of chalk up with our left or right hand as a toddler. The Mood Disorder is a sleeping giant, it does not even know it slumbers beneath the person's psyche. It purrs amongst all the other sleeping traits than develop with time and like the ugly duckling is what it is; it is neither good, nor bad, it is what it is. It is black and white, it has no agenda, no ideology. It is as organic as our biological cravings or need to walk in the sunshine.
We as humans give it a personality, judgement, identity and a face. We paint mood disorder as if it has arms and legs and a tail that whips at the world. Makes sense, we anthropomorphize the animals around us, why not the ones that prowl our minds (see what I did just there?)
My oldest, Jacob transverses multiple dimensions of comorbidity. Sounds grand doesn't it? Essentially he has overlapping neurological disorders: Autism, Adhd and Early Onset Bipolar Disorder. We have come a thousand lifetimes with Jacob's journey, hit so many peaks and valleys. At the ripe old age of 11 years, 7 months and a few days we are again in the valley. New school, new routine, new expectations. Add to that the move, growth spurt, hormones, life then being a little boy still clinging to the safety of his Mother's leg, the fear so evident in his eyes. A Mother's fear to gently peel those arms away from her leg, he must feel he is walking in a tightrope that criss crosses and deceives the walker.
How can we wonder why his bipolar companion awoke from it's stable slumber and declared "I WILL hold you......come dance and play with me." Jacob's terror and fascination is palpable.
Tomorrow Jacob and I will visit his doctor to find a way to calm his inner world and put to bed Bipolar....it truly needs to sleep....again, until another day.
I can not remember if I went into much detail in previous posts about Early Onset Bipolar Disorder (EOBDO), today though I feel compelled, if not for me for my beautiful and amazingly creative son, Jacob.
The reality is Mood Disorders are as prevalent in the pediatric community as they are in the adult. Mood disorders are not caused, they are not brought on by lifestyle choice, substance abuse or cast down by El Diablo;) They are a genetic "gift." No different that hair or eye colour, inherited personality traits or if we pick the piece of chalk up with our left or right hand as a toddler. The Mood Disorder is a sleeping giant, it does not even know it slumbers beneath the person's psyche. It purrs amongst all the other sleeping traits than develop with time and like the ugly duckling is what it is; it is neither good, nor bad, it is what it is. It is black and white, it has no agenda, no ideology. It is as organic as our biological cravings or need to walk in the sunshine.
We as humans give it a personality, judgement, identity and a face. We paint mood disorder as if it has arms and legs and a tail that whips at the world. Makes sense, we anthropomorphize the animals around us, why not the ones that prowl our minds (see what I did just there?)
My oldest, Jacob transverses multiple dimensions of comorbidity. Sounds grand doesn't it? Essentially he has overlapping neurological disorders: Autism, Adhd and Early Onset Bipolar Disorder. We have come a thousand lifetimes with Jacob's journey, hit so many peaks and valleys. At the ripe old age of 11 years, 7 months and a few days we are again in the valley. New school, new routine, new expectations. Add to that the move, growth spurt, hormones, life then being a little boy still clinging to the safety of his Mother's leg, the fear so evident in his eyes. A Mother's fear to gently peel those arms away from her leg, he must feel he is walking in a tightrope that criss crosses and deceives the walker.
How can we wonder why his bipolar companion awoke from it's stable slumber and declared "I WILL hold you......come dance and play with me." Jacob's terror and fascination is palpable.
Tomorrow Jacob and I will visit his doctor to find a way to calm his inner world and put to bed Bipolar....it truly needs to sleep....again, until another day.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Learning Disabled...not a bit!
One in six children have a learning disorder. Did you know that; do you even know what that means in the grand plethora of schemes? It means 16% of school age children have a learning disability. Still not feeling the magnitude of the numerals? In John's school alone of the 800 students, 128 have a learning disorder. So in the average class size of say 25, roughly 4 students will have a learning disability.
Of course it's easy to throw out numbers, stats and raw information. It removes the personal facet of the reality of these children. Learning disability, LD! Some have suggested it's merely the PC label for thick or dumb, or horror of horrors, retard (a personal 'favorite'). I have known supposed "retarded" autistic children who wear GPS tracker anklets to know where every pair of scissors in theirs and three neighboring houses are. John can tell you anything you would ever need to know about Dinosaurs and Pokemon. Jacob used the word delusional correctly in a sentence this evening...he's 11. Focused and tunnel vision, perhaps, retarded...hardly?
We all carry aspects of a learning disability within us. They're called strengths and weaknesses; remember prospective employers ask about both all the time. I think about the incredibly gifted people in my life who struggle with something as basic as contractions and homonyms because in our day LD was "thick," "stupid," "retarded," or "slow." My LD kids work a bit harder than the other 84% do, but I suspect there are parts of my 1 in 6 babies that 84% relish. After all, who else can know the solar system in such intimate detail as John....when he was 4? Next time you want to attack someone because their there, their, they're isn't perfect, or where, were, we're is off you'll remember this and stop yourself. 1 in 6 is not thick, we just think differently. So did Newton.
Of course it's easy to throw out numbers, stats and raw information. It removes the personal facet of the reality of these children. Learning disability, LD! Some have suggested it's merely the PC label for thick or dumb, or horror of horrors, retard (a personal 'favorite'). I have known supposed "retarded" autistic children who wear GPS tracker anklets to know where every pair of scissors in theirs and three neighboring houses are. John can tell you anything you would ever need to know about Dinosaurs and Pokemon. Jacob used the word delusional correctly in a sentence this evening...he's 11. Focused and tunnel vision, perhaps, retarded...hardly?
We all carry aspects of a learning disability within us. They're called strengths and weaknesses; remember prospective employers ask about both all the time. I think about the incredibly gifted people in my life who struggle with something as basic as contractions and homonyms because in our day LD was "thick," "stupid," "retarded," or "slow." My LD kids work a bit harder than the other 84% do, but I suspect there are parts of my 1 in 6 babies that 84% relish. After all, who else can know the solar system in such intimate detail as John....when he was 4? Next time you want to attack someone because their there, their, they're isn't perfect, or where, were, we're is off you'll remember this and stop yourself. 1 in 6 is not thick, we just think differently. So did Newton.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Being a soft kid!
There is a curse amongst most (if not all) stay at home parents. Finding companionship, human interaction, adult interjection, anyone BUT children. As much as we adore them our children, I have been an at home parent for over 6 years now, which by the way was not on my to do list. Having said that, neither was my adventure into autism, adhd and sensory processing disorder. (What you missed out???)
The latter three has imprinted on me a need to give everyone about 15 chances before writing them off. That's about 14 chances more than most give and there's both good and bad to both judgements. One is reactionary, albeit instinctive. It reads a situation, renders a decision, executes a judgement and wipes off hands. The other is the sad arsed bleeding heart reactionary (that on occasion would be me). I have seen so much diversity, reasons why people act the way they do I often (no, always) look for the psychological reason. I am a social psychologist at heart and I tend to see why people act the way they do and communicate the way they choose. As such, (unless they promote beheading) I give them far more time and chances than 90% of my fellow human brethren. Don't get me wrong, I am not blind, but on occasion I look too deep. Sometimes no matter how deep I look, the reality is, the person I was giving that 15th chance to is still a hopeless divvie.
Some of us are not wired in to knowing when others are being emotional users, some of us need help. Tonight I needed help. I learned. Learning can be tough, but it never disappoints.
The latter three has imprinted on me a need to give everyone about 15 chances before writing them off. That's about 14 chances more than most give and there's both good and bad to both judgements. One is reactionary, albeit instinctive. It reads a situation, renders a decision, executes a judgement and wipes off hands. The other is the sad arsed bleeding heart reactionary (that on occasion would be me). I have seen so much diversity, reasons why people act the way they do I often (no, always) look for the psychological reason. I am a social psychologist at heart and I tend to see why people act the way they do and communicate the way they choose. As such, (unless they promote beheading) I give them far more time and chances than 90% of my fellow human brethren. Don't get me wrong, I am not blind, but on occasion I look too deep. Sometimes no matter how deep I look, the reality is, the person I was giving that 15th chance to is still a hopeless divvie.
Some of us are not wired in to knowing when others are being emotional users, some of us need help. Tonight I needed help. I learned. Learning can be tough, but it never disappoints.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Universal Change
I spent a good part of today on the phone or meeting in person with facilitators and spec ed teachers. Thank ye Gawds for brilliant professionals who not only are good at their jobs but have a vocation to work with children. The administrative aspect of school transfers is all but complete and all three wains know at least cognitively we will be moving in a few weeks. What has taken me aback has been how I was anticipating this volcanic reaction from them and apart from a quick lava spike, they are suddenly full in....to the point I have to stop John and Hannah from trying to pack up their wee worlds before the weekend.
I am in constant awe of my children and their ability to morph and grow, but even more so after these last few days. Of course there is so much more to come, the actual move, first days of a new school, first day on a new bus, first day in a new lunch room. It makes me consider though how many firsts we all encounter, sometimes on a daily basis. Firsts are scary of course; it's a sojourn off the precipice, a footprint into the unknown. I will freely admit, I have moments of abject terror at the thought of this move, from suburban comfort of ownership into more condensed renterville. Then I watch the innocence of my 8 year old dash about his room piling stuffed animals into an old cardboard box, giddy with the anticipation; I catch myself, slump to my knees beside him and giggle as we both squish in yet another Build a Bear Puppy.
Changes are scary for sure, but they are also just that, change! I know for me this is the first step of many changes, some bigger than others, but all ok with the universe. Afterall, the Universe has never let me down before, time to take that deep breath and let it do it's thing again.
I am in constant awe of my children and their ability to morph and grow, but even more so after these last few days. Of course there is so much more to come, the actual move, first days of a new school, first day on a new bus, first day in a new lunch room. It makes me consider though how many firsts we all encounter, sometimes on a daily basis. Firsts are scary of course; it's a sojourn off the precipice, a footprint into the unknown. I will freely admit, I have moments of abject terror at the thought of this move, from suburban comfort of ownership into more condensed renterville. Then I watch the innocence of my 8 year old dash about his room piling stuffed animals into an old cardboard box, giddy with the anticipation; I catch myself, slump to my knees beside him and giggle as we both squish in yet another Build a Bear Puppy.
Changes are scary for sure, but they are also just that, change! I know for me this is the first step of many changes, some bigger than others, but all ok with the universe. Afterall, the Universe has never let me down before, time to take that deep breath and let it do it's thing again.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Transitions galore
Transitions are rough on the most savvy and contained individual; add in being little and having limited social understanding and social cues. Actually that sounds far worse than it really is, but both my lads will need a bit of extra TLC in the coming weeks. We are moving...not far, about 20 minutes closer to Atlanta. There is a multitude of reasons to explain why, if you want the nitty gritty feel free to message me.
Nothing has been said nor explained to the children for now. I was waiting to get a new place sorted and the T's crossed and I's dotted. I wish I could. They're not stupid and while I wait for my partner to catch up with the reality of the emotional aspect of this situation we have three wee kids who need answers. I spent much of today trying to put myself in their heads, understand what this move (the beginning of a few) means. I myself have moved over a dozen times the last 3 decades, but my wains have been happily solidified the last five. They thrive on structure and consistency and we are about to send them down the pin ball table like frigid marbles.
The next few weeks/months will be awful, liberating, irritating and real all at once. I will be ok; I always am. I hate not being able to protect and anticipate my kids needs. Parenting...one tough arse job!
Nothing has been said nor explained to the children for now. I was waiting to get a new place sorted and the T's crossed and I's dotted. I wish I could. They're not stupid and while I wait for my partner to catch up with the reality of the emotional aspect of this situation we have three wee kids who need answers. I spent much of today trying to put myself in their heads, understand what this move (the beginning of a few) means. I myself have moved over a dozen times the last 3 decades, but my wains have been happily solidified the last five. They thrive on structure and consistency and we are about to send them down the pin ball table like frigid marbles.
The next few weeks/months will be awful, liberating, irritating and real all at once. I will be ok; I always am. I hate not being able to protect and anticipate my kids needs. Parenting...one tough arse job!
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