Spectrum of Possibilities

PDD is not a four-letter word.

Teachable Moment

		Thursday, 24 May 07 - 03:49 PM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in Parenting

Ben is sitting in the study, ostensibly working on thank you cards for the Wii he received for his birthday. He's also snuffling quietly.

We went down to Nashville last weekend, visited family, celebrated the high school graduation of a cousin/niece. "We" of course is a group defined as mom, dad, boys and favorite pelagic stuffed friends--Willy the orca, Hamtoro the hammerhead shark, and Phil the tiger shark. (Yes, we are singlehandedly keeping the Riverhead Aquarium afloat (pun intended) via gift shop purchases. And your point is???)

There were a great many people staying at the house--makeshift beds and air-mattresses everywhere upstairs. And, of course, part of the fun in a situation like this (did I mention that there was also a triple bunk bed) is to sleep in a different spot every night...

Well, all we know is that by Sunday we couldn't find the much-beloved Phil the tiger shark. We looked in every room, under every bed, in between every set of sheets and inside every duffle bag. No Phil.

Was foul play involved? Maybe. Ben is the youngest in his tier of cousins: the rest are tweens and teens who might have gotten tired of hearing about the ecological plight of our cartilaginous friends. I dunno what to think. They're good kids in this family...but they are still kids. Sigh. Phil was really well hidden, if that is the case...

Ben came up with the idea of making a poster of Phil using FD's Toys and emailing it to the family. If Phil did disappear under nefarious circumstances, maybe the poster and reward will warm a hardened heart enough to bring him back to us. (If not...I've got to get out to the aquarium within the next couple of days to buy a new Phil and dirty him up just a little without anyone else noticing.) Ben made the poster himself using the "motivator" tool at Fd's and we sat down together, his first real foray into email, with the family's addresses to send them off when he was done.

It kills me, though. I know Ben is eleven. HE believes that he is too big to cry over something like this...but every once in a while, the emotion just catches up with him and it's heartbreaking. He tries to be stoic ("No, I must have gotten something in my eye--I'll be better in a minute, don't worry" [he comes from a long, proud tradition of wussy liars]). It's that struggle with his sadness and my inability to help him feel better that are making me antsy.

I guess I should get a little used to that concept. He's growing up.

We learned today that Roman women were considered legally marriageable at age 12 (though most waited until the ripe age of 14)...Ben's almost there now. And, obviously, he will experience hurts worse than this where I will be even less able to intervene.

Hate that, though. Absolutely hate that.

Crying!!! There's No Crying in Baseball!

		Monday, 09 April 07 - 05:41 PM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in Parenting

The Mets had their first game today (and lost to the Braves--sorry, Chris
 and Doug...)

(Edit: I'm a spaz--read results for wrong year!)

...and James had his first baseball practice, ever, today.

Organized sports have long been on my list of things my children need to do...I've read the studies on rising childhood obesity.  I don't want to contribute to the next generation of mindless couch potatoes.  Gah!  How will I ever be able to watch all of those awesome reality shows on Bravo if my living room and sole television are perennially under the command of boys, anyway???

However: between the gross and fine motor deficits, the proprioceptive challenges and the emotional unwillingness to try new activities--particularly activities that will most likely involve getting pegged painfully with a speeding ball--it has been a challenge.  The only athletic activity James has EVER vocally shown an interest in is karate.  (Which, when timidly suggested at a recent appointment, immediately engendered uncontrollable eye-tics and facial spasming in his infectious disease doctor before the man, ever a professional, regained composure and calmly stated, "As his doctor, I would recommend an activity with a lower contact threshhold.")

This is the child who thinks he wants to be a professional NASCAR driver when he grows up.

Or a fireman.

"What do you think about a nice yoga class?" I perkily suggested recently.  "Well, nooooooo...no, you're right.  They don't use nunchucks in yoga.  Um--well, usually.  That doesn't necessarily mean it would be boring, though!!!"



There are a lot of metacognitive challenges involved in playing on a team and if my children are going to be at all successful (highly unlikely already because they've inherited my complete lack of athletic acumen...)

...They're going to need extra help.  Just getting James out the door today took work. 

The husband has promised to practice physical skills with the boys, and with the help of social stories, I'm going to start buildiing up the emotional wherewithal an athlete also requires.  Social stories are brief, personalized passages that the child reads and rereads to reinforce appropriate behavior and reinforce skillbuilding.  To most people they almost sound like a waste of time.  But for children with issues in metacognition and executive functioning, social stories model thought patterns and prioritizing skills.

Hopefully, James can ultimately begin working on these himself.  That would definitely
boost the metacognition skills.

Here's the one I wrote for James today

On Mondays I have baseball practice at 5:00.

I always make sure that I am home on these days by 4:30.  I get ready without Mom or Dad reminding me.  First I change into appropriate clothing--usually a t-shirt and sweatpants.  Then I put a snack, a water bottle and my glove and ball into my sports bag.  If it is chilly I will put on a sweatshirt.  I can always take it off during practice if I get too warm.

When I get to practice, the coach will be my boss.  I will do what he tells me to do.  I will work hard to become a better baseball player and a good sport.

Sometimes I will get frustrated.  It is hard to learn how to play a sport.  As I continue to practice and play, though, I will become a little better each day.     

When I feel overwhelmed, I'll ask my couch for a brief time out.  I'll work on calming down by taking deep breaths and walking out my frustration.  I will accept that all athletes sometime get upset.  However, I will try to calm down as quickly as possible because my coach and my team depend on me to try my best.

This is actually pretty long for a social story.  I'll see how it goes.  I may have to break it down into two shorter stories.  We're going to keep all of the social stories together in a notebook and I'm going to ask James to illustrate them as well.

The First Meeting of the Bad-Crazy Helicopter Parents is Now in Session: Will All Members Rise!

		Tuesday, 13 March 07 - 11:15 PM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in Parenting

I received a call today from the parents of another child in James' class.  This child--a little girl--has also been picked on mercilessly all year by the same boy who has been bullying James.  The school does not return this family's concerned phone calls, either, and the situation has also escalated recently with their child...

...And Dad is in the midst of six months of chemotherapy.  This has been unbearable for the family; they haven't known where to turn.

Dad, a court security guard, was going to look into what was required for an order of protection for his daughter while she was on school grounds.  He was disappointed to hear that I intended to homeschool from now on ("But I can't DO THAT!") but was glad, I think, to have a co-chair on the Bad-Crazy Parent Committee For Dysfunction Intolerance...

One of the worst nightmares I've ever had...years ago, when I first was married...

Was that I was a kid, again (ba-dum BUM!).  Back in the house that I grew up in.  With all of the same kids that I grew up with.  And we were playing hide and seek and Ring a Leavio and spud.  And then: the street light went on.  Before we all went inside to our separate houses, we counted ourselves, took role.  Because we knew that kids were starting to go missing, disappearing.  There was something that was coming and taking kids at night from their homes. 

Then when you'd go to call for the kid the next day, the parents would look at you, confused, and claim that the child you were looking for had never existed.  None of the parents would admit that anything was going on.  They thought that to identify what was actually happening would bring the monster to their house and their kids. 

So we kids were taking attendance, writing it down on paper, checking it each night to prove that there was a problem.  But even with the attendance sheets, the parents wouldn't admit there was a problem.  Told us we were making names up, just playing another silly game.  But we found one mom hiding behind the garage, crying, later.

And of course the nightmare ended with me hearing the monster on the stairs in my house, claws scratching on the wooden stairs as it ascended to my room.  The monster was in my house and my sisters were screaming, begging my parents to help me, to save me.  And my parents were kind of chiding my sisters that it was time to go to bed and telling them that they needed to stop making such a fuss...

   

School Wars--Chapter 2: In Which I Demand my Way or Take My Toys and Go Home...

		Tuesday, 13 March 07 - 02:06 PM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in Parenting

I received a call from the principal of the boys' school yesterday (Monday) at 4 in the afternoon.  The principal that I asked to return my call last Wednesday.  And then never heard from.  Despite alerting her to the fact that same children would not be returning to her care unless she called me to discuss my son's safety while on school grounds.

(Am I crazy?  Would not an immediate call [from the woman making a six-figure salary at taxpayer expense] explaining that she'd received my message and was looking into the matter have been appropriate in this situation?)

Mostly? She sounded confused.  She was sorry that "communication had so obviously broken down between us."  She was confused as to why I was also keeping Ben home from school.  If he, too, was having new social issues in school, she had not been apprised of them.  And finally, no, she could not, in so many words...guarantee...that James would never be attacked in school again...but the school psychologist had some ideas that we could try out.

Because, after all, the school psychologist "did have a working relationship already with both children involved."  Not that she meant to imply that James...yes...well...

My children have never been sent to the principal's office for bad behavior.  My children receive social skills training from the school psychologist at my behest because they have both had issues with bullying.  On school grounds.

...A paragraph I just wrote completely for MY OWN benefit.  So be it.  I am aware that bullying victim is a role--a role with characteristics, typology.  I am also aware that my children fulfill many of those characteristics due to deficits in their ability to comprehend social abstractions and complex social situations.  But I do not for one moment believe that my younger son has in some way been willingly complicit in his own systematic torture.




I returned the principal's call this morning.  I told her that I had listened to her message and then talked the issue over with my husband...

"Yes! Yes! Mmhmmm!"

And I explained that I was going to send the school a letter of intent so that I could begin homeschooling my children.  I told her that my understanding was that I had 14 days from the last day attended to make this desire known to the district and asked her who, specifically, I should send the letter to.

And then I said nothing to fill the space.

"Well, I have to admit I'm taken aback...when we worked together on site-based management (a team of parents and teachers that work to create programs to meet the needs of an individual school) together a couple of years ago you mentioned that you were working on your Master's in elementary and special ed...so I guess I feel a little better about your decision..."

More silence from me--a good trick, actually.  Wish it hadn't taken me the better part of 40 years to learn it:

When there is nothing more to say, say nothing.

Takin It To The Streets

		Saturday, 10 March 07 - 12:54 PM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in Parenting

or, alternatively: not everyone in this town has been replaced by a pod person... 

Yesterday (Friday) morning I again waited for the principal of my children's school to call me in reference to the two back-to-back physical attacks James experienced in school on Tuesday and Wednesday.  By 11 am I figured she'd had her chance to grab a cup of coffee and get through those last items lingering on her to-do list from two days prior.  I called the district's superintendant's office and began the process of taking this to the next level.

"This happened where?" the secretary that answered my call yelled out about 20 seconds into the call.

"School grounds," I assured her.

"And you've heard nothing?!?"

"Nothing."

First hurdle negotiated, I'm transferred to the secretary of the district person immediately under the superintendant.  I tell my story again.

"This happened where?" I'm immediately asked again.  Which I find encouraging.  People are finally beginning to react the way I would expect (ie: Dear God, could this be reasonable grounds for an actionable law suit???)


So here are some other things I've learned today:

• The principal (of two years now) at my children's school has a long-established record of not returning phone calls to parents with concerns and issues.
•  The child who has been physically attacking James has had problems with aggression since kindergarten.  He (according to another parent) picks a couple of children each year and tortures them.  There is a behavioral chart in the principal's office that monitors how often he attacks other kids.
• The child who has been attacking James has an older brother who was removed from the school because of repeated aggressive attacks on the other students.
• There is another parent in James' class who is currently pursuing the same issue with the principal.  He has also been stonewalled.

I sat down with James yesterday and told him that he would not be sent back to school until we had been guaranteed that he would never be bullied again.  His eyes filled up with tears and he just crumpled against me and told me, "that's why I don't like school anymore."

They Never Called...

		Friday, 09 March 07 - 01:45 AM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in Parenting

Or, alternatively:

the day that was...enough.

James has been physically attacked by another child in his class twice this week.  The child that has attacked him has been bullying him all year and has a long record of aggression.  He also went after James at the beginning of the year and started CHOKING HIM ON THE PLAYGROUND.  This week he choked James one day and then pushed him down and pinched him in the small of his back (leaving a bruise) the next.  Each time the school nurse has called me to let me know what has happened.  Nothing from the teacher and NOTHING FROM THE PRINCIPAL who has seen this perpetrating child after each of these events.

Immediately after Wednesdays 'pushing to the ground' episode (while I was still waiting for a call addressing the previous day's choking episode), I called the principal and asked that she call me back immediately.

NOTHING.  She never called me back.

This morning I called the principal's number, got her secretary, and explained that I will not be sending my children to school until I have a guarantee FROM THE SUPERINTENDANT that my children will be safe at this school.

NOTHING, again.  No phone calls.  NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!

Let us not go into how this is my child that I adore and would die for, a child that also has an autoimmune disorder that predisposes him to long bone breakage--what healthy seven year old goes around choking other children on a regular basis?  Where and under what conditions is he learning this behavior?  It is NOT a normal seven year old behavior.  Slapping, pushing, whining: those are typical seven year old behaviors when kids are at the edge of their patience.  Not choking.

Tomorrow, after breakfast, we're going to camp out at the Superintendant's office.  All day if we have to.  Enough.

Oh!  And Ben will be missing another day of testing for the 5th grade math test.  They're gonna love that.


And now: a brief but merry recap of my experiences with my school district:

Ben--1st Grade:

• We enter the school district two days before school begins.  I sign Ben up for school and schedule a special ed. school evaluation--our earliest opportunity to do so.  I also drop in to his teacher (who is prepping classroom) introduce myself, explain that I have some concerns about my son and that we have scheduled an eval.  As I later discover, this is her last year before retirement.  No kids of her own.  She looks at me and pats me on the arm and says sweetly, "Oh, you must be one of those working mothers."  Which, for the record and whatever that might mean, I am not.
  

• We have no diagnosis for Ben by the end of the year because the in-network neurologist hasn't heard of Asperger's in 2002.  There is an eight-month wait for the out-of-network pervasive development specialist (that we cannot afford but I put our name on the list anyway).

2nd Grade:

• 1st Grade teacher suggests that what Ben needs is not any type of therapy but STRUCTURE.  Which she explains to me quite pleasantly that he must not be getting at home.  Places him in the classroom of a very rigid teacher I only later find out has such a bad reputation within the community that the only children who wind up in her class are children whose parents DO NOT write in to request their child get any other teacher but. 
  
• This teacher sits me down at a meeting and tells me that I am obviously making up things about my son to get attention (I have asked her to break down tasks that Ben has difficulty with into more manageable subtasks) and that she will not do ONE EXTRA BIT OF WORK for him until his diagnosis comes through.  Oh, for the record?  She doesn't have any kids of her own, either.
  
• Also: the school district "loses" Ben's paperwork and claims that he must be re-tested before he can begin to receive OT services (which he'd only started at the end of first grade, along with speech).  I send letters to everyone I can think of.  No one ever calls me.  Principal.  Superintendant.  Nobody.
• At the same time, the school district is sending notice to James' preschool, claiming that the private preschool that James is attending (at taxpayer expense) for early intervention hasn't completed an IEP for James.  Since the district has no IEP, they are no longer going to pay their share of the preschool expenses. 
  
• The preschool assures me personally that multiple IEPs have been sent out and that they are having problems with "lost paperwork" for all of the kids from our school district.  James' preschool teacher, with 22 years of experience, tells me: There is something REALLY WRONG with the way your district is behaving.
• OT comes back for Ben.  And, bonus!  The OT was so mad about the "lost paperwork" debacle that she goes ahead and puts Ben in for a PT eval.  When the results come back they say that Ben's gross motor coordination is at a two year old's level, his fine motor at a four year old's.  He is seven at this point.
• Ben receives the Multiple Complex Developmental Disorder diagnosis.  Technically not an "official" diagnosis, it is still being defined.  Prognosis, however, is terrifying.  Oh, and much of the literature specifically states that the mothers of these children tend to be nuts.  Well, psychotic.
  
• At this point I go on antidepressants.  I am so chronically anxious that I have lost my ability to read and am covered in severe eczema.  Both new experiences for me.  Look at me!  In fulfillment of the prophecies!!!  I've gone nuts.
  
• At the end of the year, when we transition James out of preschool special ed and into elementary special ed, he has the cadillac of treatment packages.  I haven't even asked for the behavior interventionist or the social skills classes with the school psychologist, but there they are.  I'm just grateful that everyone seems to be getting what they need.  I don't pursue any of the confusion further.
• At one point in the spring Ben walks down the block to visit a boy in his class for a play date.  A neighbor I have never met, the school crossing guard, calls the police and tells them that "an autistic boy is walking in the neighborhood alone."  Let me emphasize: never. met. the. woman.  She has since apologized and is relatively nice.

Third grade for Ben:

• Nice, nice teacher and nice but misguided resource room teacher.  By mid-year it is clear that while 8 different people are providing services to Ben, nobody is ever talking to anyone else.  Also?  When we sit down for his IEP meeting in February, the school psychologist--who is chairing Ben's meeting and seeing him for social skills classes--admits that her recommendations are all wrong because she didn't realize he had any diagnosis.  She says this while holding his folder...which is at least 4 inches thick. 
  
• James has a FANTASTIC kindergarten year.  Our district later rejects its budget twice, we go on austerity.  This is one of the first teachers to be let go.

Fourth Grade for Ben:

• Everyone is in agreement that a resource room teacher is not enough for Ben.  He finally receives the 1 on 1 para I'd wanted the year before.  For half of each day.  Not a teacher, simply a mom in the district.  However, since I think that Ben's biggest issue is attention and that he just requires redirection and help with organization, I figure this is fine.
• This year I'm not going to make the same mistake I've made in the past!  This year I'm going to step forward, hand outstretched and immediately connect with the teacher.  Get those paths of communication open from the get-go.  I request a meeting with Ben's teacher.  He tells me that if I'd shown up to "meet the teacher night" I would know what day was the appropriate one to get together.  I apologize, explain I'd had school that evening but that my husband had been at the event.  Explain that I will get together whenever it is convenient.  I am told Friday would be good.
• I show up Friday morning and am immediately YELLED AT by this man.  I never confirmed.  He HAS HEARD ABOUT ME (from Ben's second grade teacher) and is keeping records of all of our emails and our meetings!
• I am terrified of the man and stay as clear of him as I can for the rest of the year.  Ben has a great year academically and socially.
• James is moved into the inclusion classroom.  Only does low-average work.  Despite this, the behavior interventionist, occupational therapist and speech therapist are removed (new special ed chairwoman tells me, "I don't understand how he ever got okayed for a behavioral interventionist in the first place--we only get those for kids with autistic spectrum disorders"), and he is placed in a general ed. class this year with one period of resource room a day.  Organizational and social challenges ensue...I've been told I'm babying him.
  

Television: The Epic Battle

		Friday, 02 March 07 - 03:03 AM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in Parenting

For three years we have had the same rule in this house: no television or video games until homework is done.  The rule used to encompass computer time as well but Ben really does enjoy a little down time with his flickr page when he first gets home and he has been so stressed this year that I've bent that rule a little bit...

The idea here was that the darling progeny would have choices within limits and that they would feel provisionally empowered..."yes, I have to do my homework but I can choose when I do it.  If I need some down time when I get home from school, that's fine.  But ultimately I'm going to want to get to the homework.  Otherwise I might miss the 47th showing of that Jimmy Neutron movie I already know all of the dialog to."

(This strategy, of course, completely ignores the larger question of whether or not a child should have television access every day.  We will ignore you and your pesky American Pediatric Association-type questions for the moment, however, and get back to the story at hand...)

As I said.  For three years this has been the rule of the house.  And for three years, as soon as my darling James has walked through the door--before he even has had time to summarily dump his coat and backpack in the center of the living room carpet and be reminded that that is not where they belong--he has asked, "Can I watch television now?"

Three years.  No lie.  Clearly obstinacy is yet another winner in our genetic bag of tricks.  Three years of 'but why' and 'you know: I don't remember ever agreeing to this rule' and 'it's not fair' and 'but yesterday while you were out DAD let me watch television' (because what child isn't above the occasional 'divide and conquer' attempt, however short-sighted and ill-conceived?).

Today, however, he walked in and asked if he and the boy across the street, Danzel, could play Legos together.  No mention of the television.  No appeals to a higher court of justice.  Boys.  Toys.  Request.

"Sure," I replied.  And then I realized what he'd said.  I practically wanted to force-feed them oreos and chocolate milk on the good couch as a reward.  But I kept my cool.  Just said, "Sure."

(...And anyway, I would never use sweets as a reward for doing something you're supposed to be doing anyway.

Toys, maybe.  But not sweets.)

A Day in the Life

		Tuesday, 27 February 07 - 06:50 PM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in Parenting

The hat was part of BBoy's Civil War Biography Fair costume. Not that we found any pictures of Robert E. Lee in a hat like this. We took some creative license...

 

The Murky World of PG-13

		Saturday, 10 February 07 - 02:15 PM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in Parenting

Last week, as a reward for their hard work and patience while making "Scout Wars"--a movie we've been working on in preparation of the Blue and Gold Dinner tonight--my fellow Webelo leader and I took our scouts out to a real movie.  The Scout Wars movie (coming soon to YouTube!) was kind of a swan song activity for most of the boys...I think that Ben is the only one in the group interested in bridging over to Boy Scouts...and now that we'd all achieved the Arrow of Light and the eight bazillion pins and belt loops that entails, the remainder of the year was going to be fun-focused: Wii-centric. Social...

Initially, the plan had been to do a little sound editing and then go see Night at the Museum.  But one of the group had already seen the movie and two others wanted to see something "not so baby-ish."

This is where we made our tragic mistake.  We allowed a 13 year-old and three 11 year-olds to dictate the movie choice for the group.  You would have thought we'd know better...but they're cub scouts.  Our babies...

We wound up seeing Epic Movie.  All of us except child of mine, Ben, who told me that it was "not an appropriate choice because it was rated PG-13."  (How bad could it be, right?  Probably a little potty humor, I'd thought.  It looked pretty harmless.)

"Are you sure you don't want to come with the rest of the group?" I'd asked.  (What am I, insane?)  "I feel like, since I'm one of their leaders, that I have to go."  The other boys all were heck-bent this is what they wanted to see and child of mine was so disgusted with the apparent dearth of moral integrity ("We're eleven, mom, ELEVEN!!!  I don't know what they're thinking!!!") that he just wanted to go home. 

"If they're going to see a PG-13 movie, no thanks!" my stoic boy replied.  When there is a principle at stake, the child practically vibrates with resoluteness.

I sighed, not sure how to play this one...

As it turned out, the movie was horrible.  Tasteless.  Crude and obvious.  And I didn't know what to do once I'd ascertained this:  Should I make a big scene and force everyone to leave in the middle?  I was acting in loco parentis for these boys, a fact that I took seriously. Or should we wait it out and talk about appropriateness and standards with the boys on the car ride home.  However inappropriate the movie was, the content wasn't any more lewd than what your average middle-school student would see or hear any day on the school bus or in the cafeteria (a fact that goes a long way towards succinctly  summing  up it's  utter lack of charm...)

My co-leader and I ultimately chose the latter option.  We also each went sheepfaced into the boys' parents while we were dropping them off and explained what had happened.  To the last, the parents wound up comforting us...

But next time?  A quick visit to www.kids-in-mind.com/ (as mentioned in Boing Boing this week) would probably be the way to go.  Their reviews are spot on.  All of the movies in their data bank are rated from 1-10  in three separate categories: sex/nudity, violence/gore and profanity:

"We enable adults to determine whether a movie is appropriate for them or their children, according to their own criteria. Unlike the MPAA we do not assign an inscrutable rating based on age, but 3 objective ratings for SEX/NUDITY, VIOLENCE/GORE & PROFANITY on a scale of 0 to 10. We also explain in detail why a film rates high or low in a specific category, and we include instances of SUBSTANCE USE, a list of DISCUSSION TOPICS that may elicit questions from kids and MESSAGES the film conveys..."

I went through the review for Epic Movie and it listed every moment I found cringe-worthy (including Jennifer Coolidge's egregious use of the F-word--a moment that had me gasping like an asthmatic old lady).

And for the record, when I got home, I told my son he'd absolutely made the right choice and that I wished that I'd been able to stand up for my beliefs as competently as he'd stood up for his.

"Well, duh!" was his first  reply.  But a couple minutes later he came over and patted me on the back and told me not to worry.  That everyone made mistakes.

Harsh

		Saturday, 20 January 07 - 10:39 AM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in Parenting

    Boy the younger toddled down the stairs this morning and came over to give me a sleepy kiss before making a beeline for the television set...
    "I'm going to say that today I don't want the television on until after lunch," I told him quietly.
    3....2....1....
   "WHUT!" he exclaimed, sleepy no more.  "But...but...WHUT!?!"

    He stomped up the stairs to report this latest despotic ruling to the rest of the proletariat population, ending with, "Man!  She can be harsh sometimes!"
    "I don't know," Ben told him, dutifully towing the party line.  "It sounds like a good idea to me.  It will mix up the day for us a little bit."


    I got a call from James' resource room teacher the other day--a wonderful woman about my age with two sons of her own.  She is equal parts empathetic cheerleader and no-nonsense educator when she works with James.  By an incredible bit of scheduling luck, she is able to work with him one-on-one for an hour a day three days out of the five he sees her.  This is a fantastic thing.  Two years ago our district voted down its budget and class size shot up from twenty kids per class to almost thirty.  This kind of individualized attention is almost unheard of now.  And...she gets my son.  The strengths, the weaknesses. When the strategic nudge into uncomfortable territories will pay off and when it is absolutely futile.
    "He's not concentrating as well as he was at the beginning of the year and I was just checking in to hear about what you were seeing at home."
    We talked for the better part of twenty minutes.  This teacher has also worked in the past with Ben, tutoring him in math and proctoring his tests (since he gets double time for tests, he usually takes them in the resource room, away from the rest of the class).   She is, in short, aware of the needs and abilities of both boys and couches her suggestions accordingly.
    "Yeah," I told her, "we've been photocopying James' math homework from a friend a couple of times a week lately because he seems to forget to bring it home on a regular basis.  I finally  had to create a consequence for that: no screens on nights where he forgets to bring home all of the materials he needs to complete his homework..."
    She asked about our evening routine, too. 
    "It's hard some nights," I explained.  "Ben needs so much help to get his homework done.  So even though James could use the extra time, too, he doesn't always get it because he doesn't need it as badly as his brother does."

    When Ben was born, I promised myself that I would carefully monitor television viewing--that I would create a house where books and play would come before passive past-times.  And I accomplished what I'd set out to do.  Even though Ben had a reading disability, phobias, hyperactivity and a sleep disorder I kept television watching to a minimum.  I spent hours at night reading to him, playing with him, talking to him. 
    But each time James became ill or had to go into the hospital,  the rules of the house were eroded just a little bit more.  For a while our family was simply in survival mode.  Two children with complex learning needs--one of whom also possessed a multi-system autoimmune disorder while the other suffered from severe emotional complications...combined with a move into an old house that needed a large investment of work and time in a neighborhood where we initially knew no one...

    So, bit by bit, we're scrambling back towards the home that I had always intended to establish.  The systems are falling into place.  My boys have friends that drop by.  They have the space and organization to access their toys, and, just as important, the systems in place to clean up after themselves.  They have the maturity to self-entertain, the ability to read independently, the necessary understanding of abstractions required to enjoy playing with toys.  These things that I just assumed would occur naturally all wound up requiring work.  Multiple steps.  Time.
    So it's time to reign in the television again.  Time to...get harsh.  Nudge that growing independence in a dozen ways.  A lot of children with learning disabilities have a hard time playing.  It doesn't come innately to them, isn't intrinsically motivating.  They have to be taught to play the same way that they have to be taught to read and calculate sums...
    That's where we are right now. 

    

   

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