From the Archives: Technology
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Sunday, 29 April 07 - 02:13 AM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in Technology |
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Photo credit: my first born
My people come from a long, proud tradition of absentminded muttering, so initially, I thought nothing of the rousing conversation Ben was having with himself the other morning while getting dressed. A lot of the time he will just make up stories as a way to transition to wakefulness and if I happen to comment on them he’ll look surprised, say, “Oh, I didn’t realize I was saying that out loud.”
This morning, though, there was something, an earnestness, in his tone that made me pay closer attention: “I like my school,” he was murmuring fervently. “I like my teachers. I like the other kids. But I don’t like fifth grade. Maybe I’ll get a stomach ache over breakfast and mom will keep me home today.”
Fifth grade is a tough year. Everything gets kicked up a notch: the long division gets longer, the multiplication becomes more complex, and in the great state of New York and in accordance with No Child Left Behind (which penalizes schools that don’t achieve satisfactory standardized test scores by withholding federal money that could be used to actually help teachers and improve student performance by--let’s just say--reducing class size and increasing teacher training...) there is a comprehensive state exam in social studies.
Now, in addition to transcribing Ben’s practice-DBQ (“document based question”) social studies essay responses, the husband or I have been walking Ben through his math homework every night because, frankly, the pace of new material has been brisk. Ben doesn’t know his multiplication tables that well...doesn’t even know his basic math facts in addition and subtraction without counting on his fingers. There has, though, been incredible progress in his understanding of what actually occurs during multiplication and division since last year because of time we spent working with manipulatives last summer. But even with “time and a half” for math tests, he is clearly not performing at grade level.
Which, actually, is fine with me. He is making progress. He is now capable of understanding what is taking place when these numbers and signs are put together on a page. The basic building blocks are there. The rest will come in time. The child has a LEARNING DISABILITY in math. This developmental difference is part of the nonverbal learning disability gig and is not going to just disappear--even with an aide for half of every day and extra help on Wednesday mornings--while he is a member of a 30 student (post-austerity budget vote) classroom.
Unfortunately, though, a general ed. public school education is not really set up to be so flexible and understanding...
“I’m just worried about his performance on the state tests,” is a comment that I’ve been hearing repeatedly since third grade. “Really? Because I’m actually a lit-tle more concerned with the fact that my child has regular nightmares about your classroom and is spending ten minutes at a time, a couple times an HOUR, washing his hands to get them clean,” is the response I have not YET given in return...because THAT might be indicative of a parent reluctant to cooperate with the system. The teachers, after all, have been apprised of Ben’s OCD behaviors, nod and tsk empathetically when I bring them up...
In a completely fair world, I would agree to refrain from bringing up statistics on depression, alcoholism, suicide, mental illness and imprisonment related to my son’s diagnosis and Mrs. Solipsistic would, in turn, agree never again to mention those flipping state exams in my presence...You, in short, take up your cross, I’ll take up mine.
But I digress. Technology.
So, to help reduce Ben’s stress, his nightmares, his handwashing:
The first thing we did was buy him a digital voice recorder (Sony, $37, K-mart). Ben used to spend all of his daily “free-reading time” copying down his homework from the board instead of reading books each morning. When I realized that this was going on, that my son was starting out each school day by spending twenty minutes copying his homework from the blackboard instead of reinforcing his newfound love of reading, I contacted his teacher.
“Shouldn’t we encourage the reading? Help him start the day on a positive footing?” I’d asked.
“Well, sure. But he does need to learn to copy and write faster, too. Maybe I’ll just have his aide write out the assignment and place it on his desk so that he can copy it,” his extremely lovely and I am not being sarcastic teacher suggested.
“Well, if she’s going to copy out the homework anyway, why does Ben need to recopy it when he could be spending his time reading and starting the day in a positive way?” I asked again.
“I’m really reluctant to do that,” the teacher had replied.
Right.
So we went out, bought the recorder and sent Ben into school with it. “Explain your reluctance to the kid with the voice recorder,” was my thought. He loves this recorder, is careful with it and hasn’t forgotten the books he needs for homework once since he started using it...
Next, we bought him a calculator ($6, solar-powered, CVS).
Since the husband or I sit with him during math homework anyway, we tell Ben when he can use it (“what problem are you going to solve with this?”) and when we think he can work out the problem on his own without it. The calculator has not only given him a feeling of power over this subject that he battles nightly, it has sped up the homework process exponentially (yes, I believe in the concept of homework, but I don’t believe that a fifth grader should spend more than 45 minutes a night total at its mercy).
I am going to suggest at next week’s parent/teacher conference that we convene officially to have calculator-use added to Ben’s IEP with the same strictures that we use here at home. He has a classroom aide that can perform the same function in school that my husband or I perform at home--that is, make sure that the calculator is a support, not a crutch so that Ben does not become overwhelmed emotionally by his math disability.
Finally, last night, I went out and purchased a memory card ($50, 40 minutes of filming, Best Buy) for our digital camera. Now, Ben can start filming his Lego movies in digital instead of analog and posting them to YouTube. They are funny, sweet creations--his movies. And something that he can be proud of. Something he does well--better than most kids his age. It is a chance to show off some of the gifts that come with his brand of brain.
... More items are available in my News Archive
