end of school

I'm at home with "sick" (but not really sick) Tommy today, and thought I'd try to catch the blog up on the past month or so.

Although Henry is still in school this week- making up some calamity days- his class had their end-of-the-year events last week. Thursday they had an "awards ceremony" and then early dismissal. The awards ceremony was cute- each child came to the front of the class to receive some kind of candy and a certificate. The awards were not academic, but based on the child's personality. For example, one boy was given a box of Whoppers and his award was for the "best storyteller". I can only assume that he tells some tall and lengthy tales, as some ASD kids tend to do.

After the award was given, classmates were encouraged to say something nice about their friend. I was so moved- even the children that I've observed to be very non-communicative stood up in front of the class and called on classmates by name. Those kids are troopers- every one of them! The same couple girls were always the ones to say something- and it usually was a take-off on what the teachers had said: in this example "you always tell really good stories".

Henry didn't want to say much about his classmates, and when I did prompt him to, you could tell that he was scripting. For example, one boy is on Henry's baseball team. I whispered in his ear that he could say something about that. Henry raised his hand and, when called on, stood up and said "you were once on my baseball team. The Florida Marlins." in an announcer-type voice. He didn't get that he was supposed to say something nice, like "you always do a good job".

When school started in the fall , Henry was quite fixated on Prince Caspian. That's what he was for Halloween, and I think the teachers didn't realize it was just one in a string of movie obsessions. So all year they have all talked a lot about Prince Caspian, even though Henry doesn't show much interest at home anymore.

Henry's award was for "best hugger" and he was given a bag of Hershey's hugs. "I don't want this award" he proclaimed. "I want the Prince Caspian award". I was a little embarassed, but the teacher didn't miss a beat. She picked up a pen and wrote /Prince Caspian Award on the certificate. With any other, typical, child, I would think this was giving in/reinforcing bratty behavior. But as we parents (and teachers) of special ed kids know, we have to pick our battles.

After we left school that day, I re-learned a lesson. I thought I would suprise Henry with a trip to the zoo- just me and him. I didn't bring it up at home because I didn't want Tommy to hear and be jealous. Well, of course my little predictable-structure-loving man didn't like my idea. He wanted nothing to do with the zoo (even though he'd been asking to go for weeks). He wanted to go to the library. Of course. I persevered and drove out to the zoo, only to find that I didn't have my membership card. (Doh!) So what ended up happening? That's right, Henry got his way and we went to the library. At least we stopped at a park for a picnic lunch first.

Another lesson re-learned this week: make Henry do things, even when he protests. We joined the community center pool this weekend. Bill and Tommy went ahead to swim and I started laying the groundwork with Henry. He was watching the same scene over and over from Sleeping Beauty- the big finale when the Prince is let out of the dungeon and fights the dragon. re-playing it over and over. I could have just let him keep doing that while I cleaned the house or read a book.

I mentioned getting ready for the pool. He said he didn't want to go, but then turned the dvd off after one more playing of the scene. He sat on the couch, repeating that he didn't want to go. I threw his swim trunks and shirt down the stairs and by the time I got down there he had put them on. His words say "no" but his actions say "yes".

Would you believe that once he got in the pool (he was timid at first) he didn't want to get out for HOURS? I actually heard him saying "watch this mom" "watch this mom" over and over. It was awesome! But also humbling. How many days do I let him sit and perseverate on something, all by himself, rather than pushing him to do something interactive with us? I must remember not to get lazy.

One other development that I want to mention- Henry's speech and occupational therapists are starting a group called "Food Explorers" for kids with food issues. The idea is not necessarily to get them to eat anything new yet, but just get accustomed to touching the food, talking about it, in sort of a scientific way- talking about the properties of different foods, etc. The group will meet a couple times a week during the 5 or 6 weeks of summer school. I will let you know if anything exciting comes of it.

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...

what's been happening

Henry did fantastic going back to school last week. I have hesitated to write about it because I know many other kids had a rougher time getting back on schedule, and I don't want to seem like I'm bragging! But we all know that what goes around comes around, and I'm sure we've got a rough week in our future.
Monday he got off the bus in a cheerful mood, told Bill he had "a terrific day", and that he wanted to "go home and play with that Wii" instead of going to daddy's workout place. Bill obliged, and they had several rousing games of bowling and baseball. (Back in the summer I wrote about how much Henry enjoyed playing Wii. We didn't end up getting one for his birthday, but did score one for Christmas.) I can't say enough about the Wii. Not only does it get our sedentary guy moving, and trying new things, but he loves to play with others, and cheer them on. "Pick up that spare Daddy!" he'll holler, frame after frame after frame...
The only downside, as you might have suspected, is getting him to stop playing. He becomes quite single-minded and frantic about playing, and shouts and cries when it's time to stop. Hopefully that will get better over time.
Here is a little video from Christmas day at my Mother-in-Law's house. Henry is bowling and you can hear him announce "8 pins!" and then "1 pin!" He also likes to mimic some of the game noises...


Another cool thing that happened Monday was that Henry sat and watched the first hour of the Fiesta Bowl with Bill. He really watched and paid attention to the game, and echoed every single thing that his dad said ("Ahhh- you gotta catch that!") It was pretty neat to see and hear!
Tuesday evening Henry told me his teacher "wrote a very special note". I checked his notebook, and here's what it said:
Henry has been an excellent A+ student! I told him that I would write a very special note. We are very pleased with Henry's hard work and excellent attitude! Keep up the good work Henry!
I can't be sure what was behind this, if it was a bribe of some kind? But whatever the story behind it, I loved reading it. A hell of a lot nicer to read than the notes last year about how he was hurting his friends. And a good reminder that positive reinforcement works with kids. All kids.
Considering what a good week it was, I was caught off-guard by the sadness on Friday. You know, the sadness that is always there, beneath the surface, when you have a child with a disability. I was reading through all the papers that Henry brought home, and there was one announcing get-togethers for siblings. The flyer included quotes from kids about how much fun the groups were and explained that they discuss the hard parts and the good parts of having a special-needs brother or sister.
And I just started crying. Bam.
Um, hello? Your son was diagnosed with PDD 4 years ago. His brother and sister are both siblings of a special-needs kid. This is not news.
But sometimes you see it in a different context and it somehow strikes you anew.
And that brings me to another item I wanted to write about. We have talked to Tommy a little bit about Autism- explaining that some things are harder for his brother, etc. So one morning before school they were watching 101 Dalmations. There's a scene where all the dalmations are supposed to go to bed, but one keeps watching tv. So we're driving to the bus stop and Tommy pipes up "mommy, maybe Lucky* is Autistic. Because he gets right up close to the tv and doesn't want to stop watching it, just like Henry."
Then he turns to Henry and says "Henry, do you know that you are Autistic?" And I just about drive the car up onto the sidewalk.
Henry doesn't even look up from his book, just replies "yes".
So there we have it. All my worry about explaining stuff and the sibling relationship was for nothing.
Here are the brothers having a sword fight on Christmas- the weather was beautiful in Charlotte:

ducking and rolling

I know I've said this before: that I like to think I'm a real flexible, by-the-seat-of-my-pants mom (in a good way). But too much of that can wear me out- I really like my routine. This week has been chock-full of changes and adjustments- ducking and rolling.
We ended up voting when the polls first opened Tuesday- Bill went from work (he goes in to work very early), the boys and I went up and got in line, waited about 20 minutes or so and then Bill was done and could take them home while I kept waiting. I love taking my kids to the polls when I can, I want them to understand what a special right it is. I always get choked up when I explain that people in other countries don't get to choose who their leader is. (The election merits a separate post: coming soon.)

So anyway, the voting was out of the way and we got to the bus stop right on schedule.

Every morning Henry carefully selects a half dozen prints, along with a few books or magazines, or maybe a DVD box, to take along in the car and on the bus. His bus ride is about 40 minutes each way. A couple times he has brought a Leapster to play or the CD player and headphones to listen to, but mostly he just brings his beloved things to look at. While we wait for the bus I check each item to make sure it bears his name, so we can get it back eventually if it is left somewhere.

Monday afternoon Bill reported that the bus driver told him she wanted Henry to only bring one thing on the bus. I guess I assumed this was a suggestion, and didn't realize that it was a new rule. One that we should have prepped for a bit before Tuesday morning. So I walk Henry up to the bus and she stops him and says "remember, you can only bring one thing today."

Aye yie yie. His face crumpled and he proclaimed "I will bring nothing! I will leave it here!" I was about to cry myself. I was very close to just telling her that we would start the new plan tomorrow- we need more time to get used to the idea. But I didn't want to be the parent that undermines the bus driver's authority.

I do understand her reasoning: Henry wants to keep the stuff in his hands. He refuses to put it in his backpack, even just getting on and off the bus. His little legs are still so short that he can barely climb the bus steps as it is, and when you factor in the hodge-podge handful of papers sticking this way and that, you know he's going to fall or drop something, crawl around to find it, and hold up all the kids on the bus as well as all the traffic lined up behind it. I do understand. But I'm sad for my kid. Sad that he doesn't understand this better and sad that he won't just adapt by shoving the stuff in his backpack. Sad that I can't just make it right for him. Sad that I couldn't just grab him and his stuff off the bus, put him in the car, and drive him to school. But what would that achieve? It would make him feel better and make me feel better...

Anyway, he was pissed and I was pissed and the bus drove away. I was frankly worried that he would become very aggressive on the bus and start attacking other kids. Ms. Bus Driver has not seen that side of Henry. She would be (again, understandably) very upset and then the whole problem would escalate...

I immediately vented to my new mom friend at the bus stop, and she advised me to call the school and ask them to help me work on this issue. I called and spoke to one of his teachers to warn her that he might be upset when he gets to school. She said that they have been rewarding Henry with prints from the computer, so he has a collection of them at school also. She offered that maybe if I remind him that he has some prints at school, he'd easier leave them off the bus. I called later in the afternoon to check on him, and was told that he was having a fine day. So hopefully he is learning to manage his frustration. The past couple days have gotten better at the bus stop. This morning he still went through the motions of saying "I will bring nothing!" But then picked up his book and carried it to his seat.

But back to Tuesday morning: after the sad incident on the bus, Thomas and I drove on to L's house, only to be greeted by L in tears, saying she was having a gall bladder attack and needed to go to the emergency room! She ended up being admitted to the hospital and having surgery to remove a stone that had traveled, as well as remove her gall bladder.

So I unexpectedly had the rest of the day off on Tuesday, and presumably the rest of the week. It's not a bad thing to have to take time off work, but it's worrisome when your "co-mother" (I think I'm going to start calling her that!) is in terrible pain!

I always feel so strange when I'm home like that- torn between wanting to do stuff (go to the park, make a craft...) and wanting to veg out on the couch and eat Halloween candy. I mostly did the latter, although Thomas and I did play some legos and Bakugan. When I talked to my dad Wednesday and told him what was going on, he offered to have Tommy stay at their house for a few days, and we took him up on that offer.

I don't like that Tommy has been gone so much lately (he was at their house 2 weekends ago so we could go to a football game, and then spent the night at a friend's house last weekend), but he did call last night saying he missed us, so I guess he's not ready to leave home yet :-)

if you can get past the rant, you'll read about the open house

First, a little rant that I can't keep inside: For some reason we have been getting US magazine at my office. Jenny McCarthy is on the cover this week, with the story title "How I Saved My Son." I have tried (mostly) to keep quiet about her- some of my friends may like her or agree with her and I try to keep a live and let live mentality... But this woman does not speak for me. She is not "autism mom" personified, and I'm afraid that the general public sees her that way.

US magazine is not high-level journalism, of course, but this article contains quotes from her like "I made a deal with God the day he was diagnosed. I said, 'You fix my boy, you show me the way and I'll teach the world how I did it.' ... We're recovering kids from autism! Evan was nonspeaking, hands flapping in the corner and didn't know anyone was in the room. Look where he is now. I healed a vaccine injury." Well, as long as it's all about you!

It really reads as if this woman is using her child's disability to maintain her own fame. Please, God, let me write a book about my child's struggles, so that I can go on Larry King and yell at doctors from the American Academy of Pediatrics. If God were going to bestow special autism mom wisdom upon somebody? I can think of a dozen other women I know personally that he might choose- that he already has chosen, as a matter of fact. And those women put their heads down, get to work, hug their child and hold their friends' hands.

My son also has many more skills than he did when he was diagnosed. I don't claim to have cured him. He has grown and learned, like any child will unless he is locked in a closet somewhere. We all do our best Jenny, and I thank God for the other autism moms that I look to as sisters. But I don't count you as one of them. You are doing us all a disservice when you claim that you are the first and only mom to care enough to try to help your son. Your son will likely continue to struggle in his life. You need to stop parading him around as a "cure" story. You were and are blessed to have him in your life, and for all you think you have done for him? He has done more for you than you will ever realize.
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Ahem. Anyway. Last night a few exciting things happened:

1. Henry brought home a BIRTHDAY PARTY INVITATION. For a boy in his class. I honestly can't remember the last time Henry was invited to a birthday party. It was probably when he was 4 years old- for another kid at L's house. He has never been invited to do anything with a classmate.

2. We went to the open house at Henry's new school. We met Mr. D (the "best buddy" that Henry hangs out with at recess time), the classroom teacher, the music teacher, the classroom supervisor, and some kids in Henry's class. The cool thing was that the kids seemed to say hello to one another spontaneously- without parents urging and nudging them toward one another.

Mr. D told me that he and several others have been so touched by Henry telling them that he's "going to miss them". We talked about how that's Henry's way of reaching out- trying to let you know that he cares about you. I thought he only said those things to Bill and me, but whaddya' know? He has some other special people in his life too.

There is one mother that I recognize from the tour I took of another school for autistic kids this spring. (The tour that left me in tears). So I know her family is new to this school also. I was talking to one of the teachers when I heard her daughter come over and say hi to Henry. He said hi back. that was really about all, but my eyes met the girl's mother's eyes, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing. I knew we were both about ready to burst with pride and with relief that our children are finding more opportunities than had been open to them before.

As I said in my little rant above, our children will continue to grow and change and learn, no matter what we do, or even in spite of what we do. But I am hopeful that Henry's natural growth and learning will be fostered by his new school environment. I feel like we're on the right track.

so far, so good

Some of you may be wondering how Henry's new school is working out. I am really just trying to sit back and see how this plays out- trying not to rush to any judgment during these first couple months, so I don't want to draw any big conclusions yet, but I can share some things that have happened- good and bad.

(These pictures aren't related to school- just something fun Henry and I did together a few weeks ago. It turns out that our town has a Farmer's Market on Saturday mornings. One wouldn't know about this if one generally stays in her pajamas and drinks coffee 'til noon on Saturdays, so I'm a little late to this game. But we walked up one morning in September to check it out. Henry sat on that bench and ate almost a whole mini loaf of sweet potato bread. Then at home he ate FOUR AND A HALF of the six peaches we had purchased!!! )

So, anyway, school.
Remember the outgoing girl (let's call her O.G.) we met that first day on the school bus? Well she has become our entertainment every morning. She comes over to our car window, knocks on it, and then shows us what she's wearing that day (I have new Hannah Montana jeans, see?) or makes some other (one-sided) conversation, and then walks away again. One day I commented on her mom's Obama bumper sticker and, before I knew what hit me, outgoing girl had sold me 3 Obama t-shirts.
One morning she asked what we were listening to. It was one of our Disney read-aloud story tapes. "Henry," she announced, "I have a Lion King 1 1/2 read aloud that I never listen to anymore. You can have it. I'll bring it to the bus stop tomorrow. See you later." And she walked away. Henry's jaw was on the ground. "Is she going to get it?!" he asked.
That was a month ago. She has never found the tape but keeps insisting that she's looking for it. Her mom has no idea what read-aloud O.G. is talking about, so I'm not sure if they ever really had a Lion King 1 1/2 read aloud. O.G. brought us several Clifford and Arthur story tapes, but we all know that those don't compare to Disney.
Every morning as we approach the bus stop, Henry asks "Did (O.G.) bring the story tape?!" And every morning Thomas and I try to gently tell him that we doubt it.
I'm not sure why O.G. entertains me as much as she does- I think I just like seeing Henry interact with one of his peers. They have their little conversations (such as they are), and Friday he actually ran up to the bus and got on by himself for the first time EVER, chasing after O.G. and the elusive Lion King 1 1/2 read aloud. One morning O.G. reached through the window and started tickling Henry! I was ready for him to pinch her or shout something rude at her. But he just giggled, and then she walked back to her car. (!!!)
I've been glad to get to know outgoing girl's mom also. The first day that I got up my nerve to get out of the car at the bus stop and introduce myself to the other parents, I heard the whole story from her of how she and another mom had to fight our school district to get the kids bused to this school. O.G.'s mom told me that she doesn't think (new school) is perfect by any means, but that it is an improvement over what the district provides. That morning she basically told me what I wanted to hear- that I had made a good choice.
The most negative thing I can say right now is that I still feel communication is lacking. Some days we get those circle the smiley face reports home. More often we don't. One day Henry told us he had left his lunchbox on the bus and his teacher had given him an apple to eat. (Of course he didn't offer up this information- I had to bring it out with my interrogation skills.) I would have thought someone might have sent me a note home about that, (or even called me to ask me to bring in another lunch) but no. I sent an e-mail that night and got a response the next day, but after that I decided to just start a new communication notebook. There was one day last week Henry woke up at like 4:45 am. I wanted to send in a note, so they would understand if he seemed extra sleepy or grumpy. So I sent in a notebook and did receive a note back.
They send home fairly challenging homework every night, and Henry tackles it with absolutely no protest. This is very different from last year, and if he is working at school with the same agreeable attitude (which I can only assume he is) that is a significant improvement.
We are seeing a little more language, a growing sense of humor and, as Bill has noted, Henry seems "less stressed." When I ask about his day, Henry usually offers up whether he had art or music, and what they worked on in those classes. One night we were reading a Magic Treehouse book, and when he heard the character's name Jack, Henry piped up "just like Jack --- and Jack --- in my class!"
One silver lining I am trying to see in the lack of day-to-day communication is that it forces me to ask my son questions about his own day. Maybe he can tell me more than I think. One morning I was suggesting that he wear sneakers rather than crocs because they are safer "when you're in gym class or on the playground." "That's called recess," he corrected me.
"Right. Recess. What do you like to do at recess?"
"Mr. D is my best buddy."
"Do you hang out with Mr. D at recess?" "Yes."
"What do you guys do?" "We walk to the front desk, to see Mrs. S."
"Oh, really? Is Mr. D a teacher?" "Yes." "What class does he teach?" "He teaches in Mrs. C's class."
We have open house this week, as well as the book fair, so I will get to know all of these players a little better. I have offered to help in the classroom once a month, and hopefully they will take me up on that. (I had volunteered to help at the book fair, but they didn't need me!)

Henry's teacher e-mailed me back that same afternoon. She said I should feel free to contact her anytime, and explained that they'll also be sending home this form to report on Henry's day:

It looked like she circled the faces on this one, but subsequent forms have been self-evaluations by Henry, and all has been smiley faces.

She also said Henry is a joy to have in class. Well, duh. You can save all that teacher-y sunshine-y stuff for another mom, Miss C. Has he pinched anybody yet? I guess, on that front, no news will just be good news.

Friday evening Henry actually said "I'm going to miss my school. I'm going to miss my teachers." (!!!) I'm not going to put too much stock into that, as I think he was just plugging something in to his "I'm going to miss..." repetition. But it was still nice to hear.
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Thomas has been quite into coloring lately. For the past month or so he colors in the morning, colors in the evening, brings coloring books in the car... It's nice to see our huge collection of coloring books actually getting colored in. (Henry just likes to look at them.) I worry slightly when Tommy cries about something not being quite right- like he colored outside the lines, but he doesn't seem to be overly compulsive about it most of the time.

The other day he picked up something that Henry had made in school last year and said "why does Henry color so messy? Oh, I know, it's because he's autistic."

I did a double-take, but then said, "well, that's true. He's not as good at some things as you are. Some things, like coloring, are just harder for him, and that's because he's autistic." Well that was easier than I thought. Now Henry's younger brother understands his disability.

I know it's not really that simple, but then again, it is. To Tommy, Henry is Henry and Henry is also "autism", so Tommy knows about autism. I hope he will someday understand the kid next to him just a little bit better, like our friend Brian does. (Brian's mom's blog is private, so I can't link to it.)

This week Tommy started fall soccer, and also goes back to preschool. He is now one of the bigger kids in both settings, and although he was worried, as always, about being shy, he really wasn't shy at all. He's growing up.
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And just when I think I might be getting a grip on things, I'm really not. Henry had his 9-year checkup yesterday, and daddy took him. (Henry's doing fine. 15th percentile as always :-) Then today I realized I needed to get Thomas' medical form signed before he starts preschool. Oh, how dumb am I? I should have sent it along with them yesterday.

I faxed it over, only to have the doctor's office call and tell me that Thomas' last checkup was in February of '07. His 3-year checkup. I never took him for a 4-year checkup. Hello, youngest child, welcome to neglect.

So I need to hurry up and get him in for a checkup tomorrow so that he can go to preschool. 2 well-child visits to the doctor's office in one week. Not the most efficient way to operate, but it's all we've got.

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.

why I e-mailed Henry's teacher today

Because when I try to ask Henry a (to me) simple question about his day, here's what I get:

G: Henry, did you eat the Spongebob Cheez-Its I packed in your lunch today? (Always hoping to stumble upon something new that he will eat.)

H: I didn't eat them.

G: Oh, well, where are they then? Did you throw them away?

H: No.

G: What happened to them?

H: Mr. J took them.

G: Mr. J took your Spongebob Cheez-Its? Did he trade you for something else?

H: Yes.

G: What did he trade you?

H: The Spongebob Cheez-Its.

(Bill laughs from the other room and then takes a stab at it): What did Mr. J give you to trade for your Spongebob Cheez-Its?

H: Nothing.

G: So what happened to your Spongebob Cheez-Its?

H: I threw them away.
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Not that I need a note home every day about whether he ate his lunch or not, but I would just like a summary of the school day that has not been passed through the Henry translation screen.

He did tell us about art class yesterday. They drew lines: "jagged lines were mountains, wavey lines were water, swirly lines were clouds" (he worked on the word swirly for a bit).

And he showed us an injury on the palm of his hand: "I was so excited to get my cupcakes! But I fell." It sounds like he slipped and fell to the floor while hurrying over to get his birthday treat to share. Can you stand it?

Well, since I seem to have conveyed all my anxiety well enough to pass it on to everyone else, I feel like I should write a quick post to say that the first two days have seemed to go ok. It's hard to really evaluate, since all my information is coming from this young man of little words. He was already deep into a Disney movie by the time I got home Monday (The Sword in the Stone), and wasn't really psyched about telling me about his day.

I mostly asked him a lot of poorly-constructed questions, so that he just kept answering "yes". (Did you eat your lunch in the cafeteria? Did your teacher eat with you?) When I asked about recess, he responded "I didn't go down the slide." I can only infer that someone wanted him to go down the slide, but he refused. Or he actually did go down the slide, but doesn't want to talk to me about it...

He brought home a "madlib" worksheet he had done at school. Each page had an incomplete sentence- he had to cut out a word to fit in the blank, such as "I come to school in a ____" and he had cut and glued the word and picture for "bus". One page read "My teacher is a real ____." Henry had filled in the blank with "sweetheart". I asked him what some of the other choices were. He looked up at me with an impish smile and said "monster"! So I'm glad he didn't choose that response.

I wrote a note to his teachers yesterday, asking for guidance on Henry's birthday treat next week. They don't do daily communication notebooks at this school. But maybe I'll just force my own by writing them a note every day.

Yesterday evening, when I asked about school, he said "I went to art!" Henry's never been much into art- too challenging to his fine motor skills- so I was happy to hear his excitement. I asked what they did in art and he said "I made a dragonfly!"

This morning he started saying that he didn't want to go to (the new school), he wanted to go back to (the old school). I told him that I know it's hard to start something new and that it would take some time to get used to (the new school). I decided not to push it, and declared that by Halloween he would really like his new school. (Hopefully it happens before then, but I thought that time frame might give him the idea that it would be soon, but not right away.)

Thank you everyone for your support, and I'm sorry for all the nervousness spilling all over the place. As you know, the new school decision has been a stressful one. Of course all parents worry about their children. But our autistic children ratchet that up a level or two. It was very comfortable to have Henry at L's house this summer- a comfortable safe zone where he could also spend time with his brother. But I was caught offguard a couple different times when I realized that L couldn't understand things Henry was saying to her. She has known him his whole life, and spent the most time with him of anyone, outside our immediate home. She loves him like he's her own child. And she still doesn't know what he's telling her half the time. Really eye-opening. And really frightening, if you think about it too much: there are only 4 people in this world who understand everything Henry says.

How am I supposed to send him out in the world, knowing that?

It doesn't help that I've been reading a lot of news stories that I shouldn't. I read about bad things that happen to children, as if I think that reading about them will prevent them from happening to my kids. And then the details get stuck in my head and shake loose in the middle of the night.

This cloud will blow past- don't worry. By the time we get through this fun-filled long weekend and celebrate Henry's 9th birthday Monday, I will be all sunshine and daisies again.

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming... maybe we should all get Dory tattoos (or t-shirts, for the needle-phobes.)

the circle of life

Could I be any more cliche than this? Henry watched The Lion King a couple times this weekend and took 2 different Lion King books with him to his first day at the new school, so I just can't avoid using the circle of life phrase.

Henry has been feeling a lot of anxiety about this change to a different school. But the good news is that he's been expressing that verbally without too much other acting out. This morning he told me he didn't feel too well. And that he was nervous about going to a new school.

Of course I understand how he feels. How nervous do any of us feel when we start something new? He's not quite 9 years old and loves his routine- gulp. I can't let myself get too far inside his head or I'll be trying to smuggle him in to work with me and "office-school" him to never let him out of my sight!

So I tried very hard to remember that a mom's job is to say "I understand how you feel. It's normal to be worried about something new. But you'll be fine. Everything will be great. I think you'll love your new school!"

I remembered that a new infant was starting today at L's house, and I thought about how his parents must feel- leaving their baby for the first time.

I told Henry to think about how scared that baby might feel, but that we knew he would have so much fun at L's house and soon he would love it there.

There was a little mix-up with the bus, so we had some extra time to snap photos while waiting. It finally arrived, although it stopped about half a block from where I had been told...

Henry sat down across from a chatty 5th-grade girl. She introduced herself and asked us our names. Henry pointed to her Camp Rock binder and said "Camp Rock".
"I have a Camp Rock binder, Camp Rock notebook, Camp Rock folders, and Camp Rock pencils", she replied.
"Wow" I said.
"I'm a big fan" she explained. Then she offered to help Henry find his classroom.
This feels as hard as every other first.

Tonight we have "meet-the-teacher night" at Henry's new school. Now, before you get all excited and think that I kicked some school district butt to get him in, let me explain.

It turns out that, if you can't get your school district to agree to send your child to the private school, (I couldn't, not without calling an IEP meeting which couldn't be done until after school had already started) you can send him to the "community school" (called charter schools in most other states) arm of the same school. (If there is a community school slot available, and if the spot is offered to you.) You withdraw your child from the district of residence and enroll him in the community school.

Holy shit, this stuff is unclear. One person tells you one thing and the next person doesn't know anything about that, and you send an e-mail and leave 15 messages and wait a week to figure out what to do next. I feel like I've been through the wringer.

It doesn't help that my husband is still not drinking that kool-aid, while I'm guzzling it by the gallon. At least he's willing to give it a shot, seeing as I'm so flipping sure about this.

I'll agree with him that the place has a bit of a cult-like feel to it. Everyone is so friendly and smiling and talks in such soothing tones. But I like to think that that's because they work with autistic kids all day, and friendly, smiling and soothing are good ways to be in that environment--not because they're trying to brainwash us.

Our school district's refusal to agree to place Henry here just reinforces my feeling that they don't really care about my child. And their argument that mainstreaming in the public school prepares my child for the "real world" he will someday work and live in holds no merit with me. You know what will prepare my child for the future? Being in a safe, nurturing, understanding, respectful environment that works on his weaknesses and works with his strengths to give him an excellent education.

The "real world" can be a pretty shitty place, and I don't see any other parents going out of their way to prepare their kids for that. Why should I be expected to?

I think Bill summed it up pretty well with this analogy: a couple summers ago Henry played t-ball through our city's parks & rec dept. We told them up front that he had autism, and they were quite willing to work with him and include him. And it was fine- it was a decent experience. But then this summer we found the Miracle League. They did more than just let my kid play. The team was made for kids like him, and parents like us, and it was more than we could have hoped for. This is my hope for our new school.

I've realized that part of this is selfish. I went to a parent orientation meeting the other night, and had the most unusual feeling as I pulled into the parking lot full of cars with autism ribbons on their bumpers. The feeling grew as I looked around the room and saw parents nodding and smiling at the school founders who were speaking. I think this feeling that I'm not so used to is belonging. As Drama Mama would say, these are our people.

Just as my son will no longer be relegated to a room at the end of the hall, I will no longer be relegated to the edges of the parental realm. I would not have participated in the PTO at his old school, because he didn't really participate in the school's activities. This new school requires a lot more parental involvement, and I think that will be good for me- for all of us.

I was telling a friend about the baseball analogy- a friend who's son is 10 and plays select-league baseball. I said "yeah, maybe Miracle League isn't 'real world' baseball, but I don't care." She interrupted me and said "Or maybe Miracle League baseball is 'real world' baseball. Just as much as our league is. It's about giving everyone a chance to play."

update on the school situation

I am totally drinking the kool-aid on this new school. My husband, not-so-much. And that's good- one more example why it's good to have 2 parents to help make these decisions.

Like, on our tour, when she mentioned that they have early dismissal every Friday? I heard that, but kind of filed it in the back of my mind- we'll figure that out somehow. But Bill was like "what would we do about the Fridays? What if the school district won't pay for it and, even with the Autism Scholarship that our state offers, we still have to pay $8000 a year out-of-pocket?"

Autism moms out there- are you sitting down? Because this will surely shock you: it looks like we will have to fight a little to convince the school district that this is the best thing for Henry. I broached the subject in an e-mail, and the Director of Special Ed wrote back saying (to paraphrase) Henry has made great progress here and I think he will continue to do the same in this community setting where he can spend lots of time in the general ed classroom and remain close to home and can go to school with his brother...

The first time I read the e-mail I was just pissed- she's saying no. A few hours later, I read it again and thought, ok, she is saying positive things about Henry, and I can give her the benefit of the doubt and think that she believes these things and isn't just trying to save money or whatever other political reasons she might have to keep him in the school. The bottom line is that most administrators probably only know the kid on paper. They talk about him once a year at the IEP meeting, and then everything is carefully crafted to be positive. Remember the school psychologist who observed Henry? He didn't happen to observe any disruptive behavior, basically thought the kid was cute as a button and a little renaissance man. Yes, those words can describe my child. But he also has defecits- lots of them. I am his mom and it may sound odd to hear me talking like this. But if no one else will, I have to.

I have been drafting a response that would involve calculating how many days this year I got a note home saying that Henry had hurt someone, and how many times that resulted in him missing out on "the general ed classroom" that day, or even a special activity.

But yesterday I got a big boost: I had e-mailed Henry's classroom teacher, asking her to call me. We decided that she is really the only one who knows the school Henry- day in and day out. (I should have e-mailed her a week ago, but at first thought that might be odd- like asking your current boss about a new job you're interested in.)

In brief, (this is already NOT brief) Mrs. C totally agreed with me. She offered to call around and ask some of her colleagues for any inside scoop on the school, but concurred with all my reasons for thinking this was a good move for Henry. As I suspected, she was basically alone in trying to manage the kids in her classroom, and agreed that a whole school full of people who get it would be preferable. She also pointed out that special areas like art and music would be more accessible to Henry, as the ones in the regular elementary school are sometimes too involved or complex for her kids to participate in.

And then, the kicker: she is actually moving, and won't be back to teach this school year. And when she called to tell her supervisor about this, she was told that her supervisor is no longer working for the county. This type of inconsistency is one more reason I am looking at the private school. Yes, they may still have a high teacher turnover, but the program is more likely to remain consistent.

Mrs. C also offered to talk to the Director of Special Ed about Henry, and I have also received some ammunition from a certain fiery Cuban autism teacher I know, which will help me in my rebuttal. I'm not good with confrontation, especially confronting authority. But I can learn to do it for my kid.

My 20th high school reunion is this weekend. Yesterday I looked through a bunch of old pictures, scanned them, e-mailed them to some friends, and laughed and laughed and laughed. I am looking forward to more laughter this weekend. It seems like I am really thirsty for it lately.

today

I'm a libra, see, and I guess that's why I need to measure everything. Why a vacation has to have both a glass half full and a glass half empty point of view. Why I need to always take the other side of every argument (according to my husband, anyway). And why a day like today has to be remembered not only for the good that happened.

Our interview for the private autism school was very good. As advised, I really tried to listen to my gut throughout. And I got a good vibe. This spring I started a post (but never finished it) about a new private autism school that I visited in my quest for a summer placement for Henry. I was near hysterical by the time the tour ended. You could say my gut didn't like the place.

Because of that experience, my expectations for this more established school were heightened. I was told when we scheduled the interview that they would be getting to know Henry, we would be getting to know the school at this time, and then I would be contacted later on with their decision. But the administrator who met with us told me after about 20 minutes that she thought Henry would be just right for the position available, and she would reserve it for us. (I attribute this not only to my son's charm, but also to this woman's soft heart. She told me that she's only allowed to do a certain number of intake interviews, because she has such a hard time turning anyone away.)

My head is spinning. The place where we interviewed was the high school location (a former athletic club). The elementary school is several miles away, in a former day care center, and we have scheduled a tour there later this week. I mean, I can't just sign my kid up without visiting the school!

If you're interested in knowing more about the school, e-mail me privately. In brief, they have around 300 students in preschool through 12, and actually have some graduates who are remaining to take community college classes. Henry would initially be placed in an "intensive educational and social classroom" with the aim of being quickly integrated with the peer models.

After we briefly discussed Henry's strengths and weaknesses, Dr. M told me that they would be likely to work closely with Henry to determine why he has such a deficit with math, but also would encourage his reading strength "focusing on his interests", to see how far he could take this ability. "Maybe he could help in the library" is another idea she tossed out, which just about made me melt out of my chair.

We stopped over at the elementary location, just to see where it was and to schedule a tour. Things were chaotic, as it was pick-up time for the summer program. But I kind of liked that. I saw lots of affectionate, smiling teachers, smiling kids, smiling parents. Kind of like any other school, but with a bit more oversight. And as we were getting back into the car, a young woman driving by smiled and waved. It was the same teacher I had met at gymnastics, back when I started thinking about this school again. I haven't seen her since, but she remembered us. Seemed like a good sign.

Assuming we don't think of any reason why we shouldn't grab this opportunity, my next step is to contact the special ed director for our district and basically ask her if they will pay for Henry to attend this school. Dr. M thought they might, because she thinks it's actually cheaper for them than the county program he is now placed in. But if they don't, we will have other options.

Now I guess I was riding some kind of uber-autism-mom wave after the interview, and took both boys to Toys R Us. After exhaustive consideration, Thomas picked out a Batmobile. Henry picked out a 101 Dalmations DVD, which we already have. He's been talking about it for weeks, ever since he lost the papers that were in the first copy.

I've been trying to use logic with him, which is, of course, useless. "Henry, I really don't want to spend $20 for a DVD we already have, just so you can get the papers inside."

His response? "It doesn't cost $20."

Um, actually it does.

I'm not usually one to ask for special treatment because my son is autistic. But today I decided to give it a shot. I went up to the customer service counter, explained the situation, and asked if there was any way we could open up a dvd, take out the papers, and they could, like, wrap it back up and still sell it. A manager was called over, who listened politely, but answered in the negative.

So I bought Henry another copy of 101 Dalmations. And now I'm pissed. I'm pissed because if I were Jenny McCarthy and had a million dollars, I would just buy my kid whatever he wanted to satisfy his perseveration.

But, if I were Jenny McCarthy and went on Larry King and talked about how my son loves the papers from inside DVDs, every yahoo in America would pack up their DVD papers and send them to me.

So, that's why today had a little bit of bad in it, but mostly good :-)

And I do have some other ideas about the DVD papers- I can try asking movie rental places or libraries. And if anyone out there would like a copy of 101 Dalmations (minus the ads inside of course), let me know.

-Last Monday morning, as I was watching the list of school closings, I noticed the name of the private autism school in our area. That got me thinking, just a little.

-Later that day, I read this post about a Dream School. That got me thinking just a little more.

-Thursday morning I called the autism school and left a message asking if we were still on their waiting list.

-Thursday at noon we had our MFE and IEP meetings. I summed the meetings up to my mom (and hopefully didn't offend her) by saying "I felt like I was sitting at a table with 10 of you." What I meant by that was; almost everyone around the table seemed smitten by Henry. They are all charmed by his intelligence and his messy blond hair and his smallness. They go on and on about all the things he can do well.

Now, there are a lot of things he can do well, as you readers know, because I brag about them here all the time. And I'm certainly not suggesting that the specialists at Henry's school should bombard me with the things he doesn't do well! I think I am just getting the feeling that no one is challenging him, aside from his main teacher. And, because she challenges him, he exhibits behaviors with her that no one else sees, and these behaviors prevent her from being able to get farther with him. See the cycle?

When he was 6, it was enough that he could function in a classroom and get something out of his day. But now I feel like we need to have bigger-picture goals, and instead of trying to get this kid to fit in to a regular-ed classroom by 4th grade (which seems to be the aim of the program), we should be building upon his interests and helping him blossom.

Rather than wringing our hands because his math ability is below grade level, I'd like to see someone say "wow, Henry shows a lot of interest in Paris/the Presidents/Big Cats. Let's have him do a research project on that." Of course, we still need to focus on the math, but not at a detriment to his other skills.

I know, I'm living in a dream world. Or a homeschool world :-)

-Thursday night during Thomas' gymnastics class, I struck up a conversation with the aide of an autistic girl. (I've noticed them for weeks. Why was it this week that I decided to approach them?) I asked the girl's age and told the aide about Henry. "I'm a special ed teacher," she said, "I teach at a school called [autism school I called that day]." I told her that I was hoping to still be on their waiting list. The young woman asked me my name and Henry's, and said that she would ask someone about us. She seemed like a neat young woman (I mean, she teaches all day and then works with the kids in the evenings too) and it just seemed, to quote Drama Mama, serendipitous.

-Someone from the autism school called me back Friday, and said that we are "second on the waiting list for our birth year", so it was a "realistic possibility" that we would be getting a call for an interview.

Without having visited the school (they won't do that until you're called for an interview), it's too soon to say if this is something I hope for. But it is nice to have options. And I feel like Bill and I are getting a better idea of what we want for our son, rather than just having the other experts tell us what we should want for him.

The current situation is good. I know that we are lucky. But it's not the best. And why not be hoping for the best?

manic and love to the homeschoolers

When will I learn that drinking a larger size coffee doesn't make my brain work better? It only makes it work faster and more maniac-ly (not taking the time to figure out if that's a real word or not. See what I mean?)

Some things I'm thinking about this week:

-Should I investigate the autism school in our area? The one that we looked into back when Henry was 4 and didn't have a diagnosis yet. He's doing pretty well in our public school so far, but his success seems completely hinged on Mrs. C pulling the right tricks. On days she is out sick or because her children have a snowday (as has happened A LOT in the past month), half of his progress flies out the window and has to be re-built. How great would it be if the whole school were full of teachers who get it?

Henry has been having more 3-star days than 5-star for the past few weeks. Nearly every day he says he "feels sick" and should stay home from school. When I try to press him further on what feels sick, he (as has been the case for his whole life) cannot tell me. So I have been ignoring it.

His eating has become even more particular- he won't eat pasta and sauce anymore and I have resorted to trying different sauces and different shapes of pasta (he always asks for "the seashell kind".)

It seems like something is up. His teacher has not been sending homework home regularly either for the past few weeks, making it hard for us to keep a routine at home. Perhaps she is just very busy right now with IEPs, etc. But, again, I'd love it if my son could be in an environment where everything does not rely on ONE teacher.

-Henry has been asking to "sleep longer in your bed", meaning he wants to fall asleep in our bed and stay there. He never ever did this as a younger child, it is relatively new, and again makes me wonder what is up.

-What will Henry do this summer? Let's search the internet... Here's a super-cool looking program right near our house, but it costs twice as much a week as the Easter Seals program he's attended in the past. I wonder if there is funding out there that Henry could qualify for? Where would I look? Who would I ask? I'll add it to my to-do list.

It seems like my to-do list is always growing. I know that's true with everyone.

I'm not sure what's bringing on this frenzy. Could be the closing of the jury duty chapter in my life. Could be the impending IEP meeting. Could be the house-cleaning I attempted this weekend. Could be the feeling that winter will be ending soon and spring is coming. Could be the realization that my high school senior (pictured above enjoying the snow) is getting ready to graduate soon.

Operation Forced Independence was fairly successful this weekend. I seem to be the only one for whom this is a big deal. I hadn't even told Bill of my Big Plan, but when Henry asked for sausage for dinner Friday night, I proclaimed "you can learn to make it yourself!" Bill didn't miss a beat, but walked Henry through how to open up the package and put the sausage links in the microwave. Kinda makes me think Bill's been trying to do this for awhile.

Saturday Henry made himself some sausage again (the kid will eat pork sausage links for every meal) and some waffles in the toaster. He didn't eat the waffles, though. (I feel that way sometimes, that a meal just isn't as good if I have to make it myself.) He also spooned out some mixed fruit for himself (pictured above).

Sunday he asked for waffles and I told him to come in the kitchen and we'd make them together. At that he changed his mind and said he wanted cereal with milk. I made him help with that also, but I guess it's a little less involved. And he can still see the tv while pouring cereal and milk.

I have had him get out his own pajamas and put them on by himself every night, and attempted to show him how to run his own bath Sunday night. I made a better effort to have him clean up one thing before getting out another. This is a never-ending battle with a kid who likes to have 3 puzzles out at once and all the prints and books related to a certain move spread out around him at any given time.

He didn't really protest too much at any of this, and I think this will need to be a new state of mind for all of us.

One note I do need to make to Kyra and all you other brave homeschoolers: I don't think my son would respond to this direction as easily if his teachers hadn't already "broken him in" for me. He has learned a lot of "if/then" instruction from school, and a lot of "you can do it by yourself".

Heck, I would still be helping him go to the bathroom if he hadn't gone off to kindergarten and I realized that his teacher probably doesn't pull down his pants for him and put him on the toilet! I'm not kidding, that was a huge realization for me.

I am a big big believer in getting help and advice from as many good sources as I can (this blog being just one example of that.) I have learned so much from friends, family, teachers and childcare providers who have shared their wisdom and philosophies with me.

Given all this reliance on others to help me, I am simply awestruck by homeschooling moms. Of course I hope that you have a good support network of other adults and professionals just as I do. But your day-to-day contact with them has to be minimal when you're down in the trenches teaching an oppositional child how to read or write or add.

extremely low

As I mentioned, Henry's IEP (Individual Education Plan) annual review meeting is scheduled for next week. In our district (state? county? I don't know who makes these rules) he is due for re-evaluation every three years. In yesterday's mail we received a draft copy of the MFE (MultiFactored Evaluation) team report for our review before the meeting.

The report did not hold many surprises. Henry tested "average" overall for his reading and writing abilities, "well below average" for his math abilities.

It appears that the school psychologist's classroom observation was on a 5-star day, as no behavioral problems were noted. Henry was observed while doing a spelling activity in the regular 2nd-grade class, and versions of the word "appropriate" were used several times in the summary. (It should be noted that Henry's aide was with him the entire time, as she always is).

One amusing bit of the report was the description of the psychologist's "assessment and interview" of Henry. It was generally quite positive-sounding:

His vocabulary was well developed, he could name all the animals in a book he brought, spoke about his favorite video, Aristocats, and about his interest in Paris, France and indicated that he would like to visit the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame Cathedral. He was quite curious about pictures in my office and wanted to know about them. He was interested in football and follows the OSU and LSU, along with professional teams, and was knowledgeable about the teams and the results of the super bowl...

This description makes Henry sound like quite the little Renaissance man. Like you could chat with him all day long about wildlife, foreign cities, and sports. In reality, if you chatted with him all day, you would hear the same few facts about Paris and how he would like to go there. Yes, he can tell you who won the Super Bowl, because they discussed that in class and we discussed it at home. But I wouldn't say he follows professional football. Oh, well- I'd rather read a positive spin on my son than a negative one!

The report also noted he also said he had an ear infection for which he was on medication. This is completely untrue. I can only imagine that the psychologist asked Henry how he was feeling, or maybe noted that his nose was runny, asked him about it, and Henry responded that he had an ear infection!

The part of the report that really got me, though, was the summary of the Adaptive Behavior Assessment questionnaires. Henry's teacher and I each completed one. Our evaluations of Henry's behavior are in 2 comparative columns. In only 2 of the 9 categories were we in agreement.

In every other category Henry's teacher gave him a higher score than I did. My evaluation came out to "extremely low" in 7 of the 9 areas. Mrs. C's evaluation came out to "average" in 4 areas, "extremely low" in only 1.

My immediate thought upon seeing this was "what the hell is wrong with me? What kind of mother am I that I "rate" my son lower functioning than his teacher does? I should have more confidence in him."

But the more I thought back to the questions on this assessment, I came to a different realization. The questions (I'm sure many of you have seen them before) were like this:

My child cleans up after himself:
(choose one) never/almost never/sometimes/almost always/always

If Henry's experience and ability vary so greatly between home and school, it's because the expectation is different at school. In this example, he may very well clean up after himself almost always at school, and almost never at home. Because his teachers make him do it and I do not.

My son is 8.5 years old, and 90% of the time I dress him and bathe him. He has never answered the phone or prepared himself something to eat.

His little brother is more independent than he is. But his little brother WANTS to be- that's the difference. Thomas has long been interested in picking out his own clothes. Henry is not, so I pick them out for him.

I need to start making some changes- for Henry's own good. But it's not going to be easy. Not only will Henry fight me every step of the way, but many of our day-to-day activities are going to take twice as long. I may not be able to stick with it all the time, in every instance, but I need to start trying.

It looks like we'll be snowed in this weekend, so this is as good a time as any. I'll pick up a new stepstool and stock up on orange juice and milk (in case of spills) and maybe Henry will get his own breakfast tomorrow morning.

Wish me luck!

Henry update

This is quite a long video of Henry reading the concluding pages of The Lion King. The sound isn't great and of course we're still working on his pronunciation and enunciation, but I hope you'll catch the flavor of his story-telling ability. You may recognize the dramatic final battle between Simba and Scar/the hyenas. I did not prompt him to do this. I headed upstairs to have some homework time, and found him reading aloud to himself, with great flair.

Christine was correct in her recent comment- I have been kind of quiet lately. For one thing, I kind of lose perspective sometimes on what I want my blog to be. I want it to be more than just a “log” of what I did each weekend, for example. Or a big bitch session about things that are bugging me (like today our shower curtain rod broke. At least it was after my shower.) Add to that the fact that some things are not to be written in a public forum, and mix in a little of January-is-a-generally-gloomy-month, and you get, well, nothing written here.

One thing that I had wanted to blog about seems to have (knock on wood) resolved itself.

Henry's teacher (Mrs. C) and I had a phone conference two weeks ago (on the18th). At that point his behavior had badly deteriorated, and she was searching for what to try next. He was refusing to do any independent work at all, arguing with the teachers and, when they tried to ignore him, following them around shouting at them and/or randomly pushing or scratching other children in the class.

He was wasting so much time trying to argue about not hanging up his coat or doing his "independent work" (which is always an easy worksheet) that he was missing out on all his mainstream time with the other 2nd graders.
I also discovered that the time he had been spending with the regular class had not been as successful as we thought. Mrs. C had recently found out that the aide working with Henry had allowed him to just flip through the science book, for example, instead of following along with the science class that was being conducted. She was not challenging him at all.

Mrs. C wasn't wanting to be discouraging, but I think was more just trying to brainstorm with everyone involved to come up with a new strategy. I asked if she thought this was just transition trouble after the Christmas break. She dismissed that idea promptly: school had been back in session for 2 weeks. (But I know that Henry often starts back to school ok but then burns out after the first week or so.)

We were heading into the long MLK weekend- my kids were going to spend some time with Grandma and Grandpa and Henry's teacher was taking a little trip herself. She said she had some new books to read and was hoping to come up with some new ideas for working with Henry.
I felt pretty down after this conversation. I worried that his behavior would alienate him from the other children and prevent him from learning. I felt terrible knowing that my child was hurting other children. And I didn't know how I could help, aside from trying new medications or maybe taking Henry to a psychiatrist.
(After our parent-teacher conference in November, we began giving Henry a medication that our pediatrician had suggested. It has not helped at all, and we are weaning him off of it.)
I was pondering a lot of big questions, like what are my goals for my child? To be mainstreamed? To be able to work independently? To be challenged? To learn? To treat people with respect? All of these are potential goals, but some seemed to be mutually exclusive. It did not appear that he could be challenged to work independently and still behave productively at school.

For the past week, Henry has brought home glowing reports in his notebook. Mrs. C told me that she gave some thought to what I had told her about swimming lessons.

You see, Henry never argues with his swim instructor. He works so hard for her and never asks for help like he does in most other situations. I think this is because she is so no-nonsense. She is definitely not warm and fuzzy. But when she tells him to swim from one end of the pool to the other and then pull himself out with his scrawny little arms? He does it.

Mrs. C said she thought about that and realized that the swim instructor has created an environment where there is no room for negotiation. So when Mrs. C came back to school after that long weekend, she just told Henry here's how it's gonna be: you're going to do your work right now, and if you don't do it now I'm going to do it with you, hand-over-hand (which he hates). And after that, he was "the old Henry": smiling and happy and cooperative.

Some mornings he arrives at school and has maybe forgotten "the deal". So they sit down at "teacher table" and go over it again- you won't backtalk, you won't argue, you'll do the work. And then he's fine.

I know this sounds kind of hard-ass and cold-hearted. But Henry really seems to respond to it. Right now at least. We are all keeping our fingers crossed. It just seems to prove the old adage that kids need boundaries. And maybe the same way a good boss can't usually be your best friend, maybe a good teacher can't be the kids' best friend?

Mrs. C and I talked about having a reward system at home that corresponds to how his day is reported in the notebook. I proposed that he earns a star every time he has a good day, and then a certain # of stars earn him a new DVD or something. She suggested something even better- he can earn money according to how his day went, which will help reinforce the money concepts they are learning. She will report on his day using a 5-star grading system, and I will come up with the financial equivalent. That way, even if he has a rough day, he can still earn a small bit of money for his 2-star day.

Yesterday, the first day of the new system, was a 5-star day! Way to go Henry!
A certain 3-year-old someone has a birthday in February, and so does his daddy, so I should have some fun things to post about in the coming weeks.