Tag Archives: autism spectrum

The Final Day With Soma and A Word About Methodologies

Yesterday was the last day of Soma Mukhopadhyay‘s 4-day training.  I wrote about it ‘here‘, ‘here‘, and ‘here‘.  Soma packs an enormous amount of information into four days.  She discussed everything from neural pathways of the brain to which parts of the brain are used during specific activities, to how to devise lesson plans and ways to physically position oneself in relation to the student.  There were so many surprising moments, but one that I never could have anticipated, was how helpful it was to learn about the actual brain function during moments that are emotionally charged or OCD.  Learning some of the basics in brain function demystified a great many things in a way I hadn’t before considered.

Given what we now know, and granted it isn’t much comparatively speaking, but is so much more than we knew even twenty years ago, it is astonishing that certain older therapies continue to be popular and used for autism.  Two of the most destructive phrases used with an Autistic person are the dreaded, “Look at me!” and “Use your words!” I cannot list how many times Emma has been instructed to “use your words” only to do so and be ignored.  It seems those who say “use your words” really mean, “use the words I want to hear”.   Add to that the insistence that an Autistic student have “quiet hands” and not stim because it is believed learning cannot take place while stimming even though by removing the stim no learning can or will take place because we’ve just taken away the one thing that was allowing the student to stay focused and attend, even if it did not “look” that way to us.  We non Autistics have a tough time understanding anything or anyone who is vaguely different from ourselves.  Before we start calling ourselves “experts” in Autism, we might want to become “experts” in our own neurology first, at least we’d have a better handle on our own limitations and see how those can so easily dovetail into how we are interpreting what we’ve decided is “the truth” about someone else.

I have written about methodologies before on this blog.  There are some that I find more troubling than others, but in the end, the thing I care about more than anything else is: is it helping my child?  Is she learning?  Is she safe?  Will the short-term gains be at the cost of long-term pain and even trauma?  What is this doing to her self-esteem?  Is respectful interaction being modeled?  Is she being humiliated, shamed, made to feel badly for the way her brain processes information?  Is she being taught by people who believe in her ability to learn?  Are her teachers believing her capable and giving her the tools she needs to flourish and be all that she can be?  Is she assumed to be competent or is she being forced to prove her competence?  Is she being taught the same equation, story, concept and terms over and over?  Is she seen as a human being with the same rights as any other person?  Would YOU want to be treated the way you are treating and teaching this person?

I don’t care what the methodology is, who created it or how many people believe in its efficacy, if it isn’t taking these questions into account, I am not interested in it.  I do not care what others believe, I don’t care what the “experts” say, I don’t care how many letters a person has after their name or who created the methodology or the various papers and/or books the person has written, if the methodology is not attempting to consider these other ideas, I am not interested in it.  I, as a parent,  am not invested in any particular methodology unlike so many schools.  And for that reason I have far more leeway than most schools do, to keep trying different things until we (I’m including my wonderful husband) find the thing or a combination of things that will best help our daughter learn, grow and become all that she can be.  In the end that is what we care about more than anything.

This weekend I will create a lesson plan for my daughter with age appropriate materials for next week’s  RPM session.  I am hoping I will be able to demonstrate, at least some of what I’ve learned, to Emma’s therapist and her teacher.    But I also know I will make mistakes, I do not expect that after four days of an intensive training I will do Soma’s method well, but I think I have a fairly good understanding of the basics so that I can start, at least, trying.

Wish me luck!

Soma Mukhopadhyay – March, 2013

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“Presume Competence” – What Does That Mean Exactly?

When my daughter was first diagnosed at the age of two and a half, presuming competence was not a concept I was ever told about or had heard of.  And even if someone had suggested we do so, I’m not sure I would have fully understood what that meant exactly.  So what does “presume competence” really mean?  And how and why should we carry out a presumption of competence?

In an interview, Douglas Biklen explained:  “Assume that a child has intellectual ability, provide opportunities to be exposed to learning, assume the child wants to learn and assert him or herself in the world.”

A key component to presuming competence is to become aware of the prejudice that currently exists regarding autism and how these ingrained beliefs harm not just our children, but ALL Autistic people.   Like any prejudice, based on layers and layers of misinformation, misperceptions, and misunderstandings, we must be willing to acknowledge our own “beliefs” before we can begin to deconstruct them.

When my daughter was little with almost no language I could not understand how it was possible for her to learn to read and write if she did not speak first.  I was surprised and confused when I learned how completely wrong I was.  When I read about all the non-speaking Autistic people who had learned to read and write despite being given no formal instruction, it seemed magical to me.  This mind that seemed, from my limited perspective, to not understand so much, actually was taking in far more than I could imagine, let alone believe.  It wasn’t until I was able to see my own limitations caused by the things I had been told about autism and hence, my daughter, that I was able to move beyond that thinking and embrace another way of thinking.  I had to acknowledge my misperceptions and the misinformation I was given, then I had to question everything I thought I knew and was being told.  I had to seek out Autistic people who were kind enough to share their own experiences before I was finally able to dispense with my erroneous ideas and move beyond them.  In case anyone’s missing it, there is a certain irony in my early assumptions regarding Autistic competence.

At the Institute on Communication and Inclusion conference, which we’ve just returned from, and I began writing about in yesterday’s post, Tracy Thresher typed, “… couldn’t let anyone know I could read and I understood what was said to me the training gave me the way to communicate with others.”  On the Wretches and Jabberers website, Tracy wrote, “My communication is paramount to my well-being and is key to my being an active citizen.”  He goes on to say, “I may appear to be a man shrouded by a cloak of incompetence but if you will take the time to listen to my typing you will understand I am intelligent.”

What I have come to understand, is that a presumption of competence is much more than a set of beliefs, it is a way of interacting with another human being who is seen as a true equal and as having the same basic human rights as I have.

A presumption of competence may seem like a leap for many non Autistic people,  it may even feel like a disconnect.  Some may argue that their non-speaking child cannot possibly understand, that they know this beyond any doubt and I must ask, but how can you know this for sure?  We may tell ourselves that our child is too “severe” and we are setting them up for certain failure by presuming competence.  To these people I would suggest the opposite is true.  The only true failure is when we walk away and assume incompetence.

Presume competence means – assume your child is aware and able to understand even though they may not show this to you in a way that you are able to recognize or understand.

To presume competence means to assume your child or the other person does and can understand when they are being spoken of and to.

Presume competence means talk to your child or the other person as you would a same age non-Autistic child or person.

Read and have available age appropriate stories and give access and instruction to age appropriate learning material.

Presumptions of competence means treating the other person with respect and as an equal without pity or infantilization.

It does not mean that we will carry expectations that if not met will cause us to admonish, scold or assume the person is being manipulative or just needs to “try harder”.

To presume competence does not mean we assume there is a “neurotypical” person “trapped” or “imprisoned” under an Autistic “shell”.

Presuming competence is not an act of kindness.

Presuming competence is not something we do because we are a “good” person.

We do not get to pat ourselves on the back because we have presumed competence.  If we believe we deserve a pat on the back and/or acknowledgement, then we are not presuming competence, we are more likely being condescending.

One last thought regarding presuming competence…   to presume incompetence is to actively do damage.  Let’s all agree not to do harm to our fellow human beings.

“Autistic People Should…”

Today is “Autistic People Should…” flash blog day!  Please take the time to read these terrific posts by Autistic people who are blogging in to change the current views by non-autistic people of what Autistic people should or should not do or be.  Autistic people are taking these three words today and making them their own.

The Autistic People Should… Flash Blog

To give all of you an idea of what comes up if one types “Autistic people should” into a google search box at the moment ~

Yeah.

This has to change.  WE can change this, all of us, together, by spreading the word, sharing the flash blog link, tweeting the posts.  Let’s help change the way we think about autism and Autistic people.  We ALL benefit when we work toward ending oppression and respecting every person’s right to exist.

The Tug of The Unknown

Ever since Em was first diagnosed I have looked to others to tell me what was best for her.  I have read countless opinions.  I have read hundreds of articles written by self-appointed Autism experts, educators and therapists.  I have listened to organizations, I have consulted doctors, neurologists and developmental pediatricians.  Emma has had quantitative EEGs, hearing tests, vision tests, colonoscopies, endoscopies, x-rays, and more hospital visits than any child her age should have to endure.  She has been prodded, poked, examined, questioned and discussed.  She has had more “professionals” come and go in her short life than I have in my entire 52 years.

A year ago I began meeting Autistic adults and what they were saying and describing first hand wasn’t what all those experts, doctors, educators and therapists had been telling me.  In fact what Autistics were telling me was often in direct opposition to what all those other people said.  The more I listened to what Autistics said and how they experienced their childhoods and life now as adults, the more I saw how wrong most of the professionals were.  It’s not that any of the Autistic people tried to predict what my daughter would be like as an adult, or that I came away believing I’d just met an older version of my daughter, but I’ve gained a clearer picture of autism and I am not as afraid as I once was.  As a side note, I have yet to meet a single Autistic adult who has assured me my daughter would be just like them, quite the opposite in fact.  Each and every person I’ve personally been in contact with has made a point of saying they are not representative of any Autistic child.

When I went to the Autcom Conference in Maryland last fall I met a great many older Autistic adults.  People who are in their 40’s and 50’s, some had been institutionalized, others lived in group homes, some lived with their aging parents, others lived independently, but all were Autistic and while it was surprising to meet so many (the hidden Autistic adults that our society knows almost nothing about)  it was a relief too because the fear I had and to a lesser degree still have about autism falls away the more time I spend with those who are Autistic.

My fear is about the unknown.  My greatest fears are those I create in my mind.  I have to remind myself of this on an almost daily basis.  I have tremendous fear.  I have always been fearful.  Long before I had children or got married I have lived with fear.  Fear of failure, fear of success, fear of relationships, fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, fear of being hurt, fear of hurting others, fear of saying the wrong thing, fear of life, fear of being.  You name it and I can figure out a way to fear it.  I have mornings when I wake up and feel fear like a second skin shrouding my body and mind.  There are days I cannot shake it.  There are days when the best I can do is get up and just put one foot in front of the other.  There are days when I cannot even acknowledge how scared I am.  A good day is when I keep doing the next thing that needs to get done and not say or do anything hurtful to anyone who crosses my path.  Those are the days when the image of myself is that of being covered in a thick cloak.  I keep my head down, keep to myself and do my best to not cause others pain.

Then there are the days when even that is too challenging a task.  Anger is almost always the result of tremendous, debilitating fear.  This is just one reason why I so vehemently object to the way in which autism is depicted in the general population.  Just about everything that is currently written by non-Autistic people regarding autism is fear based and increases fear.  And where there is fear, anger is not far behind.  Fear and anger cause many to behave in ways they wouldn’t, were they not feeling terrified and/or enraged.  Fight or flight.  I do both, sometimes within minutes of each other.  Neither is particularly helpful.

I know I still have a tendency to look to the “next thing” that will help my daughter.  I know this is what I have a tendency to do.  I am trying to trust myself and her more.  I am trying to remember that I don’t always know what will help and, as it turns out, neither does anyone else, but I can make sensible, informed decisions.  I am trying to accept that no one can predict with absolute knowledge what will occur in the future.  I am trying to parent my children with respect for who they are, what their interests are and not what they may or may not become.  I am doing my best to be present, to enjoy the moments of joy.    When I go off into future, fearful thinking, I try to gently pull myself back to the present without admonishment and judgment, but rather lovingly and with kindness for my own faltering, uneven progress.

Em – 2002

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The Signs of Neurotypical Spectrum Disorder – A Parody

*This is a parody

The following “red flags” may indicate your child is in danger of having Neurotypical Spectrum Disorder (NSD).  If your child displays any of the following, take them immediately to an allistic or non- neurotypical pediatrician or family doctor for evaluation.  Caught early enough many children have shown dramatic improvement.  Studies show that intensive early behavioral interventions can and do help these children flourish giving them the opportunity to become honest, creative, non compliant thinkers who will not be overly concerned with amassing wealth by any means necessary or driven by self-serving desires and wants.

  • Emoting and peculiar noises when confronted with adults who make ridiculous faces and sounds at them by six months
  • Excessive self involvement by nine months
  • Excessive “babbling” seemingly to gain attention  by 12 months
  • Pronounced back and forth gestures such as pointing at random objects, reaching, and waving at anyone who smiles by 12 months
  • Difficulty occupying themselves, requires others to “entertain” them almost constantly
  • Tremendous number of words, particularly farm animals, the noises those animals make, peculiar songs about spiders crawling up drain pipes, and the various ways in which a bus and it’s parts work by 18 months
  • An abundance of ego based two-word phrases such as “I want”, “I need”, “I go” or phrases using “me” by 24 months
  • Peculiar and inappropriate play with representational objects, such as pretending to feed a plastic doll air, or make the doll “drink” from miniature tea cups by 36 month
  • Fascination with fairy tales about people falling into endless stupor, only to be woken by a complete stranger’s kiss or meeting someone on a horse and riding off with them, without getting to know them first
  • Overly concerned with what others think otherwise known as having a “herd mentality”
  • Overly compliant and especially eager to please any adult, even if the adult is a complete stranger
  • Rote and often dishonest answers to questions such as “how are you?”
  • Generalized dishonesty often used to get one’s way by 36 months
  • Inability to remove emotion from disagreements
  • Uses language to deceive by 50 months
  • Mob mentality – tendency to become influenced by those they believe to be in power by 50 months
  • “Group think” does not question, but follows what is considered to be the majority thinking
  • Making fun of, laughing at or showing fear toward any who appear different than themselves (this can include those with a different neurology, skin color or even nationality
  • Difficultly staying present.  Constantly thinking about the future or past.
  • Easily “bored”

It is imperative that you seek help for your child if you suspect they are at risk.  Though Neurotypical Spectrum Disorder can be mildly to severely disabling, NT Speaks has numerous resources for families whose children may be suffering and afflicted.  You will be relieved to know NT Speaks employs not a single neurotypical and no Neurotypicals are on their advisory boards.  In fact we do not consult, listen to, or speak with any who are on the neurotypical spectrum as we have learned they have a tendency to be dishonest, will do anything to be “liked” and are almost always self-serving.  We are a non-profit whose goal is to cure neurotypicals.  All our research dollars go toward funding pre-natal testing and cures for this terrible crisis our world is currently facing.  Do not let your child become a burden on an already beleaguered society.   Let us help you.  Call us at 999-9999-9999 (en Espanol 999-9999-9990) or email saveusfromtheapocolypse@neurotypicalspeaks.org

*This post is a parody.  However the wording is almost identical to the wording used by many organizations that claim to want to “help” those who are Autistic.   

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“The Signs Of Autism”

When my daughter was diagnosed I heard all the autism statistics.  I read a great deal and I learned a lot.  But what I learned was not so much about autism as it was about non-Autistic perceptions of autism and what that meant to those who are not Autistic.  Non Autistic people tend to view autism with tremendous fear.  There’s so much we don’t know.   Non Autistic parents are left trying to sift through the opposing opinions about a child they may have a difficult time understanding.  Most parents deeply love their children and want what they believe is best for their child.  So when they see literature describing the “signs of autism” it looks scary.  The various “signs of Autism” do not bring them any closer to understanding their child, rather they serve as a critique.  Right away parents are shown how to view their child as less than, as not good enough, as “wrong”.

From the Mayo Clinic the first sentence under the heading “Symptoms” reads, “Children with autism generally have problems in three crucial areas of development – social interaction, language and behavior.”

If I had read this sentence upon receiving my daughter’s diagnosis I would have thought, okay, so how do we fix these problems, because  problems are to be fixed, right?   And though I did not read this exact sentence in 2004 when my daughter was diagnosed, I read a great many just like it.  I never once thought about the sentence and who was writing it.  I never once questioned it’s validity or examined the words being used.  It never occurred to me to read this sentence with skepticism and doubt.  It didn’t occur to me to wonder how my two-year old daughter might feel growing up in a society that believes the ways in which she interacts, speaks and behaves are viewed as problematic.  But I think about all of this now.  Not because my daughter is reading a sentence like this or because we are discussing things of this nature, but because I see everything regarding autism and those who are Autistic differently.  I am hyper aware of the judgmental and critical tone in almost everything to do with autism because I now know a great many people who are Autistic and they explain it to me.  I now know how offensive this language is and I understand why.

So let me ask all of you who are not Autistic this – how would you feel if you were described from the moment you were born as problematic?  How would you feel if you were taken from one doctor to the next, examined and criticized?  How would it affect you if you were told, “Stop looking at me when I speak to you!”  And then when you found that impossible, the person physically reached down and turned your head away so that you could not make eye contact.   How would you feel if you were paying attention and suddenly two hands grabbed your wrists and shook them so that  your hands flapped rapidly on either side of your face.  When you tried to pull away, you were told, “Move your hands!”  How would you feel if you were happily playing with your dolls and your parent demanded, “What are doing? Why are you making them interact that way?  Why are you trying to feed it?   You understand this is a piece of plastic and not real, don’t you?”

The point I’m trying to make, (probably poorly) is that almost all the literature about Autism is written by NON Autistic people and negatively compares Autism to a different neurology.  Is it any wonder parents feel so confused?  How is this thinking helping our kids?  How is it helping parents?

Presents

An Interview With an Autistic Teacher Who Teaches Autistic Students

What follows is my interview with a teacher.  A teacher who teaches Autistic students.  A teacher who is Autistic.  

When were you diagnosed with Autism?

 I self-diagnosed as having NLD (Nonverbal Learning Disability) (which I mistakenly thought was mutually exclusive to Autism – a good reason to get a professional diagnosis, not a web diagnosis) in college, which brought me a lot of peace of mind and self-understanding. (And helped me make peace with a lot of my past.)  I was in my 30s when I finally made the decision to get the formal diagnosis. (I was both right and wrong: I do have NLD, but I’m also on the Autism Spectrum.)

I got the diagnosis because I was having a lot of trouble communicating effectively at work, and I was getting written up for it.  My supervisors were trying to work with me, but I was afraid I was going to lose my job.  It wasn’t the first job I’ve had that happen at.  The problems my coworkers were going to administration about were hauntingly familiar: my voice tone, my inability to read others voice tone, my quick answers that don’t make sense and sound frustrated.  It was a pattern I’d seen before and had never had any success stopping or changing.  I knew I needed help if I wanted to save this job.

Why do you prefer remaining anonymous?

 For now, at least, I want to maintain control over disclosure.  Also, privacy.  The web is public and it stays there forever.  I’m not comfortable with anything about me, disability related or not, being out there like that.  I don’t have anything meaningful out on the web under my real name, and I’ll keep it that way, thanks.

How did you get into teaching?

 I think it’s in my blood.  My dad is a teacher.  I remember being in first grade, when everyone wants to be police officers and firemen: I wanted to be a special education teacher.  I got a BA in Psychology and spent 5 years doing direct care before moving to work in the schools.  I worked as a paraprofessional while I got my M.Ed.  I’m certified in intensive special needs and deaf/blind education.

Would you talk about your childhood and how autism affected it?

 I did the stereotypical “little professor” thing.  My mom says my favorite word as a kid was “actually.” I had friends growing up, and if my parents thought my relationships with them were a little off, I never noticed.  I had no other standard of relations, and I was happy with what I had.  My mom tried vainly to model more appropriate social interactions (my poor mother) but it all went right over my head (I do not learn from environmental cues or social models.)

Middle and high school were rough.  I was the victim of significant bullying. Kids are mean.  I considered changing schools (I went to public school) but decided against it.  Instead, I dove into my interests: computers, foreign languages, band, technical theater. Bullying happens during the unstructured times of the school day.  I was never unstructured, participating in more classes and extracurriculars than there were hours in the day. (I seriously could have used Hermione’s time turner back then….) Not only did it give me structure and purpose, but it successfully buffered me from my would-be tormentors.

Are you concerned that if the school where you work knew you were Autistic your job would be in jeopardy?

 I’d be worried about an employer learning that I was Autistic before I had a chance to prove myself as a teacher, yes.  The concerns about my communication problems at this job came in the context of “we love your passion, but…” I had already proven myself, multiple times over, as a good teacher getting excellent results with students who are considered difficult.  Afterward, I could see I had to re-prove myself because the words of my NT (neurotypical) paraprofessionals (sometimes not just in the area of classroom communication) carried more weight than mine did.  I have reason to believe we’ve gotten past that now, but it lingers in the back of my mind.  I know I have to work harder and sometimes that makes me mad.  Luckily, I have an administration and paraprofessionals who support me in the work I do and who respect that I am approaching it from an Autistic perspective (even if they don’t always understand that perspective.)  I haven’t always been that lucky, and I am continuously grateful for it.

You say, “with the right accommodations..” can you give an example of a couple that are helpful?

 Using written communication when possible.  This frees me up to only address questions that need to be addressed, which is means I am more likely to be clearer because I can devote the needed resources to perspective taking and processing time.  Regular meetings.  I don’t pick up on things incidentally unless I’m working hard to pay attention to everything that is going on.  That’s impossible when your class is spread between multiple locations.  Regular meetings give me a chance to make sure we’re all on the same page at the end of every day and put out any fires before they get out of hand.  However, the effectiveness of these meetings is predicated on….

Direct communication from staff. This is quite possibly the hardest accommodation to get and the most important.  I ask everyone I work with to be direct with me and everyone says they will. But saying and doing are not the same thing.  Most NTs find being as direct as I need them to be as impossible as I find reading their non-verbal language.  It’s a real communication gap.  I’m incredibly fortunate that I have a para that can bridge the gap.  Some of my new paras are starting to learn as well, and I’m starting to learn to read their individual cues.  Translation is never as good as reading the original, but we get by.

Having communication support people I can turn to.  I have 2 coworkers I can trust to run things by when I’m concerned about how I’m coming across or not sure if I missed a cue from someone else.  This doesn’t help, of course, when I’m oblivious to the fact that there was something I should be concerned about in the first place, but it reduces the pool of potential landmines, at least.  Also, these are people who can listen for what I’m not hearing on the rumour mill (because I’ll never hear it) and potentially warn me of landmines I’m not aware of.  They’ve definitely saved me from several potential disasters already this year.

What are the most common misperceptions you face in trying to teach this population?

Top five misconceptions held by administrators, paraprofessionals, parents, and community members that make my job harder:

  1. That my students cannot possibly be capable of having control over (or a meaningful say in) what will happen with their lives.
  2. That the fact that most of my students may never be fully independent (living alone, working full-time) means that we should not bother teaching them community living and vocational skills.
  3. That my students are unpredictable or dangerous.
  4. That a student who may exhibit challenging behavior in the school environment shouldn’t be allowed in the community because he might exhibit the same challenging behavior.  (This one really makes me angry, because it doesn’t teach the kid anything useful. Give me appropriate staffing to handle the behavior; don’t penalize the kid.)
  5. That my students should be pitied.

Have you been surprised by any child’s ability?

 Have I have taught a student who had more skills than their assessments claimed? Absolutely.  Have I ever had a student make more progress in a year than I anticipated and had to amend the IEP part way through? I love it when that happens!  Have I ever taught a student who may not have a lot of skills that can be formally assessed, but who enriched my classroom in so many other ways?  All the time.  I don’t like the word “surprised” – it’s an autism thing, I guess.

How do you deal with self-injurious behavior?

 Behavior does not occur in a vacuum and all behavior is communication.  SIB (self-injurious behavior) usually has a sensory component, but a FBA (functional behavior assessment) will give clearer answers.  We need to look at the environment, the student’s communication strategies, and antecedents and consequences.  What is the cause of the stress?  How can we teach the student to deal with it more effectively?  Generally, positive behavior supports are most effective, but they have to be individualized in order to be effective.  What is reinforcing to one student may be aversive to another.  Behavior does not occur in a vacuum, and we cannot try to treat it in one.

Can you describe some of your own sensory issues and how they impact your life and work?

 I only recently really mastered reliable daily living skill routines.  Showering was a difficult sensory experience for me for years.  I still have trouble with toothbrushing and flossing, but I’m working on it.  I eat pretty bland foods (though, due to food allergies, my diet is both more varied and more monotonous than average) because I don’t care much for significant smells or tastes.  I’ve gotten more tolerant of different clothing textures than I was when I was younger.  I still freak out at certain textures, but my repertoire has expanded significantly from the “cotton/poly blend only” I wore when I was younger.

At work, I’m in control over the visual environment, since I’m the classroom teacher.  So I keep it pretty visually quiet, both for my own sake and that of my students.  Any conversations go out of the room, which really helps all of us focus.  My para knows to ignore when I’m self-talking, which is my primary self-calming strategy (I try to take that out of the room too, when I can.)  I stim when I need to.  So do my students. I don’t see that (the stimming) as particularly impacting our work.  I bring figits or sit on the floor during meetings (I sit in the back so it’s not disruptive.)

In previous years, when I was trying to pass and having more communication problems, I needed more sensory breaks and did a lot more self-talk (which in turn cased more communication problems.)  Now that I’m not trying to pass, I’m more comfortable and less stressed, which means I’m generally more sensory regulated – and if I’m not, dealing with it is no big deal.

Are there specific things you suggest schools can do to help their students?

 I think a lot of schools do the first half of this puzzle really well.  They have proactive sensory programs: do this activity after this interval for this amount of time.  And they have reactive programs: if you see this behavior, offer these choices for this amount of time.  The good ones have a mixture of the two.  Where the programs tend to miss the mark is in taking it to the next level: teaching the student to recognize when their sensory system is starting to become disregulated and what to do about it.  There are some good programs out there for teaching this skill: The Alert Program(TM) is probably the most popular.  I’m a fan, personally, of the Incredible 5-Point Scale, because the students can apply it to more than just their sensory system and because it has a more flexible metaphor (colors, numbers, can use pictures) and it ties into emotional regulation and understanding.

What is your opinion regarding stimming?

 I stim. My students stim. I won’t stop a student from stimming. My para (the only NT  in the room, poor guy) frequently points out that everyone stims, it’s just that society has declared NT stims socially acceptable and autistic stims unacceptable.  That said, there are also students who demonstrate self-stimulatory behaviors that are not self-calming but rather a precursor to or the beginnings of further stressed or out of control behavior. It is extremely important to know your student and to know the difference between these two types of behaviors. In one situation, the student is using their own coping strategies to de-stress, and in the other the student is indicating the beginning of losing control, and the environment or stressors needs to be addressed to prevent further escalation.

Have you ever witnessed treatment of a student that you objected?

 I’d love to say “no,” but yes, I have. Most of the time it’s things like not giving enough wait time and over-prompting. I get incredibly frustrated by the way that students who are not socially engaging, especially if they have challenging behaviors, tend to get left out in favor of the “easier” kids. But also, yes, I’ve seen what you’re really asking about. I’ve seen students physically moved or restrained when they shouldn’t have been.  I’m trained in the use of physical restraint, and yes, I’ve had to use it. Do I like it? No. Is it ever my preference to use it? No. Will I use it as a last resort to keep students safe? Absolutely. And I would 100x prefer to be called in and asked to do so then to have people who are untrained and don’t know what they are doing try to make do.  That way only leads to injury, trauma, and possibly death.  And I’m not afraid to call it like I see it.  I’ve reported coworkers to administration and when needed I’ve filed 51a reports (reports of abuse or neglect.) There are certain benefits to having an overarching sense of right and fair and not feeling bound by social conventions, at least where the students rights and safety are concerned.

Is there any methodology that you prefer and why is that?

The short answer to this question is no.  I am very wary of any program that says that a particular methodology is right for all students with diagnosis x.  I don’t believe that to be true.  The role of the teacher is to be familiar with the breadth of instructional tools that are out there and to find (or adapt) the right tool for the individual student to learn the specific skill.  For one student, that might be Discrete Trial Training to learn to attend to directions given in ASL.  For another student, that may be a phonics curriculum to learn to read.  A third student might be learning vocabulary in the natural context of a community work placement.  The one thing that all of these methods have in common is data.  I need reliable data taken daily on student achievement to know if the methodology is effective and the student is making progress, or if the instructional method needs to be changed.  There is no right or wrong method; I don’t even believe there is a best method. The question is whether the method being used is effectively teaching the student the desired skill, and there is only one way to answer that question: data.

Are there any methodologies that you believe are harmful?

Aversives, repeated use of any form of punishment (including time outs,) restraint used as a programming tool as opposed to an emergency procedure. If you’re doing it on a regular basis, something is wrong.

How do you work with a curriculum given your student’s disparate needs?

 The short answer is good staffing ratios and competent paras.  Also, using the principles of Universal Design for Learning.  By differentiating how I engage each student, and with paraprofessional support for behavior and data-taking, I can have three students engaged in a group setting.  I can have a fourth student, with additional paraprofessional support, engaging in the same material with us and connecting to the group as able. If you’re counting, that’s 3 staff and 4 students.  I’ve just described to you what my classroom looks like most days.

In an ideal world where Autism carried no stigma and you were able to be open about being Autistic, are there specific things that would allow you to do your job better?

 I would like to be able to work with my students on understanding Autistic culture and the Autism community.  My school does very well teaching our Deaf students about Deaf Culture and their Deaf identity.  I believe we could do the same for the Autistic students.  I would like to make that happen, and I know that no one else will lead it, but it would require being open about being Autistic and I’m not ready for that yet.  I trust my administration and those I’ve told, but I am not comfortable working with the rest of my co-workers as an Autistic person, which I’d need to do in order to make that happen for these students.  It’s something I want to do, but not yet.  One day, I hope.

What do you advise people who are thinking about entering the field of special education?  Is there anything you wish you’d known when you were just starting out?

 Work with kids with disabilities before you go into the schools.  Work at multiple schools (or with kids from multiple programs) before you start teaching.  One of the downsides to being in the schools, especially since most teachers work as paraprofessionals while they get their degree, is that you work with one student, or one group of students, for years.  There is frequently only one or two special education classrooms in the building, so there aren’t a lot of models to observe.  I have had too many experiences of people singing the praises of teachers I know to be mediocre at best, because they have no standard to compare them to.  See as many different students and teachers as you can before you settle on a specific subset of the population, a school, and a classroom where you want to work.  Most importantly, spend time working with typically developing children.  You’ll need that reference to fall back on so you can recognize what’s typical age-appropriate nonsense and what is actually behavior that needs to be addressed.  We tend to acquire tunnel vision in special education; make sure you don’t put the blinders on until you have to.

What do you advise parents look for of non-speaking children seeking a good school?

 Without knowing the specific student or her goals, it is impossible for me to say what program is best.  I can tell you what I look for in a school where I would consider working.  The one thing that sends up red flags and makes me stay far away is a school that believes there is one right method to teach all students.  Simply put, there isn’t.  Beyond that, I look for evidence that the people there know how to use picture supports and both high and low tech communication supports, not just for schedules but integrated into everyday activity: academics, leisure/social time, specials, lunch, etc.  For an older student, I look for evidence of functional skills and community based learning, not just using pictures to represent and role-play functional community activities, but actually getting out into the school and local community and learning the skills in the real environment.

If you could create a “dream school” what would it be like?

My dream school would have the physical environment, educational methodologies, peers, and teachers and paras with appropriate training and ratios to give each student access to both the general educational curriculum and any related services she needs to be successful as an adult: whatever that looks like for each individual student.  My dream school is not one school, but a range of options for every student so that the right option is always available.  That option would naturally change over time as the child grows and her needs change, and no one would question the need for that change.

Have you had parents or other staff question the competence of a child in your class?

 I had a former administrator tell me a student didn’t matter because his family would take care of him after graduation and to focus all my attention and resources on another student who, she said, actually had a chance of being fully independent. I basically ignored her. They are now both working in the community with support.

 Have you had a parent question their child’s competence?

 Not directly, but I certainly have known parents who have underestimated their child’s academic or independence skills.

 How have you dealt with that?

 I don’t judge, because I can’t.  I don’t walk in their shoes.  I only see their child at school.  I only know what their child does in one environment and I understand well that students will present differently in different environments. I will encourage bridging to home; I will provide support; I will provide information and data. But I will not judge, because I do not, I cannot, really know.

Try to Imagine

Imagine… Imagine that from the moment you were born every aspect of your being was evaluated and studied with a critical eye.  Imagine that who you were, the way you spoke, moved and behaved was seen as deficient.  Imagine that from an early age you were talked about as though you didn’t understand and even if you did not fully understand everything said, you understood the emotions behind the words, the disappointment, the fear, the anger, but you had no idea why you had caused such a response.  Imagine how that would make you feel.  Now imagine how you would feel if you understood every single word uttered, but you could not speak or make it known to others that you understood.  Imagine how you’d feel if you grew up believing your very existence caused others discomfort, pain and suffering.

Imagine that as a small child you were assaulted by light, sound, touch, odors, taste, things that did not cause others pain, but that made your life almost unbearable.   Imagine that you also felt people’s energy intensely but were often confused and overwhelmed by these feelings.  Imagine that when you cried in distress you were greeted with anger, confusion or were told nothing was wrong and to stop behaving this way.  Imagine how you would feel when you finally located the correct words and spoke them, people misunderstood you, became angry with you or you were told the tone you used was “wrong”, inappropriate or the volume with which you spoke was too loud or too soft.  Imagine trying as hard as you could to speak as you’d been instructed, but no matter how much you tried, you never seemed able to get it “right”.  Imagine what that would be like.

Try to imagine how you’d feel if you mustered up the courage to connect with another human being only to be shunned, teased or rejected and told to go away.  Imagine what it would be like to want to have friends and play dates and sleepovers but you had none.  What if you tried to make friends, but when you tried to connect you weren’t able to and didn’t know why.  What if your attempts to be friendly were seen as acts of hostility.  What if you punched someone on the shoulder because you’d seen friends do that to each other, but when you did it you were taken to the principal’s office, reprimanded and threatened with expulsion.  How would that make you feel?

Try to imagine what it would be like if the few things that brought you joy were stopped or taken away from you.  Imagine if you loved nothing more than to jump up and down, that this motion made you happy and calm, but when you did this you were punished.   Just imagine what it would be like if the things you found fascinating were ridiculed and joked about.  Now imagine that you are unable to make words form in your mouth so that you could say anything to explain or protest.  Or imagine what it would be like if you were able to speak and when you did, you were told your words were unacceptable.  You were threatened with punishment and institutionalization.  Take a moment to really imagine how that would feel.  Imagine what it is like to need help, to have to rely on people and to have those people hurt you, betray you, get angry with you over and over again.

Just imagine how it would feel if experts talked about your neurology as a deficit.  Imagine how it would feel to be told over and over that you were neurologically incapable of understanding what another person feels, and that you couldn’t truly understanding your fellow human beings.  When you suggested you felt a great deal, when you talked about how painful it was to look directly into people’s eyes because it was like seeing into their souls, or when people went to hug you it made your skin crawl or the odor emanating from the other person was too overwhelming, imagine what it would feel like to have people suggest you should just try harder or that you should do it anyway.  Imagine just for a moment how you’d feel if those same people then accused you of being difficult and told you it was impossible to have a “rational” conversation with you or you were told you were rude when you confronted them with their insensitivity.  Imagine what it would be like to be dismissed and silenced over and over again.  Just try to imagine what that must be like.

Try.

Try to imagine what it might be like to be Autistic.

Musings on Fear, Dehumanization and Other Light Topics Worthy of A Friday Morning…

I have always had an irrational fear of institutionalization.  Irrational because I have no “diagnosis” or valid reason that would make such a fear reality unless you count being high-strung, emotional and I’ve been told over the years, “too sensitive” but I don’t think people are ever actually institutionalized for that… or are they?

Maybe it was the stories I was told as a child about a couple of my relatives, now dead, who were institutionalized against their will by family members intent on getting them out of the way, or perhaps it was from all those months my father spent in the hospital clawing his way back to the living after a horse back riding accident that left him disabled for the remainder of his life, or maybe it was the books I read and was drawn to as a teenager.  Books detailing (supposedly) real lives lived such as Dibs in Search of Self, Sybil, The Three Faces Of Eve and Go Ask Alice.

Whatever the reason, I had and have a terror of being “put away”, locked up somewhere.  This fear includes hospitals, group homes, prison, any place that removes my ability to walk away when I choose, and places my care in the hands of others.  As a quick example of how much this fear permeates my life, I gave birth to both my children naturally and in birthing centers, not because I have an aversion to drugs, (I had a lively and deep attraction to drugs of all kinds during my teens and early twenties – I do NOT recommend this) or because I’m a granola-eating, Birkenstocks wearing vegan. (I’m not.  Not that there’s anything wrong with anyone who might fit that description.)   No, I gave birth naturally and in birthing centers because my fear of hospitals aka institutions is so great I begin to feel real panic even writing about it.

When I had to have a partial hysterectomy last winter I informed my surgeon I wished to be the first one in and assured him I would be going home that evening.  When he suggested I might want to stay overnight at the hospital, that even in the best of circumstances I would probably NOT be released to go home, I became so agitated and visibly upset he relented and said he would do all he could to get me home that night.  And sure enough, despite being so out of it I could barely put two words together, let alone a whole cohesive sentence and had a head the size of a watermelon from having been hung upside down for more than five hours, I managed to get myself upright.  My husband, using all his strength half carried, half dragged my useless, morphine infused body out of the hospital and into the relative safety of a taxi driven by a kind, middle eastern gentleman whose upper head was encased in white cloth aka a turban, that reminded me of medical bandages.  In my drugged state I kept imagining I saw blood pooling on the white cloth and had to open a window so as not to hyperventilate and throw up.  As the taxi careened along the streets of Manhattan, I allowed my body to slump against my poor, patient husband who was busy distracting himself with the latest New York Times Crossword puzzle.  Even so, all of this was well worth the effort as I made it home and into our bed by 10:00PM that night.  Panic attack thereby averted. *Whew*

When my daughter was diagnosed with autism, my fear of  institutions was the one fear, outstripped by any other, that brought me to my knees.  For years it was this vision, that horrifying gothic institution, dark and forbidding that I became convinced would be the inevitable conclusion of not my life, but hers once my husband and I died.  It was this looming image in my mind that made me hurl myself headlong into various remedies and treatments.  For years I felt sure that anything we could do to save her from such a bleak future was surely a worthy goal.  It just never occurred to me that what I thought was inevitable was not. And this is where I thank my Autistic friends for courageously sharing their stories with the world.  Because of them, their lives, their stories, I no longer believe this is my daughter’s inevitable future.

Judy Endow is a writer, a consultant, a mom, who conducts workshops on Autism related issues.  Judy is Autistic and spent several years in an institution as a teenager.  In her terrific book, Paper Words she discusses how she perceives the world by the movement and sounds of colors and writes,  “… please entertain the notion that a person who has an internally wired neurology to enable this, though a bit different from most, may not be any less intelligent, or indeed any less of a human being, than the typically wired folks, who are clearly in “The Majority” in the world-people world that we all inhabit.

As I read Judy’s powerful book I reflected on the nature of institutions, disability, aging and difference and how we humans tend to dehumanize those we believe to be weaker than ourselves, whether physically or mentally or both.   Until we can begin to embrace that which we do not understand or have experienced we cannot really know the harm we do, intentionally or not to those who must rely on others for understanding, accommodation and help.  Most of us, at some point in our life, will be dependent on another human being to have, at least some of, our needs met.  Let’s all hope we are fortunate enough to have someone who understands theirs is not a position of power, but a gift each of us can give to another, until it is our turn to receive it.

Em’s Self-Portrait – January, 2013

Self-Portrait

Group Dynamics – This Was NOT the Post I Intended to Write…

I don’t like groups.  I never have.  There’s something about group dynamics that I find more than a little frightening.  Too often groups develop an entity all their own and while it may beautifully reflect many individuals within the group, it never reflects all.  The loudest voices are often perceived as having the “best” or the “right” ideas and others who are not as loud or are just in the minority fall into line or if they don’t, are seen as threatening renegades and nonconformists.  Aspie Kid wrote an incredible post last week about something related to this, The Power of Suggestion on his terrific blog Aspie Kid: Perspectives From the Autism Spectrum.  While his post is not about group dynamics per se, it is about how easy it is to convince people of things when they perceive the source to be trustworthy or “in the know”.

Studies have been done regarding the power of suggestion and how groups can influence individuals to do and think just about anything.  Below is the famous Asch Experiment done in the 1950s; it is truly incredible, as well as troubling.  It’s important to note, this experiment has been done repeatedly, but always with neurotypicals.  I would be interested to see the results if it were done with Autistics.

More recently Kazuo Mori and Miho Arai redid the Asch Experiment but had each participant wear glasses that showed them the same image, yet each saw different things, thereby making them believe the answer they were giving was correct, unlike the original experiment where all but one participant was told to choose the same answer regardless of what they actually believed.  They also used both men and women and found that the results when using women replicated Asch’s, but did not with the men.  (That women were more likely to cave and agree with the group or majority view despite what they “knew” to be true is a whole other post!)  You can read more about that experiment ‘here‘.  Further studies showed that when the participants were acquainted with one another they were even more likely to go along with the majority than when they were strangers to each other.

Seventh grade:  I was the new girl at a new school with new kids and teachers in a new home.  I was extremely unhappy and had been for many years, though I had little self-awareness.  It was just before Easter.  There were only a few months left before summer vacation, but I couldn’t imagine how I would get through the year.  In my desire to “fit in” I told a great many lies.  I had been doing this for years.  The lies were so easy and seductive.  Words that were understood by the other kids in this small junior high school to have been fabricated.  I was shunned and ate my lunch alone by the chain link fence bordering the oval track where I excelled at running the mile, mostly because almost no one else was willing to run the mile, they were much happier running the 50 yard dash.  I found a shred of solace in running, and eating my lunch alone next to the oval track made me feel safe.  I cannot remember much of that year except that despite this I was surprised to be invited to a slumber party by one of the “in” girls.  Everyone was friendly at first and I let my guard down.  Without even meaning to I told more lies, all the while ignoring the tug in my stomach that I shouldn’t.  Lies were so comforting to me.  I preferred the lies to the truth, because I could no longer sort out what the “truth” was.   

The following morning all the girls gathered in a group and told me they wanted to talk to me.  I knew what was coming.  I froze and sat staring out the large window of the large house nestled on a hill.  I heard their voices, angry, accusatory, hurt, but it was just noise swirling around me as I gazed out that window at the fog as it slowly, slowly receded over those Northern California foothills, burnt away by the morning sun.  Each girl repeated a lie I’d told.  Each girl repeated the things I said, often behind the other’s back in my attempt to be liked, to fit in, to be like one of them.   My mind went numb.  I left my body.  Much later, I do not know how much actual time had passed as time stopped, my mother came to pick me up.  “How was the slumber party?” my mother asked.

“Fine,” I answered as the car sped away from those girls who I was clearly not like toward our home where I would at last be safe. 

In the refuge of my room later that day I felt something click deep inside.  I understood that I would never be safe.  There was nothing and nowhere I could go.  That day was the beginning of a long, painful slide into self-injury, bulimia, anorexia and addiction to quell the beast within.  There is nothing like addiction to shut the world out.  Addiction is the ultimate “lie”.  It is a living lie and betrayal of self.  I didn’t have the means to see that my actions had brought me hardship.  I did not understand yet that there was another way of being.  I didn’t have the necessary tools to guide me because I had long ago forfeited my self, there was no me to find or return to.  There was no “I”.  Addiction helped me forget the truth.

It is impossible to live in this world and not be part of a group. (Unless you are a hermit.)  We humans tend to crave companionship, whatever our neurology.  Yet we have a terrible time actually getting along peacefully with one another.  It took me thirty years to figure out a way to be with myself that I didn’t hate.  Slowly as I practice honesty, being kind and of service to others I was able to very slowly, very tentatively become a part of.  Groups can be wonderful.  Together we can accomplish and do what no individual can. I am a part of a number of groups that I have come to rely on.  But when groups become hotbeds of strife and gossip, where people forget that the groups principles are more important than any one individual’s grievance,  I know I must leave them.   I spent far too many years betraying my “self”.  I know how this ends.  And it isn’t pretty.

The Freedom Tower, taken this morning.   It represents the full scale of what we humans are capable of – to destroy or create… it’s up to each of us to decide.

Freedom Tower

Living in the Grey

No, this post has nothing to do with porn, soft, hard or anything in between.  In fact, this post is not about sex at all.   There will not be any numbers or shades or subtle, implied meanings of anything remotely titillating.  For those who were hoping otherwise, best to move along…

However, I do have a confession to make.  I tend toward extreme thinking.  An example, if someone cuts me off while I’m waiting for the subway, grabbing the one remaining, unoccupied seat, forcing me to stand, I can get into some pretty abysmal thinking.  I am likely to assume the day is cursed, as I engage in heinous thinking about the person who “stole” MY seat, to apocalyptic views about the nature of human beings.  I know this about myself.  I know I have a difficult time living in the soft, greyness of life, while rejecting the glaring, yet far more exciting black and white tragedy or ecstasy of my circumstances.

For years I felt mildly victimized by Em’s diagnosis.  I felt no one really understood or could possibly understand and any who suggested otherwise offended me.  Then I found Autistic adults who were not living the tragedy I had assumed was my daughter’s inevitable future.  In fact, these adults were interesting, smart, some spoke, some did not, others spoke on occasion, some communicated through typing, others communicated through typing with a facilitator, some had careers, others didn’t, some were in relationships, others weren’t, some had children, others did not.  Some have become friends, one in particular has become a close friend, someone I seek out, think about, want to spend time with, look forward to talking to and miss when our schedules do not allow us to connect.  In knowing her I’ve been able to dispense with the “victimized” mindset.  She’s helped me enormously, not just in giving me a better, more tempered view of autism and breaking down some of the more harmful stereotypes and beliefs I once held about autism and Autistic people, but in what it means to be human.

I have gone from feeling a low-grade sense of sorrow for my circumstances to feeling fortunate and grateful for my life and family.  I don’t mean that everything is perfection and that we never encounter moments of sadness or unhappiness, I just mean that I no longer pin my dark moods and feelings on “autism”.  In fact, I feel ridiculously fortunate.  I have met more fascinating people in the past year than I ever imagined possible.  I no longer wonder what life would be like had I not had an autistic child.  I am grateful for the life I have.  I am grateful for both my children and I’m grateful for my friendships.  I find I am living more and more often in that comfortable grey area of non-extremes.  (Please feel free to remind me of this post when I write something less “evolved”.)

And that woman on the subway, who for the past four years has shot in front of me to grab the only remaining unoccupied seat on more mornings than I can count?  I wish her well.  I even gave up my seat, so she could sit this morning AND I didn’t feel smug or resentful; I just kept reading my email.  Who knows?  Tomorrow I may even muster up the courage to smile at her.  Because you know what?  Life is just too damn short.  Besides I’m growing fond of the grey.

Christmas Eve Dinner – 2012

Impatience and Expectations

I’m impatient.  I know this about myself.  Impatience serves me to do a great many things.  It propels me to take action rather than not.  It makes me push harder, try harder.  My impatience, which usually begins with tremendous optimism can descend rapidly into disappointment and discouragement.  Fortunately I am also fiercely determined and dogged in my reluctance to give up which helps mitigate some of my impatience or maybe it just makes me confused. 😕

However, there are a great many things that are not helped by impatience, things like learning a language, learning to type or learning almost any new skill.  These are things that take time, practice and patience.  So I have to recognize this and continue despite my impatience.  This comes up over and over as I work with my daughter.  But in working with her, I’ve also come to recognize something else and that is my expectations.  Huge expectations, coupled with impatience can do harm.  I see that.  I’ve been very aware of how it affects me, but how does it affect Em?

I am learning how to support Em in her communication.  For example we will read a story together, such as a book Emma chose recently entitled, Who Pooped in the Park?  The story details a family outing where the two kids are upset when they don’t see a great many wild animals on their hike, but learn to identify what animals live in the area by the markings they leave.  During our session together I asked Em, “What were some of the animals the family identified?  One animal starts with the letter b.”  Emma then typed, “There was a bear and ciyoty and a deer.”   Other than misspelling coyote, this was a terrific answer and correct.  We went on to discuss another name for animal poop, which is scat and that all living things produce “waste” of some kind.  After our session was over, Richard asked, “So how did it go?”

“It was fine,” I answered.

“It sounded great!” Richard said with enthusiasm.

“Yeah, I guess,” I replied.  And then I had a tiny flicker of realization.  I was feeling disappointed in our session.  I was hoping for some brilliant, philosophical insight.  I was hoping that we would have a conversation that blew my mind and when I realized that, I also realized that my desire, my expectations, my impatience had caused me to not fully take in how terrific our session had been.  It also made me see how my response may have felt to Emma.  Here she was working hard, doing something that does not come easily and doing it really, really well, yet I had not responded with the kind of unbridled enthusiasm I would have hoped for had our roles been reversed.

During our next session we talked about her birthday, which she is very excited about, and the party and various events we’ve planned for her.  I tried hard to be aware of my response to what she was typing.  I became increasingly aware of my expectations as they arose and did my best to silently acknowledge them before responding with genuine enthusiasm and appreciation for Em’s work.  As a result our session was more fun for both of us.  Later when I spoke to a friend about all of this he pointed out that most communication is not wildly brilliant, philosophical or even necessarily enlightening.  And of course, he’s right.  The majority of our communication with one another is about pretty basic stuff.  Learning how to communicate basic things is relevant and important.  But my impatience and expectations make me forget that.

I have learned over the years that if I want to change a behavior I need to have awareness that I’m doing whatever it is, I then need to have some degree of acceptance that I’m doing it before I can begin to make little changes to it.  Those little changes repeated and added up can, over time, create bigger changes.  Admitting aloud I am doing whatever it is can be very helpful as well.  Without taking these steps however, I have no hope of changing the way I do something.

There’s a great deal of talk about autism and how our children and autistic adults need to work on a whole range of things, but there isn’t a great deal of conversation in the general population about our own neurological deficiencies.  It seems to me that if we are going to continue to have this ongoing discussion of deficits, it’s only fair that we begin to detail our own as well.  Now that’s a conversation I look forward to having.  And while we’re at it, let’s include the positive aspects of Autistic neurology as well, because a little balance is a good thing!

Sled

The Impact of Fearing Autism

Last night I spoke with my brother by phone.  He is unable to travel.  His voice was so raspy, his breathing slow and labored, had I not known it was my brother I was speaking to, I would not have been able to guess from the sound of his voice.  He wasn’t able to complete a sentence without pausing to take a breath.  It was clear listening to him that the act of talking was incredibly difficult and painful.  When we said good-bye to each other I was overcome with emotion.

My brother is very slowly recovering from pertussis, more familiarly known as whooping-cough.  Because so many parents have chosen not to vaccinate their children for fear that vaccinations cause autism, whooping-cough is on the rise.  I’m including some links ‘here‘ and ‘here‘, for those of you who may not be aware of just how serious and deadly whooping-cough is, not just to our children, but to teenagers and adults too.  This is the other side of not vaccinating, the side so many do not consider.  People of all ages are getting sick and even dying of diseases most of us assumed had been eradicated long ago.  Whooping cough, once unheard of, is now on the rise.  In my brother’s case, his coughing was so extreme he would vomit, was unable to breathe and speaking became impossible.  Fortunately he is slowly getting better, but whooping-cough can take more than three months to recover from, for those lucky enough to recover at all.

My children are vaccinated.  I am vaccinated.  I have had moments in the past when I wondered if there was a connection between vaccines and autism.  I never believed vaccines caused autism, but I did wonder if it exacerbated pre-existing conditions.  I no longer wonder because I stopped fearing autism and listening to those who would have us fear it and those who are Autistic.  And it seems this is what it comes down to.  When we fear “autism” so much that we are willing to put our child’s life at risk because of those fears, we must, as a society, look at what we are saying and believing.  Organizations intent on fueling those fears for monetary gain are being dishonest with themselves when they refuse to see the connection.  Adults, teenagers, children and babies are dying from preventable diseases because of people’s fears regarding causation and vaccinations.

When a parent makes the decision to not vaccinate their child they are not just putting their own child at risk for developing life threatening diseases, they are putting all of our lives at risk.  It’s important that we are clear about this.  None of us live in a bubble no matter how careful we might believe ourselves to be.  The decisions we make affect more than just ourselves and our families.  The decisions we make have larger ramifications that impact everyone we come into contact with.

For those of you on the fence regarding vaccinations – I understand the dilemma.  I understand how difficult it is.  I understand how debilitating fear can be.  Really I do.  I’ve felt it.  But in the end your decision comes down to this – are you willing to put not only your child’s life at risk, but your own and every person’s life you come into contact with?

Completely unrelated photograph taken yesterday of the rocky mountains

Perfection

 

Dreams of a New World…

Moral dilemmas continue to plague…  I have never seen myself as one of those mothers who poured all of her competitive spirit into shamelessly promoting her child.  A kind of stage mom gone rogue, using her kid’s exuberant charm and/or talents to gain recognition from thousands of strangers.  A kind of warped narcissistic mirror of neediness, an adult version of a child’s plea, Look at me!  Look at me!  Yet, in light of recent events with parents blogging about their children, posting photos, using their real names, telling excruciatingly personal stories, many not kind or endearing, while supposedly illuminating their child’s and their struggles for all the world to read, judge and comment on as a way to advocate for better services, it’s impossible for me not to reflect on what exactly am I doing here and how is what I’m doing so dissimilar?

I began this blog as a record, of what I hoped and expected would be, Em’s progress after a series of radical stem cell treatments.  I didn’t think or expect this would be read by anyone other than family and friends and those who might be thinking of embarking on similar radical treatments to “cure” their Autistic child.  At the time, April 2010, I wasn’t thinking ahead, I didn’t consider the broader implications, I thought of this space, this blank page, as a place I could come to record what I saw and hoped for, while believing that whatever it was, it would be “miraculous”.

What I didn’t know, couldn’t have known, was that the miracle that occurred ended up having nothing to do with stem cell treatments or any other treatment or therapy.  The miracle has been my own evolution, a kind of 180 degree turn from where I once was in my thinking, in my attitude and in my expectations about autism and what it means to be autistic.  And while there is no doubt that my daughter continues to make wonderful, steady progress, it is not as the result of various remedies and treatments we embarked upon, but rather as a direct result of NOT engaging in those various so-called “therapies”.   What harm we may have done to our daughter because of those treatments, bio-medical and otherwise, is something we will never know, but must live with the uncertainty for the rest of our lives.  

So why write about all of this?  Does the world really need another parent blog about their kid?  Probably not.  However, and here is where things get muddy for me, every time I think about ending this blog, every time I think I can’t keep doing this, it’s not right, it’s not fair to my daughter, it’s not for me to write about her, it’s not for me to broadcast what she says and/or does, it’s not for me to post photos of her, these are not my truths, they are hers to tell if and when she can, every time I think along these lines I wonder if I would have done things differently had I read a blog of someone’s journey that was similar to mine?  Would I have still gone to such drastic lengths?

Is it possible a child’s life might be made just a little easier because of something I write or say here?  Is that just ridiculously grandiose to even think in these terms?  And yet, I have to go back to my own history of having an eating disorder for more than 2o years and the help I was given from hearing others candid, uncensored stories of hope and recovery.  Those stories that resonated were the ones I clung to so desperately during those first painful and terrifying years as I tried to change my life.  Years when making it through a single day without binging and puking was considered a “good” day.  I needed those stories.  Had those people NOT told them I doubt very much I would have gotten through.  I don’t mean that to sound self-congratulatory, it’s actually the opposite, I could not have gotten to where I am without all those people, all those stories, all those people who reached out to me and said, “it’s okay, you can do this.  Here’s my number, give me a call if you’re in trouble.”  I learned to lean on people, I learned that I didn’t have all the answers, I learned that there were more things I couldn’t control than I could.  I learned what it meant to accept what is, the here and now.  I learned about being present and that I hold my breath when I’m fearful and I learned that I wasn’t alone.

So in the end, this blog is no longer a document of “my daughter’s journey through a childhood of autism” as I once described it.  This blog is a document of my journey as a parent and as a human being and how autism has changed my views.  It is a far more beautiful and complex world than I ever imagined or dreamed possible.  It is a world that is evolving, far too slowly for my taste, but I have seen glimmers of what is possible.  A world where we do not segregate, where ALL people are treated as equals, not just as an idea, but in reality, a world where everyone is fortunate enough to have an Autistic person in their life.  A world where autism is no longer feared, but is embraced.

Sunset

From Anthropological Duty To Love Or Things Not to Say to Your Sister-ln-Law by Kis Brink aka Gareeth

What follows is a guest post by Kis Brink (for those who follow this blog you will know her as Gareeth).  When she sent it to me, I was so taken with its insights, the power of her writing that I asked her if I could post it here.  Kis gave me her permission for which I am honored.  It was this piece by Kis that inspired yesterday’s post:  Yes, These Are Things I Think About, What About You?

“Love is a very controversial word in the history of autism. Hurtful ideas that autism was caused by the failure of parents to love their children and equally as hurtful ideas that autistic people were incapable of loving were put forward. Many still believe them. For me love was something I learned over time and it is still a word I use cautiously and sparingly. I do not say, “I love you” unless I am sure. The word is never used to express a strong preference for something. I think love is like many other aspects of Asperger’s and autism where our take on it may be slightly different but this in no way renders our love less real. It took time for me to learn this though.

Society has rules about love. Who you should and shouldn’t love. Who you should love the most and so on. I like rules. I wrote about my adherence to them and creation about them in a previous article. As a child when the word love was mainly a word devoid of emotional content I had no problem meeting the norms for when to use it. It was only as my range of emotion increased that this became a problem. 

Anyone who knows me well knows that unless you are prepared for honest answers don’t ask me a question. I know some people with Autistic Spectrum Disorders who have learned to use socially useful lies of the kind society expects. While seeing how they may be handy in many situations not only is this against my rules, I even have theory about why this is wrong.  I tell those unfortunate people trying to help me by explaining that sometimes you need to tell small harmless lies that I do not believe there are degrees of truth. I expect that some autism experts would be quick to label my thinking on this topic black and white thinking, but it is the way I think. I tell people trying to convince me it is useful to lie that I don’t believe in white lies. To me there is truth and non-truth. This is the reason why I must think very clearly and sometimes long on what may seem like a “no-brainer” to most people.

“An everyday example of something I give more thought than others is the simple, “How are you?” that comes up everyday. I have even concluded from experience that most people’s automatic answer of fine is seldom the truth. This whole ritual seems illogical to me. If you care about the person you then have to ask more questions to determine what the truth is and if you don’t, well to put it bluntly, why ask in the first place? I know it is a normative behavior in our society.  How this applies to love is it is also taken for granted that you will love your family and any offspring they produce. This, I think for most members of my family, would be reasonable. The part that gets me is, it is assumed that the onset of this love will be immediate. I don’t do immediate love. It seems illogical to me and perhaps even untruthful although it may be the truth for those who say they do. I have questioned some people on the subject but have yet to get a clear enough sample for a definitive conclusion.

“This brings me to the subtitle of this piece: Things Not To Say to Your Sister-ln-Law. I’ll say right off the bat that I am lucky to have an extremely understanding and kind one or looking back I suspect I provided ample opportunities for our relationship to grind to a complete and permanent halt. Almost ten years ago now my first nephew was born. He was in fact the first member of the next generation for our branch of the family tree. I was happy for my brother and sister-in-law and glad to be a Fasta (Danish for father’s sister). Society however expects more immediately. It seemed no one else had any reluctance to express love for this new scrap of humanity. I live some distance from my brother but planned a trip to see this child for the summer.

“When my nephew was four months old I made the trip to see him. On the coast I had been spared much questioning beyond his height and the usual things like that. I had none of his other kin to compare myself to. I had a new role as a human and I was going to figure out what it entailed.  The first night of my visit after my brother went to bed, my sister-in-law and I were in the kitchen together. She asked what I thought of my nephew. It was a question I was still working on internally. I had these vague feelings that I could not quite name. I didn’t feel it would be correct to call these new feelings love at that point so I commented that I felt a sense of responsibility and commitment to the first member of the descending generation. This was a concept I had learned in anthropology that, to me, seemed to best sum up what was happening inside of me.

“Well it was quickly apparent that this was not quite the answer she had been expecting. I don’t remember if she was near tears or merely frustrated or both when she told me, “You know it’s okay just to love him.” This didn’t really make sense to me. I suspected I would grow to love him. I had hopes about what our relationship would be like. I knew people love their nephews and nieces and that his other aunts and uncles were able to say they did without batting an eye. I went to my room feeling frustrated and confused. I had been looking forward to being a Fasta and it seemed I was already messing up at it.

“People have called me a kid magnet. Children seem to gravitate towards me and enjoy being with me. I enjoy them as well. Despite the fact that my nephew was only 4 months old I did feel a certain sense of pride as I observed how well he kicked his legs around at the gym-toy babies have for kicking. I felt more feelings which I couldn’t identify when I looked at him sleeping, I even took my friends in to admire the marvel of him asleep. Maybe if I didn’t have autism I would have concluded that all this did in fact constitute sufficient grounds to say I loved him.

“Pictures taken at that time with he and I show a softening in my face that is positively maternal. Journal entries reflect a marvel for even his simplest behavior. I spent a lot of time walking with him in the neighborhood, thinking about all the things I would teach him as he grew older. I felt equipped to handle my anthropological duties towards him. It was only when others spoke about him that a fear in me would surface that I was an inferior brand of aunt. That no matter what I had to teach him and how fierce my desire was to protect him until I could repeatedly say how much I loved him in a conversation I would not make the grade.

“Fortunately time passed. My own range of breadth of feeling was on a steep learning curve at this same time. With each subsequent visit I moved closer to knowing I loved him. I started to be able to do some of the things I had imagined. He learned to speak and could express marvel over issues that I did not really expect a child so young to notice or have thoughts about. One day at the zoo we passed the exhibit that explains poaching. I thought that he was way to young to really understand how bad it was and tried to explain it in a way that would make sense to him, but when his eyes filled with tears and he asked why repeatedly I knew he had a special soul. A soul that would require more diligent protecting and nurturing than I had thought.

“There were other signs in those days. He had an obsession for whales. One Christmas everyone seemed to know that they had better get him some form of whale or not even bother with a present..  All seemed well in his world until he opened up a whale that had the wrong color tongue. Most of us were surprised that he knew so much about so many kinds of whales but his action regarding this whale was decisive. Into the garbage it went. No amount of explaining that it was wrong to throw out a present or offering to correct this error would convince him that something horrible had not happened. He asked the perennial question of childhood although his whys were a little more detailed. Why would someone even make a model of a whale and not get the tongue color right. Well the kid had a point on that one.

“One day a few months after his maternal grandfather had died my sister-in-law phoned to report what he had said at pre-school. It was the final and convincing evidence I needed to conclude that his soul was so special that not only did I love him with all my heart, I was prepared to do battle against any who might attempt to hurt this soul.  His pre-school had a no-violent-toys rule that was enforced quite strictly. A boy had ignored this rule and had a toy sword with him. My nephew told him, “Sword all you can while you are young, because you can’t take your sword to heaven because when you go to heaven you are flat.”

“Well the first two parts of what he said amazed me. The part about being flat also made sense in the context of his life. His grandfather had been cremated and scattered in the mountains. This is where the flat notion came from. I couldn’t have been prouder of him if he had discovered a cure for cancer. I thought and felt all the things that I had worried about not feeling for the first few years of his life. I rushed to get the exact quote and pinned it to my bulletin board in my most sacred spot – right above my computer. I listed his age and his title: Philosopher and Theologian.

“I have always identified with the song by Don McLean, “Starry Starry Night.” The line where it says, “the world was never meant for one as beautiful as you” hits home to me. When the world hurts mostly because it fails to understand people like myself and people with other differences I think of this and there is some comfort in the idea that it might be a question of being an excessively beautiful soul for the world in which we live. I knew immediately that my nephew too was one of these people and any last question about whether the feelings that had strengthened overtime qualified as love vanished.

“Yes it was a journey to this point. Not a love that I could say I felt with confidence on his birth but this does not make it a conditional love. I love everything about him. Many of my happiest hours are spent in his company. His excitement when I come, hearing him brag about me to his friends, his joy in the simple things in life would make any aunt proud. I know longer worry that my brand of “Fasta-ing” (pardon the creation of a word) is inferior. It is clear from his response that it is not.

“This Christmas he bought gifts for other people for the first time. About mine he kept saying it was small but precious. I had no doubt that it would be. Like myself he too seems to need symbols to represent people who are absent and his feelings for them. I was delighted to receive a piece of pyrite from him on Christmas morning. He has one similar to it. I told him that I would keep it by my bed the way his was so we would both always be reminded of our love for each other as we fell asleep and woke up. I hardly need reminding at this point though. Still that once mysterious feeling of love fills me completely when I look at this precious stone and contemplate the beautiful relationship I enjoy with my nephew.

“For those of you who may have relatives with high functioning forms of autism, when they give you not quite the answer you expect, I hope you take into account our unique perspective on the world. Particularly in the realm of emotion we may be embarking on a whole new voyage. I feel so lucky to have a sister-in-law who could forgive my atypical response, who brings it up now and then with humor, but especially for having a nephew with a soul so beautiful he brought me into new waters.”

Emma reading her favorite book – The Way I Feel – 2008