Tag

autism

My place on the spectrum

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I am not autistic. That’s a statement that would never be questioned by anyone. I simply, would not qualify for a diagnosis of autism.

However.

I firmly, truly, in my core, believe in what so many of us think and know: that autism is a spectrum. And it includes neurotypicals. NTs and autistics are not fundamentally different – they just fall on different parts of the spectrum. 

So, if it’s a spectrum – that means that at some point there’s a midline, right? A midline where one thing becomes the other. Where Neutorypical meets Autistic. And that’s near where I fall. I am not autistic. But I am close enough to that midline to GET that other side of the spectrum. 

I believe that’s why I love working with autistic kids. I believe that’s why I understand them. I believe that’s why they understand me. I believe that’s why sometimes I intuitively just KNOW why they do or say something. 

I believe that I’m lucky to land on the spectrum where I do. I believe that I get the benefits of both the NT and the autistic aspects. I believe that despite not being autistic, I can firmly consider myself an understander, and an ally, because I Get It.

I believe that I’m lucky.

I believe in Autism Awesomeness.

Progress Reports.

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It’s Progress Report time, which, for a special education school, means reporting on the progress of each benchmark within each goal, for each student. For me, it’s reporting on their progress towards their Receptive/Expressive Language (speech/language) goal.

And while doing that, I’ve realized how much of our data is confounded. I mean, obviously. There are a million different factors and that goes with the job, with the therapy. But I have so many students who live very much in their heads. Some who can even express what it’s like to be inside their minds and their bodies, who can explain, whether it’s through a script or a drawing, how their brain works.

And it isn’t easy for them to come out of their heads. And it isn’t easy for them to learn in the way that we teach. Easier when we modify, easier when we cater toward their needs and personalities, but still not easy.

So when I report that a student did not achieve a benchmark, did not obtain x/y/z skills, I’m struggling with it. Because I want to put in bold underneath:

Disclaimers:
-Student may know way more than s/he is able to show us.
-Student’s performance varies based on his/her internal state and sensory regulation.

Now I don’t know how much the Dept. of Ed. would like that (sarcasm) so I don’t do that. But I want the parents of my students to understand. That it’s not necessarily that their child can’t do something. Yes, there are things they can’t do, can’t understand, can’t comprehend. But I truly, firmly, strongly believe that more often than not? It’s that the world around them is not shaped in a way where they can SHOW what they know. Where they can access the knowledge that’s being taught. Where they can truly express their knowledge, thoughts, and comprehension.

I just want parents to know that. That I think their kids, all of them, are brilliant. That I understand them. A lot. On a nonverbal way, on that I-understand-him-through-my-soul way. That no matter what my Progress Report says, no matter how many benchmarks are or are not achieved, I will not give up. I will not think their child is incapable, not think that they have plateaued in development, not think that they do not or cannot understand something. I will not stop trying to meet them on their level, and I will not stop trying to teach in a way that they get. And if that means scripting back and forth with a student for 20 minutes so that I can explain a concept in a way that they understand? You bet I’ll do it.

Your kids are brilliant. All of them.

Please know that I know that.

The beautiful symphony of scripting

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Please. please. please. read. this. post.
This post, these words, they explain, better than I ever could, why I indulge my students’ scripts, why I try to meet them in their world, or at least at the fence. 

(via Diary of a Mom)

 

Brooke skips through fields of words and frolics in their sounds. She rolls from one to the next — Water Water Besha Besha — filling her pockets with the ones that delight her senses, dropping the rest on the grass with a satisfying thud as she runs, overcome with squealing laughter, a vocal gymnast throwing sounds twirling, twisting, flipping into the wind. My girl loves sounds. As tongue-tyingly frustrating as they may be when forced into the box of Other People’s Perceptions, words and sounds and sounds that are words are wondrous, joyful, FREE when unburdened by Communicative Purpose. 

From today’s post – a playground of words, featuring Julia Bascom –http://wp.me/pNO8N-43n

Stranger Danger

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Okay, let’s talk about stranger danger. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t get in a car with a stranger. Don’t go look for a puppy with a stranger. If a stranger makes you feel uncomfortable, tell your parents. Follow those rules and you, a little child, will be safe, right?

Wrong.

Stranger Danger is important to teach, don’t get me wrong. But it dangerously avoids mentioning the fact that…actually, maybe even more often than not (don’t quote me on that, I’m not a professional in this area nor do I claim to be. I’m speaking from my own experiences with friends, students, clients, kids) a Bad Thing happens and it’s the parent, the uncle, the cousin, the brother. What then? A little kid may review the stranger danger rules in her head, but they couldn’t possibly apply here. She’s only doing what her dad, or her uncle, who tell her how much they love her, wants. Family members are always right, they love their kids. So this must be okay. After all, nobody told her otherwise.

The point is, kids don’t necessarily intuitively know when something is wrong. Or, their gut feeling is smothered by the adult telling her that family loves each other, so be a good girl and do what you’re told.

Kids need to be taught. No, they don’t need to be graphically taught what childhood sexual abuse is, or have their worlds shattered and learn that yes, these loving adults do hurt kids sometimes. No, it’s simpler than that. Rather than just stranger danger, kids need to know that if anyone, no matter who, does something that they don’t like, or that makes them upset, they should tell someone. Kids need to be told that if it’s mom or dad who do something that they don’t like, they can tell a teacher. Or a friend’s parent. That everyone makes mistakes, even family, even teachers, so it’s okay to ask for help if they made a mistake that you don’t like. That the adult you tell will know that you still love them, and that will never be questioned.

And this especially needs to be taught to our special needs kids. I think of my autistic kids who are so literal. If they aren’t explicitly told, if mom, dad, uncle John, aunt sue, teacher Sally, etc. does something you don’t like, this is who you tell, then they won’t. They won’t generalize. And that scares the shit out of me. Because neurotypical kids are vulnerable enough, hell, neurotypical adolescents and adults are vulnerable enough. Add a disability, and it’s even harder.

I don’t mean to prech. I’m just angry and upset. Because of all the cases of childhood (sexual) abuse that have affected my students and kiddos, they have ALL been victims of a family member, relative, teacher, or family friend. They have ALL stated that said person loves them and parents/etc are always right and know best. It scares me. And it breaks my heart.

Teasing + Autism

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I’m actually not talking about “typical” kids bullying kids on the spectrum. No, I’m thinking about what happens when a bunch of little kids get together, specifically my group of 6-8-year olds, all on the “higher-functioning” end of the spectrum (which is, only to illustrate that they are very verbal, independent, etc.), and a behavior I see in them often is teasing each other. Now, by teasing I mean, “Boo, Peter!!” or “We don’t like Lily!!” but severe or not, they interpret it as the other child being mean to them, and they don’t like it. So, they are mean back. And the cycle continues.

I see two ways that I can address this, and help their caretakers address this. One way is to address the reaction — strengthen their ability to ignore, to self-advocate, to speak up and say they don’t like it, etc. That I’ve got down pat. But it’s the other way, dealing with the teasing behavior, that I’m thinking about tonight. I just sat down and tried to intuitively put myself into their minds and imagine what it’s like for them and what leads them to tease. What immediately came up for me was that they want to connect, they want to bond with another child, and it’s very easy to do that by teasing a third child. Conversations are tricky, pretend play is tricky, initiating games or activities is tricky, but saying “Boo, Peter!” helps them bond with the other teaser. If I’m right (and I’m not saying I AM right, or that this is a universal application, or anything like that), then maybe the way to handle this is to really solidify ways to connect with a peer — brainstorm things to say (e.g., “Wanna play a game?”) or laugh about (e.g., knock-knock jokes). Because if this IS the case, then the behavior is certainly serving a function. Eliminating the behavior, by just saying that teasing is not okay, doesn’t give them any replacement.

Thoughts? Ideas? Experiences? Please!

Standards of behavior

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I was driving to the gym this morning, thinking, with a smile on my face, about last night. Last night, my boyfriend and I walked hand in hand to get some frozen yogurt. Along the way, I was filled with joy and decided to skip. He laughed at me, kindly. He has long-since embraced my quirkiness, and I can be my true self around him. And he said, in a lovingly, jokingly way, “Do you think people can’t see you?” And I replied, “Of course they can see me, but I don’t care.” And I went on, to say, “They probably laugh and then think how envious they are of me to be so comfortable with myself.”

And that was it. And it wasn’t until this morning that I realized. How fine of a line it is. When we work with our autistic, Aspie, NVLD kids. How often do we tell them, “That’s unexpected, that will make someone have a weird thought about you,” when if it was a neurotypical individual doing it, we would view the behavior as, “Wow, they have enviable self-esteem to be so comfortable with themselves that they do x, y, or z without worrying about it.”

I last wrote about not extinguishing “weird” behaviors unless they are detrimental to one’s becoming their true self. But it goes deeper than that. Our standards, our viewpoints, the lens in which we view behavior is so different, and it hit me big today.

Philosophy

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THIS. Jess so eloquently put it into words (as she always does), and I want you to read it. Please.

But, in case you don’t click over, in case you don’t read it and fall in love with Jess’s writing and her family and her incredible daughter, I will happily ramble away and tell you about it.

She talks about how, when setting a goal for her daughter, she asks the question, “Is this a goal that I would set in order to help my daughter to become that fullest version of herself or is it one that I would set simply because it will help her meet societal expectation?” And THAT is what I guide my treatment on. Many of my colleagues will disagree. And those colleagues are the ones who may desperately aim to extinguish flapping, squealing, jumping, other stimming behaviors. The colleague who, during class change time, yells at my student who did a jump and a squeal. (Because, he has learned, and he knows, that class change time is actually a GREAT time to do that, and he had been holding it in all throughout class) But those behaviors? They’re the ones I ignore. That don’t bother me. That, if anything, I LOVE, because they are real and true and they are providing an outlet, for thoughts and emotions and feelings and everything that otherwise would remain trapped and distracting inside. And if it is something that is truly getting in the way of a child’s becoming, then that’s one thing. I have used Social Thinking and behavior plans and visuals and countless tools. Because there are certain behaviors that are harmful to themselves or to others, or distracting in an intolerable way.

But if it’s just a “quirk?” If, at its core, it’s simply a difference from how the majority of us are? No, I have bigger things to worry about.

And, I just want to add — we ALL have quirks. And nobody put us on behavior plans for them. Sometimes I make funny noises, say weird things, I’m plenty awkward. And I’m a fantastic speech/language pathologist, I’m well-respected, and my kids like me for being who I am. Said a 6th grade boy, with Nonverbal Language Disability: “Thank you for being weird sometimes, it makes me feel better about being weird myself.”

Everyone is weird. Everyone has quirks. Sometimes that weirdness becomes dangerous or distracting. But sometimes it’s just….fun. And then, it’s okay.