He has a nickname at school: Hank.
There's a girl in his class with a crush on him.
When I toss him his jammies or throw his school clothes onto the floor, he just begins putting them on, without a word of instruction.
He still hums and hops when he's excited. Still does the v-sit thing and flaps a bit too.
He still eats with his hands, but will try a teeny-tiny taste of something new without arguing.
He watches the same clips on disney.com over and over and over and over and over, but will usually stop when the timer beeps.
He still doesn't choose to go outside much, but will go out agreeably when we force the issue, and has some fun once he's out there (see video below).
He did his ALGEBRA homework with no problem this week, with the help of a number line. (7 plus what number equals 13?)
Henry's always been on the.. ummm... easier end of the spectrum. Meaning his behaviors were never to the extreme of being debilitating or dangerous to the rest of the family or to himself. But he has been throwing "tantrums" at school ever since he first set foot in one. When he was 5, 6, 7, 8 he would throw chairs, knock over tables, kick, scratch and pinch. It was unpredictable and unmanageable for the teachers.
Now it's not happening anymore. I can't guarantee it won't happen again. I can't say that it's because of his new school or just growing up. Maybe he's just feeling more comfortable in his own skin.
I can't promise anyone that what works for my kid will work for yours. But I know you all love your kids just as much as I love mine. That's why we all found each other in the first place. And I know that even though it's the corniest thing in the world to say, loving your kid and talking to your friends and problem-solving your way through this stuff will work.
Now let's get out there and enjoy the weekend.
(Sorry this is sideways. When will I learn?!)
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
hello out there...
So here's the thing- we're really happy with Henry's new school. I keep trying to put my finger on what it is, and find a good way to say that things are good without sounding like I'm criticizing every other type of classroom- and it's just paralyzing me.
So, just to get something out here, since I've been having blogger's block for a couple months, some things I love about Henry's school are...
--He gets art, PE and music. In his previous setting, activities in these specials often surpassed his abilities, so he wasn't included.
--He is in a classroom with 16 other students, and 5 teachers. He has lots of peer interaction, and enough teachers that he doesn't become too attached/dependent on one in particular.
--He is responding to the classroom behavior expectations- worries about getting a strike (consequence for bad behavior- 3 strikes and you're out) and gets excited about coloring in a square when he has an extra good day (once each square of the picture is colored in, the class gets a party)
--Since the 1st of the year, they have been selecting a "star student of the week". They make it seem like a reward for good behavior*, but I'm sure that every child will eventually get a turn. Henry was star student the week of Jan. 19, and he LOOOVED it. He was bursting with pride. Every week he reports to me whose turn it is to be star student, and adds that he wishes he could be star student again.
*The week that he was star student, the class newsletter said "Thank you Henry for being a great role model for your peers. Simple steps to be the Star Student: Follow classroom and school rules, Participate in class, Turn in daily homework, Set a good example for peers."
--Teachers and students seem to appreciate Henry for who he is. We've always heard "oh, he's so cute" "he's just darling" from teachers, and while that's nice to hear, it can at times sound like your child is not being taken seriously. Or like "I can't understand a damn word that the kid says, but he sure is cute with those glasses!"
My impression at the new school is that, while they do appreciate his looks and charm, the adults also have high expectations for my 9.5-year-old son.
The bigger picture that makes all of this work is, he is in a class with his peers (other children with autism- those peers. Not typical peers), but his education is molded to fit his individual needs. When I observed a couple weeks ago, a group of 6 students (including Henry) was working on their spelling words. He is in a different group for reading, another for math, etc.
In his previous school, I don't think he ever felt part of a class. When he was included in the typical classroom, he sat in the back with an aide, and as long as he wasn't disruptive, it was considered successful. But that felt like visiting the second grade, not being a part of it.
In the previous placement Henry had one teacher, 2 aides, and the teacher's supervisor was miles away. At the new school, teachers have so many colleagues, all expert in teaching children with ASDs, right in the same building. It has to make their job easier.
Throughout the years all of Henry's teachers have tried their damnedest. All of them. All of the aides too. But there just wasn't the manpower required to make it work this well. I question whether there is enough manpower in any public school system? But God knows that I'm no expert, so that's a debate for wiser heads than mine.
Some of the things Henry is doing lately that I'm geeked about (some are small, but you other moms get it that the proof is in the small stuff):
--Calling us "mom" and "dad" vs. mommy and daddy.
--Answering "yeah" rather than "yes". I know this is a pet peeve for some parents, but to me it sounds so much more natural.
--Getting off the bus, waving and saying "hi mom" first- before I greet him.
--Offering up tidbits about his day without being asked- especially if he's gotten a strike or colored in a square that day
--Using his body/muscles in new ways- pushing the shopping cart and then stepping up to ride on it- think about how much upper body strength that requires! And last night he "walked" his feet up on Bill while pushing up with his hands (can you picture that- like doing a pushup and walking your feet up the wall...)
--Awesome back-and-forth with his brother: "you're bothering me", "can you move please?", etc.
--Last night Henry inquired "what are you making for you to eat?" (He was already eating mac & cheese.) I misunderstood the question at first, thinking surely he was asking what else I was making for him to eat. But no- he just wondered what I was having! Just making conversation!
"A tuna wrap" I answered.
"Say that word again" he replied.
So I repeated, and explained how I was making it.
"Do you want to see?" I asked, thinking for sure he would gag when he saw (and smelled) the tuna salad. But no- he remained interested. I spooned the tuna into the tortilla and wrapped it up. "A tuna wrap!" he proclaimed. So proud of his new knowledge.
"Do you want to try a bite?" I asked.
"No thank you." No surprise there.
But who knows? Maybe next time he'll want to help me make it. Maybe one day I'll lounge on the couch while my son makes me a tuna wrap. It could happen. Anything is possible...
So, just to get something out here, since I've been having blogger's block for a couple months, some things I love about Henry's school are...
--He gets art, PE and music. In his previous setting, activities in these specials often surpassed his abilities, so he wasn't included.
--He is in a classroom with 16 other students, and 5 teachers. He has lots of peer interaction, and enough teachers that he doesn't become too attached/dependent on one in particular.
--He is responding to the classroom behavior expectations- worries about getting a strike (consequence for bad behavior- 3 strikes and you're out) and gets excited about coloring in a square when he has an extra good day (once each square of the picture is colored in, the class gets a party)
--Since the 1st of the year, they have been selecting a "star student of the week". They make it seem like a reward for good behavior*, but I'm sure that every child will eventually get a turn. Henry was star student the week of Jan. 19, and he LOOOVED it. He was bursting with pride. Every week he reports to me whose turn it is to be star student, and adds that he wishes he could be star student again.
*The week that he was star student, the class newsletter said "Thank you Henry for being a great role model for your peers. Simple steps to be the Star Student: Follow classroom and school rules, Participate in class, Turn in daily homework, Set a good example for peers."
--Teachers and students seem to appreciate Henry for who he is. We've always heard "oh, he's so cute" "he's just darling" from teachers, and while that's nice to hear, it can at times sound like your child is not being taken seriously. Or like "I can't understand a damn word that the kid says, but he sure is cute with those glasses!"
My impression at the new school is that, while they do appreciate his looks and charm, the adults also have high expectations for my 9.5-year-old son.
The bigger picture that makes all of this work is, he is in a class with his peers (other children with autism- those peers. Not typical peers), but his education is molded to fit his individual needs. When I observed a couple weeks ago, a group of 6 students (including Henry) was working on their spelling words. He is in a different group for reading, another for math, etc.
In his previous school, I don't think he ever felt part of a class. When he was included in the typical classroom, he sat in the back with an aide, and as long as he wasn't disruptive, it was considered successful. But that felt like visiting the second grade, not being a part of it.
In the previous placement Henry had one teacher, 2 aides, and the teacher's supervisor was miles away. At the new school, teachers have so many colleagues, all expert in teaching children with ASDs, right in the same building. It has to make their job easier.
Throughout the years all of Henry's teachers have tried their damnedest. All of them. All of the aides too. But there just wasn't the manpower required to make it work this well. I question whether there is enough manpower in any public school system? But God knows that I'm no expert, so that's a debate for wiser heads than mine.
Some of the things Henry is doing lately that I'm geeked about (some are small, but you other moms get it that the proof is in the small stuff):
--Calling us "mom" and "dad" vs. mommy and daddy.
--Answering "yeah" rather than "yes". I know this is a pet peeve for some parents, but to me it sounds so much more natural.
--Getting off the bus, waving and saying "hi mom" first- before I greet him.
--Offering up tidbits about his day without being asked- especially if he's gotten a strike or colored in a square that day
--Using his body/muscles in new ways- pushing the shopping cart and then stepping up to ride on it- think about how much upper body strength that requires! And last night he "walked" his feet up on Bill while pushing up with his hands (can you picture that- like doing a pushup and walking your feet up the wall...)
--Awesome back-and-forth with his brother: "you're bothering me", "can you move please?", etc.
--Last night Henry inquired "what are you making for you to eat?" (He was already eating mac & cheese.) I misunderstood the question at first, thinking surely he was asking what else I was making for him to eat. But no- he just wondered what I was having! Just making conversation!
"A tuna wrap" I answered.
"Say that word again" he replied.
So I repeated, and explained how I was making it.
"Do you want to see?" I asked, thinking for sure he would gag when he saw (and smelled) the tuna salad. But no- he remained interested. I spooned the tuna into the tortilla and wrapped it up. "A tuna wrap!" he proclaimed. So proud of his new knowledge.
"Do you want to try a bite?" I asked.
"No thank you." No surprise there.
But who knows? Maybe next time he'll want to help me make it. Maybe one day I'll lounge on the couch while my son makes me a tuna wrap. It could happen. Anything is possible...
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