Tag Archives: RPM

How Do We Put A Price on Communication?

As I was downloading a couple of photographs just now, I found the video we took of Ari and Emma’s presentation Wednesday evening.  Intact.  We’ve got it all!!  Woot!  Woot!  But before I put the video on here, I have to get permission from Ari and Emma.  So let me do that and then, if both agree, you should be able to view it next week.  I’m hoping by Monday.

In the meantime, there’s something else I want to talk about.  And that is the experience of hearing your child’s thoughts and opinions, interests, questions, and desires, when you weren’t sure you would ever be able to do so.  Now this is a little loaded because there are some who believe it’s wrong to suggest all Autistic people will be able to express themselves.  Those people believe there are some who cannot and it is creating false hope to suggest otherwise.  There are still others who feel that communication comes in myriad forms and we must stop insisting one way (speech) is the only way. They believe we should honor all methods of communication, whether that’s through words, sounds, body language, or silence and using our other senses.   Those people believe, and I am one of them, that we all have the wish to connect with our fellow humans in some capacity, at least some of the time, and it is incumbent upon all of us to figure out how we can support each other so that all have the opportunity to do so.

When Emma first wrote an unexpected sentence, described in detail ‘here‘ it was the beginning of what would turn out to be nothing short of an odyssey for all of us.  From that moment, on November 25th, 2012, we have experienced what can only be described as a dream-like adventure with Emma leading the way.  The degree to which she was underestimated by almost everyone who met her, including us, is beyond my ability to describe.  I say “almost” because there were a few people who met her who were not fooled.  It is interesting to note that those few were Autistic.  My friend Ibby was the first and we’ve written a little about this in two pieces she and I wrote featured in Parenting Autistic Children With Love and Acceptance’s first addition of their terrific new magazine, which you can read ‘here‘ (It begins with a piece by Ibby on page 17 and then ends with my companion piece beginning on page 21.)  By the way, the entire magazine is filled with wonderful pieces by Beth Ryan, Nick Walker, Cynthia Kim, Amy Sequenzia, Renee Salas, Sharon davenport, Alyssa Hillary, Kimberly F. Steiner, Juniper Russo, Amy Caraballo, Jane Strauss, Kelly Green, Steve Summers, Leslie Rice, Zita Dube-Lockhart, Leah Kelley, Lei Wiley Mydske and others who donated their art work.

When someone sees Emma, who now communicates by pointing to letters on a letter board, (which is different from when she wrote that first sentence a year and a half ago) I sometimes hear the following comments – “I just don’t see how this can translate to a school setting” or “It takes too long” or  “economically it’s not feasible because it requires a one on one ratio that most schools won’t be able to pay for.”  Except here’s the thing…  The way Emma communicates is tailored for an academic setting.  Just as in any classroom, a student is called upon to give an answer or thought, about any given topic, so could Emma be given the opportunity.  All it requires is for the teacher to say, “Emma when you’re ready just signal and you’ll be next.”  The aide can then raise their hand when Emma has finished writing.  This would also deal with the comment that it “takes too long” and I’ll just add that our society’s increasing desire, that everything be reduced to a sound bite, should be tempered, and having someone like Emma in a classroom, would be beneficial to all, by the very fact that we all need to slow the f*ck down.

As far as what this means economically, I argue that there is a great deal of money being spent on a great many things that are NOT working.  Things like trainings for methods that do not produce the type of complex and nuanced language we are seeing.  How do we put a price on communication?  How can anyone suggest that having someone who was thought to be unable, or worse, incapable of expressing their thoughts, not be supported to do so because of the cost associated with it?  How can any of us seriously object?  And yet… people do all the time.  And it catches me by surprise every, single time when they do.

To see your child express their thoughts, as we have had the opportunity to do, is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.  It has changed everything.  Literally everything.  Some people have said to me, “Oh you’re so patient.”  No.  I’m not.  When Emma is writing something, I am filled with eager anticipation for what she’ll say.  Patience?  No.  Ecstatic is a better way to describe my feelings as I witness the outpouring of her words.

How we engage with our daughter, how we speak to her, what we think and now believe, all of it has dramatically changed as a direct result of her communication.  I haven’t even begun to discuss what this has meant to Emma.  And here’s just one more massive difference between then and now.  Instead of me guessing or making assumptions about what this means to Emma, she can now tell us.

“I want to tell you that I am capable.  Daring massively, eager to prove my intelligence, I will work tirelessly so that Autistic children younger than me won’t be doubted the way I am.”                                         By Emma Zurcher-Long

How does anyone put a price tag on this?

Emma Wears A Pretty Dress To School ~ April 4th, 2014

Emma Wears A Pretty Dress To School ~ April 4th, 2014

Emma Discusses – Awareness

“Awareness is deciding something is worth your time and attention.  It is not necessarily good.  Real awareness needs to be balanced.” ~ Emma Zurcher-Long

I asked Emma whether she wanted to write something about autism awareness since April 2nd is World Autism Awareness Day, designated by the UN in 1989.  Emma wrote,

“Autism awareness really does me very little.  It is not honoring or making my life easier.  So many believe I am unintelligent even though I write well.  Until they see me writing, it is not what they assume.  What good is awareness if it doesn’t tell people the truth?”

Ariane:  “What is the truth?”

“The truth is, so much of what we perceive compared to another, isn’t known.  People see me, but don’t understand what they are seeing.  I want people to know what it is like to have smart thoughts, but not be able to prove it.

“No one wants to be treated with impatience.  I am happy when people are aware of how bright I am.  Maybe they have a special light bulb for that.  Shine some awareness on those of us who can’t talk the way we think.”

Texas ~ September, 2013

Texas ~ September, 2013

Experiencing Without Words

Over the weekend we played a story telling game.  The round robin story telling was an idea Emma came up with during an RPM session she had a few weeks ago and it seemed like a great idea for a rainy Sunday morning.  (Unfortunately, I didn’t get everyone’s permission to print our story here.)  Suffice it to say, it involved rain, a family made up of two parents, a girl, a boy, and a tornado carrying a herd of walrus.

Emma began the story with one sentence, then each person added a sentence and we continued going around in a circle.  Emma spelled out her sentences by pointing to letters on her laminated letter board, my husband and son said their sentences out loud while I transcribed what they said, but when it was my turn, I found it very difficult to think of what to add out loud, and so I wrote my sentence down first and then read it to the group.

After each person’s contribution there was much laughter and ad-libbing.  At one point Richard, who, it must be said, couldn’t help himself, constructed perhaps the longest, and wonderfully, creative run-on sentence every spoken.  He did look a bit sheepish afterwards, but the story moved along until it was Emma’s turn again, where upon she said, “All done.  No.  You have to work!”  Her comment reminded me that for Emma this “game” that was intended as fun, was “work” for her.  As no one else was viewing it as work we stopped after the fourth go around, at which point Emma raced off.

I think a great deal about how hard it is for Emma to communicate, whether that is through spoken language or writing; they are both hard.  This surprises many people who assume, as did I, at least in the beginning, that someone who cannot rely on spoken language to communicate, would be more than a little relieved to finally find a way to express themselves by writing instead.  However Emma has told me on several occasions that while she is relieved that people finally can understand her when she writes, it is also very, very difficult for her.

Emma recently described writing as, “It’s too hard work,” but it’s easier for the rest of us, particularly as it tends to be more accurate of her thinking than her spoken language.  Not long ago Emma wrote, “I can’t talk the way I think.”   But it would be a mistake to then assume writing is easy or that she eagerly does it.  And I was reminded of all of this when it was my turn to come up with a sentence for the story.  I couldn’t come up with a sentence through spoken language, but had to write it down first.  What if everyone had insisted that I say my sentence out loud, what if someone had said that it was against the rules to write the sentence down first?

I can tell you it would have been much more difficult for me, though it still would have been fun.  But what if I experienced the world in other ways and not with words?  What if my experience of people and things was not through pictures, words or anything that can even be described with words?  Wouldn’t both written and spoken language through the use of words be equally difficult for me?  What if my experience of the world was completely different and having to translate this experience into words was actually impossible?  What if so much was lost in the translation that it no longer represented my experience?  What then?

Em with her string

Em with her string

Seeing Others Write To Communicate

I often think about that first time I saw someone who was unable to express themselves through spoken language, but who spoke through writing.  There is nothing quite like seeing to believe or at least to begin to believe what many of us have been told is impossible.   So I’ve compiled a few Youtube videos of different people who communicate the way Emma does.  A couple of them show people who have graduated from the laminated letter board and now type independently on a stationary keyboard.  This is our goal and what Emma is working toward.   For those who may feel someone holding a laminated letter board is cumbersome and suspect, please keep in mind the letter board is a stepping stone, which all hope will eventually lead to full independence.

The first video is of Ido who now types independently on a keyboard.  Ido’s blog is Ido in Autismland where, in a recent post, A Challenge to Autism Professionals, he wrote:

“The theories regarding autism have been based on observation of our odd behaviors. Lists of these behaviors make a diagnosis. I have limited independence in selfcare. I have limited eye contact. I have flat affect often. I can’t express my ideas verbally. I have poor fine motor control. I have impaired initiation. I have impaired gross motor control. I have difficulty controlling intense emotions. I have impulse control challenges and self stimulatory behavior.”

At the end of this terrific post he writes:

“Thousands of autistic people like me live life in isolation and loneliness, denied education, condemned to baby talk and high fives, and never able to express a thought. The price of assuming that nonverbal people with autism have impaired thinking is a high one to families and to people who live in solitary confinement within their own bodies. It is high time professionals rethought their theories.”

Ido wrote a book with the same title as his blog – Ido in Autismland.  I cannot recommend this book enough and have written about it before ‘here‘ and ‘here.’   It should be required reading for all parents with an Autistic child as well as anyone who is considering entering or is already in the field of special education and/or autism.

This second Youtube video is of a boy who writes a letter to his church.

Jackie Dorhurst is a speech/language pathologist shown here working with Gavin.  Jackie has an organization called RPM+ located in Wisconsin.

This next video is of my friend Sue Finnes’s son Chris.  Sue has a wealth of videos that she’s posted on Youtube over the years of Chris working with a number of people whom she’s trained to work with him.

And finally this video is of another independent typer, Mitch Helt who writes a letter to his aide.

This post was inspired by a comment from Ari,  who has a wonderful blog, Pixie Perceptions.  You are not alone Ari.  Doing all I can to make sure others realize this…

Talking By Writing

*Emma gave me permission to write about the following…*

Every Tuesday afternoon I go to Emma’s school where Emma and I do a sample lesson, or Emma answers questions from staff or sometimes someone wants to share what they worked on with her and what her answer was.  As Emma “talks” by pointing with a pencil to the letters on a laminated letter board she twirls her string, and often, while she is “talking” by writing, she is also talking, as she describes it, “with my mouth” at the same time.  When I mentioned this to her at our last training session she smiled and wrote, “It is hard for non autistic people to multitask as well as I can.”  Which was one of those frequent – oh-my-gosh-Emma-you-are-so-fabulous – moments, because, really, not only does she have a wickedly wonderful sense of humor, but whoa(!) how right she is!

Later Emma wrote in answer to the question, “Is it problematic for you to switch from the letter board to a qwerty board, she wrote, “No.  It’s not a problem.  Is it hard for you?”  I was so taken aback by her response, because, honestly I had not ever considered that it isn’t a problem for me, so why did I assume it would be for her?  And yet, I have.   This was yet another reminder to me of how I presume competence as best I can with all that I know and yet, am humbled by constant little nudges urging me to go farther.  How beautiful is that?  Seriously?!

When I began witnessing people who use spoken language like my daughter does or who do not speak at all, but write, often poetically, often beautifully, I was astonished.  It was unlike anything I had ever seen before.  It’s been close to two years now since that first time I witnessed in real life someone communicating this way.  At first I was so incredulous, all I could do was watch and try to take in what I was witnessing.  After many encounters, repeated by so many people, men, women, teenagers, boys and girls as young as seven or eight I went from shocked amazement to a more calm feeling of  excitement, but even now, having spent nearly every day watching my daughter write this way, I often still feel like I’m in a dream.   It is as though I have been allowed into another dimension, and it is more beautiful than anything I ever believed possible.

"Talking" with the letter board

“Talking” to Soma using the letter board

 

“How Did You Learn To Read?”

A few days ago someone asked Emma, “How did you learn to read and spell?”  Last night, in response to this question Emma wrote, “I learned by watching the words my mom read to me.”  She went on to write, “I was able to read many years ago and could write, but didn’t have any way to show it.”

I asked, “Were you able to read as a very little girl?”

Emma wrote, “Yes.”

“As a toddler?”

“Yes,” Emma wrote again.

What is interesting about this is that for years, when Emma was very young, I assumed she didn’t like being read to because when I tried she would grab the book, insist on flipping the pages faster than I could read them, and generally seemed (to me) uninterested.  But from what she wrote last night, it suggests I was incorrect about these early assumptions or at least was partly incorrect.  I am no longer shocked by all that I didn’t understand.  It no longer surprises me to find out, even now, how wrong I was and continue to be about so much when it comes to my daughter.

Because Emma did not sit quietly while I read to her, I thought she didn’t like being read to.  Because Emma preferred holding the book and would turn the page before I had time to finish reading the words I assumed she wasn’t interested in the story.  Because Emma protested if I tried to take the book from her to continue reading, I assumed she wanted to be left alone.  Because Emma seemed distracted while I read, I believed she didn’t like the story, didn’t care for the book, didn’t like books in general.

How would I have viewed her various therapies, preschool, and later grade school, had we understood that she already knew how to read at such a young age?  Our decisions on how to proceed, our opinions regarding what others told us, so matter-of-fact, so sure of themselves… who knew how wrong they all were?   How wrong we were?

People say things like – parents know their child better than anyone.  In our case no one knew our child better than anyone.  We didn’t.  All those therapists who worked with Emma didn’t.  All her teachers, everyone who came in contact with her, not a single person during those early years ever said, “I’m guessing she already knows how to read” or “maybe she already knows, but we haven’t found a way to help her show us all she knows.”  Emma’s need to move, her inability to consistently say out loud what she intends, her deep need for sensory input, her attempts to regulate herself, none of that was understood by anyone, including us.

Had we not begun to find ways for Emma to communicate through the written word, had we insisted on her “speaking,” we would continue to be in the dark. All the things emphasized in  school for a child like Emma who is physically capable of articulating words made us believe spoken language was what we needed to concentrate on.  What we are seeing is that the less we focus on her speaking and the more we focus on her writing, the more she is speaking.

“Hey Em, do you want to put the smaller string in your backpack, just so you have it?” I asked as we headed down to meet her school bus this morning.

“N” “O” Emma said, as she bounded toward the elevator.

A self portrait in the making

A self portrait in the making

When the Body Does not Obey the Mind

Emma gave me permission to quote her words, written this past Sunday.

“Please remember that my mind tells my body and my mouth to do all sorts of wonderful things constantly, but they don’t obey.

“Sometimes I want to scream.  I am trying so hard, but no one notices and they are annoyed instead of understanding.”

Emma wrote this in response to her gymnastics teacher, but it applies to so many instances where she confounds those around her by doing things she knows she shouldn’t, things she doesn’t want to do, doesn’t intend to do and yet does anyway.  Typically people assume she is doing these things because she doesn’t care, or is trying to be mischievous, or “wants attention” or any number of assumptions people make when witnessing her actions.  But in speaking with Emma, it is clear how incorrect these assumptions are.  As Emma wrote, “I am trying so hard, but no one notices and they are annoyed instead of understanding.”

Sydney Edmond is an Autistic young woman who describes herself as “… locked inside a body that won’t cooperate.”  Sydney published a book of poems, The Purple Tree and Other Poems.  Recently Sydney gave a lecture to a group of Special Education students and educators at a high school.  She generously gave me permission to reprint some of her lecture here.

“People need to know, because Society apparently thinks autistic people are lacking intelligence. Our wandering wayward eyes and hands flapping, screaming, and anxious stimming don’t help, either. But in truth, we polish our souls deep down inside where they can’t see us, while our dastardly bodies act in ways we can’t control. That’s right. I told you I have lousy control over my behavior. Can you relate? Perhaps you have moments when your body does things without your permission? When you lose control and shout at someone or hit out? Well imagine what it would be like if you were just the opposite, and were always out of control with little solid gold moments when all the pieces come together and knowledge passes impulse? For those moments we are the captain of our ship and we feel unbelievably perfect. But, passing time wipes it away. Possibility becomes disability again. Look at your fellow students with autism deeply and with patience. We are in here.  And we are exhausted, panicked, and lonely.”

Ido Kedar, who wrote the book Ido in Autismland writes about the body/mind disconnect he experiences, as well as the embarrassment he then feels when his body does not do as he wishes.

“I feel it’s time autistic people finally say what it’s like to be drilled in flashcards over and over when your hands don’t move to your thoughts, or to have your teacher say in front of you that you can’t count because your stupid hands refuse the right number you’ve counted in your head.  I remember standing miserable and embarrassed, holding the wrong number of straws and hearing my teacher say, “It’s clear he has no number sense,” as if I couldn’t understand or had no emotions either.  When I think of these frustrating experiences I am grateful I am not in that situation anymore.  But many of my friends still are.  That’s why I cry for them.”

Sydney Edmond, from her recent lecture, wrote:

“I found freedom and wonderful joy when, as a ten year old, I was taught how to point to letters on a Letterboard and spell what I wanted to say. I eagerly worked, and within a few months, I was able to communicate. In the beginning, I needed a lot of support. I couldn’t even point my finger when I wanted to. My body, as usual, did not cooperate. I had to force it to, so all my words, stored away for ten years, could finally come out into the world. Do you want to know what I asked for? Well, I asked to have my own pizza. And then I asked to learn ballet. And piano. And I asked to learn about history. I was thirsty to learn. I finally had a way to ask questions that let people know I was intelligent. Soon I learned how to type on a keyboard and have a lovely voice added to my words. I went back to school to prove I was intelligent. I had been tested and told again and again I had the intelligence of an infant. Having a method to communicate turned it around. My language comprehension was college level in 8th grade when I was actually given a means to show what I knew.

“Loads of us, people all over the world, type to communicate. I am one of many, and we all want people who cannot speak to have the opportunity we are enjoying. I hope that my words today might spark a willingness to proceed on the journey of a lifetime. I hope one of you will take action to give a voice to someone who cannot speak.”

Ido, Sydney and Emma all began writing to communicate by using a letter board.  All of them discuss what it is like to have a mind that “…tells my body and my mouth to do all sorts of wonderful things constantly, but they don’t obey.”  Each of them describes their experience, whether that includes frustration, embarrassment, or shame and what it is like to be so thoroughly misunderstood.

I am grateful to each for allowing me to reprint their words in the hope that others will begin to reconsider their assumptions and how they then respond.

"Happy"

“Happy”

When Time Stands Still

After publishing yesterday’s post, “So Many Kids Are Just Like Me” I added a video of Emma writing those words and more.  I hadn’t added it when I first wrote the post because Emma hadn’t given me permission yet and we were still trying to get the video uploaded, ran into problems with the picture being condensed and other issues.  In any case, for those who want to view it now, you can.  On a personal note, I’ll just add that this video makes me feel very squirmy because it does not capture the playfulness we usually have together, and I’m hyper aware of the anxiety I was feeling while we were taping…  Also the video does seem to be taking longer than it should to load, at least it is on my computer, but Emma has said she’d like to tape more, so I’m hoping we will get better at uploading as we continue.

My friend Alex commented on yesterday’s post about the impact of watching Emma write, as opposed to reading about it.  It was exactly for this reason that we decided it was important to post the video.  There is nothing like seeing in real-time another person writing this way.   No amount of words, no matter how well phrased can describe this process the way watching it in real-time does.

I will never forget that moment at the Autcom Conference in 2012 when I watched a boy, younger than Emma is now, write such insightful and profoundly wise comments  that his mother then read out loud during a presentation.  It was that moment when I thought to myself – maybe, just maybe my daughter has thoughts like this, and we just have to find a way for her to express them.  It makes me cry with gratitude thinking about that moment not so very long ago.  No one could have convinced me then that just a year and a half later we would be where we now find ourselves.

It is inevitable that there will be people who say things like, “well it takes too long” and  “how can this work in a class room?”  But as a parent who has wanted nothing more than to know what my daughter was thinking, who believed despite what the majority of people believed and were telling us that maybe, just maybe they were wrong, watching Emma write is when time stands still.  The excitement I feel when she begins to point to a letter is like nothing I’ve ever experienced.  Each letter she points to is a tiny gift wrapped in beautiful paper, as the paper peels back to uncover the word inside the world and everything in it stops.  It is a sensation like none other.

To my daughter, who works so very hard to accommodate my need to hear her experience of the world put into words, I thank you.  Every single time you do, even though you feel it’s tedious, I thank you.  Gratitude does not come anywhere near my feelings.  There are no words for this.  And I know this is a tiny glimpse into what you, Emma, feel every time you are asked to put into words your thoughts.  Words can’t come close…  finally I understand…

Em & Ariane on New Year's Eve ~ 2013

Em & Ariane on New Year’s Eve ~ 2013

Emma’s Story Written Entirely On A Qwerty Keyboard!

Recently we painted both the kid’s bedrooms.  They each found the colors they wanted.  Emma chose a beautiful sea greenish blue and a luxurious red for the baseboard, exposed pipes and doors.  She picked out a gold-colored mesh to cover her new four-poster bed.  Her new room is beautiful and I have found myself wandering into it, just so I can soak up the beauty of her newly painted walls, her princess bed with golden, cascading canopy and all her stuffed animals filling the floor to ceiling bookshelves.

Yesterday during Emma’s RPM (Rapid Prompting Method) session Emma wrote that she intended to write a story.  I’m including a link here to the post I wrote not long ago entitled “How We Got Here” for those of you new to this blog.  This is the story Emma wrote by typing on a qwerty keyboard attached to an iPad.  This is Emma’s first full story written entirely on a qwerty keyboard!  And as always, Emma approved this post and the accompanying photograph of her room.

                               The Girl Magician

From the bedroom of a house in Southern Georgia, there lived a girl named Judy.  Her room was dazzling.  Her time was spent by herself, and she liked it that way.

She had visiting hours for family to check out the best room in the house.  When visiting hours were over, Judy got to work on secret projects.  She noticed that when she changed the color of her scarf, many other things changed also.  When the blue scarf attached to her, she became very talkative.  The orange one made her laugh and the brown one made her cry.

Judy wore a yellow scarf during visiting hours one day.  Family was calling her name, but they did not see her.  She was invisible.  Judy was someone with magic powers.

The End

The Princess Bed with bookshelf filled with animal friends.  Notice the newly painted blue walls with red trim!

The Princess Bed with bookshelf filled with animal friends. Notice the newly painted blue walls with red trim!

Emma’s Question To You

Last week during Emma’s RPM session with B. they discussed interviews, the act of interviewing another person and the reasons one might interview another: for jobs, schools, etc.  They discussed where an interview might take place, one on one and in person, a group interview, by telephone, over email, etc.  I don’t have Emma’s permission to write about the interview she then conducted with an imaginary person, but as a result of all of this, I decided to continue with this idea of an interview in our session at home.  So I asked Emma whether she wanted to be the interviewer or the one being interviewed.

Emma wrote, “I want to know what you think about autism and am curious to understand why wasted time is spent being against a way of thinking.”  Later she added to that last part, “and being.”  So the sentence read, “I want to know what you think about autism and am curious to understand why wasted time is spent being against a way of thinking and being.”

Whew.  Talk about a great question!  I told her that I believed there was so much more we do not know than we know about all neurology.  I mentioned that with  Autistic neurology in particular, there is a tendency to state as fact a great deal that is not fact, but is really an opinion.   I told her that her writing has so completely changed my thinking about not just her, but autism in general.  I talked about how people fear what they do not understand, how they make up stories and confuse ideas and opinions as facts.  I discussed how assumptions are made because people like to believe they know things, even when they don’t and how people would rather believe something that isn’t true than sit with the discomfort that can come with not knowing.

And then I asked her if she wanted to know what other people thought about her question, or was this a question specifically for me?

Emma wrote that she would like to know what others think.

So I’m throwing it out to all of you… think of this as Emma’s first interview question to you.

“I want to know what you think about autism and am curious to understand why wasted time is spent being against a way of thinking and being.”

Emma's "Eyes and I" project

Emma’s “Eyes and I” project

Words of Truth

“Raw thoughts are like savory understandings of yummy foods.” ~ Emma 03/02/14

Sometimes when Emma and I are working she will write something that I simply cannot follow in real-time.  It is only after multiple readings and many hours of pondering have passed that I can begin to make sense of certain sentences.  As Emma constructs a sentence to reflect her thoughts by pointing to the letters she wants on the letter board, my mind is working on another level.  I am transcribing as she points, so I’m concentrating hard on remembering the letters and figuring out when I can pause to write those letters down.

Will the pause create a disconnect?   Will it break her concentration?   How much will I be able to remember before I have to stop her to write the letters she’s chosen down?  Sometimes she’ll point to “I” then “a” and then “y” and I’ll have to stop and show her the letters and say, do you need to change any of these letters?  Sometimes she will erase all the letters, insert a letter between two others, but other times she’ll erase just the last letter and continue.  Sometimes she will say aloud, “No, keep letters” and we will proceed.  Often she will then write something so astonishing I cannot contain the surge of emotions that rush forward.

During all of this, Emma may twirl her string, laugh, say unrelated words, or look at the timer and comment about how much time is left.  Sometimes writing one sentence might take 45 minutes.  Sometimes that one sentence will remain unfinished and when we come back to it, she will simply say, “no” and we will move on to something else.  Sometimes the words are so seemingly unrelated I have to resist the urge to ask for clarification mid sentence.  Sometimes she will write something I cannot understand, but the next day will re-read it and think –  my gosh, that’s brilliant!

“Raw thoughts are like savory understandings of yummy foods.”

Seemingly disparate senses woven together to create a canvas of rich and varied depth and colors has me in awe.  We talk about autism and autistic people as having sensory integration issues, but I look at a sentence like this one and I question whether the sensory integration issues are mine rather than hers.  Emma has a wonderful command of the English language, she is able to express her senses in complex, creative and layered ways.  I am compelled to read and reread her words.  I savor them, exactly as the sentence states so matter-of-factly.   Her words…  painstaking…  one letter at a time, convey truth.

Truth

Truth

An Essay by Emma

*Emma asked that I post this today.

Yesterday, during Emma’s RPM session (not with me, but with the person who does weekly RPM sessions with her) she was asked to talk about something where she compared and contrasted.

Emma wrote the following…

                             “Part of All Buildings”

“For thousands of years and as long as buildings have existed, walls are covered.

“Generational trends have shifted.  The idea of paint versus wallpaper is one to give attention to.  Ask yourself what has changed in trends.  Did you ever think to believe the walls around you influenced change?

“Wallpaper with precious patterns are torn apart in many current buildings.  Paint has won the walls of this generation.

“If you believe your environment can change parts of you, keep reading.

“I am wondering if those who surround themselves with precious patterns have bigger imaginations than those with simple paint.  It is easier to become friends with colorful patterns.

“They can both get dirty.  In wallpaper the wear becomes welcomed more.

“I can do the research and report back!”

Wallpaper versus Paint

Wallpaper versus Paint

The Opposite of False Hope

Two days ago, Emma wrote her “Letter To the World” and yesterday while doing a throw-the-entire-house-into-disarray spring cleaning, I came upon a scrap of paper where I’d scrawled an enthusiastic note about something Emma had said.  I was so excited by her comment I had thought to write it down immediately lest I forget.  I even dated it.   The note read, 11/20/11 – Emma saw the next word we were about to work on and she said – “today we do “see”!  You see I did not realize then that Emma already knew how to read.  At the time, we had no idea of Emma’s capabilities.

Along with this note were books on counting, a whole book devoted to telling time, another that dealt with coins and the value of a penny, nickel, dime and quarter.  There were kindergarten level readers and books featuring simple addition and subtraction, along with multiplication and division flash cards that remained wrapped in their original cellophane wrapping, having never been opened because it was not believed Emma had mastered addition and subtraction yet, so how could we possibly expect her to move on to multiplication and division?

There have been other notes over the years, just like this one; little bits of paper where I jotted something down because I didn’t want to forget.  Usually noting things Emma said or did that proved to me that what people were saying about her were wrong, but often they were just moments, moments I wanted to record so that when I was feeling sad or discouraged I could see that there was progress, little glimmers of progress no matter how infinitesimal, they were undeniably there.

For those who have read what Emma is currently writing, all of this will seem a little strange.  You see, Emma has told us that she already could read more than two years ago when we were breaking everything down to its most basic, going over one word at a time, over and over, making sure she knew it before building on to the next and then the next.  All those years spent going over the concept of addition or subtraction, only to have her flounder when asked what 6+5 equaled.  Or when asked, “how do we spell “cat” she would remain silent or if asked to write the answer by hand or to type it, she could not and so we assumed she hadn’t learned the word yet.

We believed that because she could not read aloud a level one reader, or answer a question about the contents of that story, it meant she was unable to read or understand.  When she was unable to answer us, little things like, “where do we go to buy milk?” and she would giggle and say something completely unrelated like,  “it’s Mommy’s turn” I would then despair, look at my husband with fear and believe this proved, yet again, just how far we had to go.  There were other fears too.  Fears about what all of this meant to my child for her future, but increasingly I would try to head those off with a kind of stoic resolve to not give into them and to review once more the concept of quantity, or time, or value, or the spelling of a single-syllable word.

Of course looking back I see how wrong we were.  I understand now that the problem was she had no way of communicating to us what she knew.  She could not “tell” us, she could not “show” us in any way that we were able to see.  All those reading comprehension questions, all those work sheets, all that fear, all those days, months, years spent in terror…   I see this now.  I “get” it.  Now.  Now I get it, but for so long I did not.  For so many years I didn’t understand.  I kept thinking she couldn’t learn.  I kept thinking what was being said to her wasn’t understood.  I kept thinking that I had to use more basic language, that I was complicating things, that the answer was to dumb it down, to do more review, more repetition, more of the same, over and over until she could answer me in the way I believed showed she’d learned.

Meanwhile Emma patiently waited for me to understand.  Years went by and Emma continued to do her best, hoping, hoping we would finally catch on.  With Soma, Emma wrote how  grateful she was to us, her mom and dad, for “not giving up on me, I was so scared.”  And as I sat watching her type those words I wept.  Tears of gratitude for her, for not giving up on us, but also tears of sadness for all those years… years of misunderstanding, years when we just didn’t know.  Every time I would read about a child who did not speak, or did not have conversations using spoken language, but who typed incredible insights, thoughts and opinions, I believed they were an anomaly.  I didn’t dare believe my child could be like those few who were speaking out.  I didn’t dare hope.  I couldn’t.  It was too painful.

“They say hope is cruel for the hopeless, but maybe they are the cruel ones.”  Emma wrote this the other day and as she wrote those words I reflected on the irony of it all.  One day I hope this idea – that we mustn’t raise false hopes – will no longer be what parents like me are told.  One day I hope those people, the therapists, the educators, all those people, many of whom are in the field of autism, who mean well, but who do not know what our children are capable of, will realize how wrong they are and will stop trying to protect parents like me from what they believe is “false hope”, but it turns out is simply what they do not know and have not yet come to understand.

The hundreds of worksheets...

The hundreds of worksheets…

During the years when we labeled things

During the years when we labeled things

in large print before we knew she could read...

in large print before we knew she could read…

“A Letter To the World” ~ By Emma

                     “A Letter To The World

“I want to tell you that I am capable.  Daring massively, eager to prove my intelligence, I will work tirelessly so that Autistic children younger than me won’t be doubted the way I am.

“Plea-ing to the world, I ask that those who are not able to restrain their doubts, at least not mute voices like mine.

“Deciding stupidity bolsters egos while crushing lives with angry words disguised as kindness.

“They say hope is cruel for the hopeless, but maybe they are the cruel ones.”

Emma wrote this in response to my question, “What do you want to learn about?” (I gave her a number of choices ranging from people like Joan of Arc and Eleanor Roosevelt to geography, history, literature, creative writing or current affairs) “…or would you like to talk about something else?”  Emma wrote, “I want to talk about autism.”  When I asked her what, specifically, she wanted to discuss, she wrote the above letter.

*For all who would like to share Emma’s words with your friends and followers – we ask that you quote a sentence or two with a link back to this blog, and not all her words.  Thank you so much for your support, encouragement and enthusiasm.

Emma ~ 2014

Emma ~ 2014

“Crayons Have Feelings” By Emma

I’m always so excited when Emma tells me “put it on the blog” because my dream has been that this blog will be something she wants to, one day, take over as her own and where she will permit me to, occasionally, make a “guest” appearance.

What follows was Emma’s response during her RPM session to write about something she cares about in a persuasive manner.  She skillfully demonstrates theory of mind, empathy and an abundance of compassion I wish the rest of the world would try to emulate.

                     “Crayons Have Feelings

“The colors are many in a box of crayons.  All over the world people use crayons to make them happier.  It is never used as a way to punish.

“Did you ever think of what the box of crayons felt like when they were opened?

“Notice which colors are used the most.  They are ripped and sometimes broken.  The less popular colors, like brown, look so new they can be displayed in a museum.  Nobody plays with them.  They watch the other colors play and roll with their friends in the mud.

“Brown crayons are lonely.  Red crayons get the most attention.

“You should show the lonely colors on the front of the box.

“Do you have questions?”

I am persuaded,  Emma.

A Box of Crayons

A Box of Crayons