Monthly Archives: March 2012

For Ariane and Others Who Lie Awake at Night

March 28, 2012 By in Community Tags: , , , , , 12 Comments

I like to exercise.

I have been doing so for a decade. I run, lift weights and take yoga classes. In fact, when I went back to work I chose to work at my gym. I believe in the mission and I like the people.

And working out is more than just about maintaining my figure. It’s much more. It’s about wellness, both physical and emotional. When I am in the middle of a cardio workout, and my heart is beating at its fastest, I sometimes imagine the rush of the increased blood flow picking up and sweeping away the loose plaque in my arteries and that every inhale is bringing positive energy into my body. Silly maybe, but I do.

And while I am exercising it’s hard for me to have a bad thought and that’s a good thing because sometimes I can have bad thoughts. Maybe the flood of good thoughts come from the endorphins. I don’t know, but I like it and I can actually feel my brain settle down and my thinking get clearer. When I have something to think through, I will do so while exercising and usually by the end, whatever is on my mind has been worked out. (Pun intended.)

Yesterday’s work out was no exception. In the middle of my cardio, right there on the elliptical machine, I heard the words of the song playing in my ear buds and I made a connection to a comment I received from a mother about one of my posts. The mother, Ariane, had been on my mind. Her words to me about the thoughts that keep her awake at night were honest and poignant and I appreciated her sharing.

She wrote about what I call “the voice.”

Continue reading →

Siblings of Children With Aspergers

March 26, 2012 By in Siblings Tags: , , , , , , 8 Comments

4-year-old Teddy holding 45 minute old Meg.

My daughter Meg is a very cool kid.

She has given me a second, very different mothering experience. She has always been independent and self-sufficient and there were just some situations I didn’t have to worry about her like I had to worry about Ted. For example, I deliberately did not meet the principal of her elementary school because – I DIDN’T HAVE TO. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about her education, it was just that I so relished the normalcy of not having to have ALL THOSE MEETINGS with school like we had to have for Teddy. Maybe I went overboard with the whole never meeting the principal thing, but, oh my, it was SO NICE!

And because she was easy, I tried not to take her for granted. Just the opposite happened actually. She became my sanctuary – my port in the storm. I had fun with her. She was a breath of fresh air. I could relax when we were together.

I also had to look out for her. Four years younger, she was an easy target when Teddy got frustrated. It’s hard to admit, but she was hit, bit, and flat-out tormented by her brother pretty much as soon as she was old enough to walk and consequently able to upset his sense of order. Continue reading →

The Loneliness and Resurrection That Came From Fail

March 23, 2012 By in The K-3rd Grade Years Tags: , , , , , , , 5 Comments

In the last installment of Ted’s 1st grade tale I briefly mentioned how one of the names he had been called by his peers was “sick boy.” I wanted to pull out that story and in a post of its own to tell some of the important details.

The facts:

November 24, 1998

The teacher went to the bathroom. Left a classmate in charge of writing down the name of anyone who misbehaved. The student wrote Teddy’s name on the chalkboard. Teddy said he didn’t do anything wrong so he got up and erased his name.

She rewrote it and he erased it again. She then called him a “sick boy.” Some of the kids laughed. Teddy then started going to each child who laughed and hit them in the face.

The teacher came back.

School called me to come and get Teddy.

He told me he got to three of the eight he wanted to hit. Continue reading →

Set Sail For Fail: 1st Grade, Part Two

March 22, 2012 By in The K-3rd Grade Years Tags: , , , , , , 3 Comments

Okay, so when we last met in Set Sail For Fail: 1st Grade Part One I gave a brief overview of the failure that was first grade. No specifics, just the basics such as “We don’t do that” and “He is just going to have to learn.” Well, here is more detail of how it all went down.

We had 18 problem free days.

This is the first thing that happened.

This letter got sent home because Teddy was working ahead in math.

He was working ahead because this is what was being taught…

And this is what Teddy knew…

And well, this is how the teacher reacted to Teddy being ahead in math. Actually, this is how she reacted to just about everything regarding Teddy…

And when I asked the principal if we could move Teddy to a 2nd grade math class, or at least into another 1st grade class with a teacher we knew he got along with, this is what I heard…

“We don’t do that.”

And there were problems in reading because for three hours each morning the class was learning…
And Teddy, who taught himself to read by four, was occupying himself at home with this. Really….

And just imagine what a seven-year old who likes to read physics thought of a science class where he learned… Teddy had already taught himself this about the Earth’s history…

And when Teddy tried to share with the kids what he knew, this is how they often responded…

They didn’t believe him, and they teased him and called him “weirdo” and “sick boy.”

And often when this happened, he hit them. Not once did the child who called him the name receive any discipline.

He was getting it from all directions and his behavior reflected his total and complete frustration and inability to cope.

So, he started to sleep in class.

And got in trouble for that too.

In early January Teddy and I sat down and we made this list:

THINGS THAT TEDDY GETS MAD ABOUT AT SCHOOL

1. Kids tease me a lot

2. Mrs. Andrews only calls on me 10% of the time

3. In line the kids poke and touch me

4. Mrs. Andrews isn’t always nice

5. School isn’t a fun place to be

6. Mrs. Andrews doesn’t always listen to me

7. But somethings are fun about school such as computers, gifted class and the special education room

8. The kids don’t believe me when I tell them something that is true

9. Sometimes I don’t think Mrs. Andrews likes me

School’s response to his feedback and behavior was to grade how he acted, hourly…

And this is what school worried about, wrote on these charts and punished him for:

Teddy played in the ant pile instead of running laps in PE. He only finished his laps after class was over.

Teddy almost lost his temper at his milk carton. (It wouldn’t open)

In lunch line he got very upset over waiting to get just the exact piece of pizza he wanted.

He took part of his banana and crushed it flat in his hands.

And as the chart said, Teddy had to write out his offenses…

Then one day Teddy tried to run away from school and almost made it out of the building. He told me he “had to get out of there.” Is it any wonder?

This his how the end came:

Friday, January 15, 1999

Stacy (Special Education teacher) called at 1 p.m. for me to come and get Teddy. He had choked a child on the playground. I went to school and took Teddy home.

Wednesday, January 20, 1999

After school Stacy came to our house to talk about Teddy. She asked where we were about getting a psychologist. I told her the one that was referred to us didn’t have an appointment until April. We were then trying to make arrangements to go to a different counselor, one our insurance didn’t cover. $100 for the initial appointment, $70 for each weekly appointment. Not only was this going to be a financial strain, I was reluctant because I felt that a lot of his problems weren’t just those a counselor was going to solve. I felt strongly that much of the anxiety was due to his current school situation.

Stacy discussed Ted be placed in an Emotionally Conflicted classroom.

I countered by requesting an aide.

Thursday, January 21, 1999

Spoke with Stacy in the teacher’s lounge before school started. I mentioned that I found out his counseling could be paid for under Related Services in an IEP and she immediately replied, and I quote, “I didn’t say he NEEDED counseling.”

I asked if Ted could receive help for anger, intolerance and aggression from the school counselor and was told the 1st grade counselor had no training in this area but perhaps the other counselor did. When that counselor called me she said she too had no training with autism but felt the best thing to do was to spank him when he misbehaved. I ended the conversation.

Friday, January 22, 1999

8:20 a.m. Stacy called to say Ted had gotten into trouble. He had gone to his classroom when it had been an IEP decision that he go to the special ed room to avoid the unstructured time in the classroom at the start of the day. He was not sent to special education and a problem occurred. Stacy told me she was not going to be at school that day and that she “could not” prepare the sub to handle Ted and then added, “I can’t always be here to take care of him.” I took him home.

Monday, January 25, 1999

We kept Ted home from school. The relief I felt from not worrying about school calling or what I would hear when I picked him up in the afternoon was so great that…

Tuesday, January 26, 1999

I withdrew Teddy from school.

And I wished I had done it so much sooner.

Next: Our experience homeschooling

Teacher, principal, geological table and laughing kids photos from googleimages.com

Photo Trickery and Contradictory Truths

March 22, 2012 By in Original Photos, Quotes Tags: , , , Leave a comment

A beautiful sunrise…

and a ravaging forest fire.

War is hell, but that’s not the half of it, because war is also mystery and terror and adventure and courage and discovery and holiness and pity and despair and longing and love. War is nasty; war is fun. War is thrilling; war is drudgery. War makes you a man; war makes you dead.

The truths are contradictory. It can be argued, for instance, that war is grotesque. But in truth war is also beauty. For all its horror, you can’t help but gape at the awful majesty of combat. You stare out at tracer rounds unwinding through the dark like brilliant red ribbons. You crouch in ambush as a cool, impassive moon rises over the nighttime paddies. You admire the fluid symmetries of troops on the move, the harmonies of sound and shape and proportion, the great sheets of metal-fire streaming down from a gunship, the illumination rounds, the white phosphorus, the purply orange glow of napalm, the rocket’s red glare. It’s not pretty, exactly. It’s astonishing. It fills the eye. It commands you. You hate it, yes, but your eyes do not. Like a killer forest fire, like cancer under a microscope, any battle or bombing raid or artillery barrage has the aesthetic purity of absolute moral indifference – a powerful, implacable beauty – a true war story will tell the truth about this, though the truth is ugly.

Tim O’Brien, The Things They Carried

While looking at a photo I took of the sun rising at the lake, I accidentally clicked “rotate” and saw the same image very differently. A sun rise, an iconic image of beauty contains within it the very same elements of a destructive forest fire. The experience made me think of the magnificently crafted words of Tim O’Brien that I had just read yesterday.