Showing posts with label college. Show all posts
Showing posts with label college. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 10, 2019

FAILING SAFELY/DARING GREATLY


By the end of August, almost everything I said was making G really, really mad. Could be sulking mad, could be yelling mad; whatever I had to say, he was angry. 

All the time. 

If I said, “Ask yourself if you really need thirds on ice cream,” he’d be enraged, for hours.

“You’ve already watched two movies today, how about taking a break?”: infuriating. 

“Let’s get some fresh air”: seething, at length, with rage. 

Screens, picking up stuff left all over the house, bedtime, laundry, hygiene, homework, manners, state of his room…All were loaded topics. 

One night, after a loooooooong day, I decided it was time to let go. Yep, all at once. It was time for Operation [G] Freedom. 

I didn’t actually even think it through. At all. I just sat down at the dining room table and said, “I’m done. You’re going away to college next year and I’m not going to be there to remind you to sleep, or get exercise, or make good choices. 

“This year is a great time for you to ruin your life in a safe context. So do whatever you want! I don’t want to fight with you anymore and you have to learn this stuff to succeed in life anyway!”

Then I got up and went back into the kitchen to do all the things.

A few minutes later, I heard, in a kind of tiny voice, “Mom? I don’t want to ruin my life.”

“Oh sweetie,” I said, “I don’t mean ruin-ruin your life, exactly. It’s just that the things I tell you that make you mad, those are things that you need to do or not do. So if you do or don’t do them at home, that’s a safe place to fail. 

“I’m hoping you’ll realize for yourself that I’m not nuts or trying to annoy you. And figure out why you need to do certain things, like sleep regularly or not be on your phone 24/7. That way, when you get out on your own you’ll be able to do what you need to do to succeed—like get some healthy exercise and finish your schoolwork on time—without making huge errors in judgment.”

“In fact,” I added, “let’s call it ‘playing college!’”

Now, I don’t think any of this would’ve worked a year ago, or even a few months. I’ve watched my friends whose kids don’t have developmental differences gradually reach this point years ago, but G needed extra time. 

Paradoxically, I'm basically giving him more freedom than many of his typically developing peers currently enjoy. That's because until very recently G didn't seem to have enough common sense or self-regulation to manage the tiny amounts of freedom he was given. Now, he only has this year of high school left in which to practice those skills before leaving for college. 

What he said next showed me he was ready to try. 

“I don’t know if I want that kind of freedom,” G admitted a few hours later. “I think I’m going to use the same parameters you gave me.”

And he has, for the most part. Admittedly with less sleep and more screens, but not so much that he’s messing up in school or in general. (Yet?)

So far, perhaps the most amazing thing to come out of this is a huge shift in our dynamic. G can actually, finally hear me again without taking offense. 

For…years, really, there was a lot of struggle between us over just about everything. Now, because I’m no longer trying to command him—and because he feels respected—he’s able to listen respectfully. 

I’ll make a suggestion from time to time—“At your age, you need 10 hours of sleep a night, so if I were you I’d figure out what time I need to get up and see what is a good time to go to bed”—and then ask, “Does that make sense?”

He’ll usually answer, “Yes.”  

When he resists—“You just had cross country practice. How about a shower?” “Nah”— I simply state a logical consequence—“Well, you’ll be smelly all day”—and move on.

I never, ever claim to have “The Answer.” All families and all individuals are different. For some families, this shift is probably inconceivable (as it was for us not long ago); for others, it’s not on the horizon at all. And who knows, we may need to ease back into more  regulation—it hasn’t been that long!

Also? Don’t get me wrong: I’m scared. Really scared. About ALL the menacing things, for the foreseeable future. But this does seem to be working for our family right now. 


Figure I — Some Of The Menacing Things (not shown: accidental pregnancy, loneliness, driving, unintentionally breaking the law…)

Moving forward, I’m planning to try to stop even making those suggestions. I’m going to dare to allow for the possibility of failure—AND the potential for entirely self-directed success. I’m stepping back so that G can achieve his own kind of greatness on his own terms

That means when he chooses to stay up all night or never, ever do his laundry, or leave random dishes and papers and shoes and books and pens and Magic the Gathering cards (and so on, and on, and on...) EVERYWHERE I am going to stay quiet and let him experience the consequences…Also on his own terms.

That means I can reduce my worrying-about-college time significantly, freeing up time to worry about a bunch of random things for wholesome activities. 

At the same time, I’ve been grappling with ways to help him gain increased responsibility as a fair and natural part of increased freedom. That means picking up after himself more, at the very least, right? Fingers crossed.

Love,
Full Spectrum Mama


Welcome to Voices of Special Needs Blog Hop -- a monthly gathering of posts from special needs bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Mommy Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about having a special needs kiddo -- from Sensory Processing Disorder to ADHD, from Autism to Dyslexia! Want to join in on next month's Voices of Special Needs Hop? Click here!

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Tuesday, January 15, 2019

CONGRATULATIONS/MY HEART JUST BROKE

Dear Persons,

I'm trapped in the kitchen with two beloved friends who are having a conversation that is killing me. Their concerns — top colleges, will they have to pay full tuition or get merit-based scholarships — are so far from mine. And my heart is breaking.

I’m at an intramural basketball game and the people behind me are discussing their kids’ SAT scores. And my heart is breaking. 

I could go on. And on. 

It’s been a struggle to write this post, because I don’t want people to feel nervous about talking to me, and I would NEVER want my son to feel he was a problem or burden or less-than in any way. 

So let’s get a few things clear:
  1. I am happy for you and your child, truly I am.
  2. I WANT you to talk to me and around me, freely.
  3. I understand I am responsible for my own feelings.
  4. I’m extremely, EXTREMELY proud of my kid, who is wonderful and perfect, exactly as he is.

But, as much as all individuals and families have their issues, life raising a child with special needs and/or having special needs in a “normal”/neurotypical world is just not the same as it is for neurotypical/typically abled individuals and families. And it needs to be okay to talk about that — to normalize those feelings and share ways to help ourselves and our kids move toward achievement and success, however we/they define those things.

So I share this heartbreak here — where people with differences and extraordinary challenges, along with their parents and loved ones, gather in community.

Most kids my son’s age are now going to parties, dating, driving, working, doing average or above average or spectacularly on the SATs/ACTs, going to college or about to, even thinking (at least somewhat realistically and practically) about careers. 

While kids on the spectrum usually complete high school, that accomplishment often entails the extended timeframe and/or extra supervision/accommodations/modifications specified by an IEP. 

At the same time — for both parents and kids — it’s somewhat easy through these school years to act as if many differences weren’t really impacting our lives. Everyone has the same schedule, and the same projected schedule, year wise, more or less.

But fewer than 20 percent of adults on the spectrum complete college.

And only 14 percent of adults on the spectrum are employed. 

So much has been written by parents, researchers, and allies about the period of diagnosis. How parents often need to give up their basic, original, often unconscious/taken-for-granted (that is, until brought into question when differences and challenges arise) dreams for their child. And then, how to cope with all that: Ideally, we adjust those dreams, replacing them with new ones.

There's less information out there about how your CHILD can face the potential loss of his/her/their dreams, or how to do so yourself when it’s your own life dreams that may be extremely difficult to attain (or impossible). 

It’s hard to find insights about how people transitioning to adulthood can achieve their basic goals and dreams in the face of extraordinary obstacles, most of which stem from a larger culture that does not necessarily support — never mind celebrate — people who may do things a bit differently. 

And there are a lot fewer resources in general available for adults.

In G’s particular situation, he’s already facing obstacles. Sure, lots of kids won’t get into Cornell, even with lots of hard work. And maybe there are other kids who want to be ornithologists and will have to try extra hard to get there. 

But for him, even dreaming of college is huge — and it will require many, many intricate factors to be wedged into place to even begin the process of moving toward his goals. 

Will his heart break, even a little, as he inevitably confronts his unique challenges?

Maybe less than mine does: He’s been understood, accepted, usefully diagnosed, supported, celebrated in his neurodiversity in ways that my generation largely was not. He’s whole, self-aware, untraumatized.  

We all have our heartbreaks. Just the other day, I thoughtlessly told a childless friend who has struggled with infertility that I couldn’t meet her because of something that came up with my kids. I winced: I could tell I’d thoughtlessly hurt her heart. And I was unsure of what to say or do. 

You know what? I bet that’s how people sometimes feel around me. Or you. 

So I tried to say something loving, understanding, and supportive. 

I guess that’s what G and I would probably like as well; but people are often clueless about this stuff.

So we deal as best we can. Extricating ourselves from some conversations, initiating others (as I am doing here). Being genuinely celebratory of others' success while refusing to let unfair barriers keep us down. Doing the work we need to do to heal, grow, and succeed. Persevering. 

And I’m hoping that when my heart is breaking (which feels frequent nowadays) it’s also cracking open, getting bigger — and thereby creating space for more compassion/wisdom/generosity, more faith in my child, more commitment to my advocacy work. 



In the bigger picture though, the vicissitudes of my heart take a distant second place to  the importance of this amazing neurodiverse young person finding his way in the world. 

Just as I adjusted and grew far beyond my original ideas about my child’s life, I hope he will dream big. And if he ever has to give up one dream, I hope he will replace it with a bigger, better one, one that mitigates any heartbreak. I hope he dares to imagine a world made fundamentally more whole by his contributions…

I wish the same for all of you and yours. 

Love,
Full Spectrum Mama


 Welcome to Voices of Special Needs Blog Hop -- a monthly gathering of posts from special needs bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Mommy Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about having a special needs kiddo -- from Sensory Processing Disorder to ADHD, from Autism to Dyslexia! Want to join in on next month's Voices of Special Needs Hop? Click here!


Tuesday, August 8, 2017

A DISASTROPHE-RESPONSE TEMPLATE

Dear Persons,

Last week, while visiting the Full Spectrum Grandparents, we met a family from Turkey who are living in urban Connecticut. We Full Spectrums were out walking our dog when two young boys called out to us (because our dog is CUTE). The older son, who was about eight, was pretty flappy, and, at first, actually scared of our dog. All of us were encouraging, and after a few minutes he felt more comfortable and bravely gave our pooch a nice pat. At one point, his mother whispered to me, “He has special needs;” “Oh sure,” I said, “So does my son. They are both great kids!” * She told me her son’s name is Emin. 

Just after this encounter, a week before the end of G’s residential summer college-prep program, I called to check in about getting him his crucial medication for a serious tick-borne disease. During the call, I was informed for the first time that the people in his program had concerns about his behavior and listening and that he might not be included in the final trip. This was utterly surprising to both G and me. 

The person with whom I had that awful phone conversation kept alluding to G in ways that vaguely referenced his disabilities, without acknowledging this fact. After my shock wore off, I was both devastated and furious. Are such programs only designed to help those who don’t need help? Are not people on the spectrum or with ADHD worthy of participating in college preparatory programs and attending college? Did they think I would just agree with them that my child was not destined for independence or deserving of their program??? 

Nope.

So I wrote them this letter. My brilliant Meeting Friend helped me. I am sharing it because not every parent of a person with differences or person with differences has access to the professional and legal tools available to this 3/4 white-privileged, educated family. I can only imagine the linguistic, emotional, practical, and other challenges facing less-privileged, less-educated, and/or immigrant individuals and families with differences and disabilities in the current political climate. 

(I should note that while G was in fact excluded from the final trip for “safety concerns” [GRRR!], the program did acknowledge his contributions to the group and his right to continue to grow and improve his skills in their ongoing school year activities.)  

The letter below is intense and quite long. The basic template for what I imagine would be an effective letter in any case would essentially involve:

1. A description of the situation which is as complete and objective as possible.

2. Legal/institutional considerations which are both valid and convincing.

3. An appeal to the shared humanity and worth of all parties involved — particularly regarding those (you, your child) who may be disadvantaged or discriminated against in the context in question and/or in the larger world. 

4. Proactive suggestions for solutions and accommodations.


The below is posted for Emin, and others like him. 



Dear [respectful title for people/institution who are not getting/appreciating/respecting/accommodating my child {you/your loved one/your child}],

I was really shocked to hear from [name] that [G]’s attendance at the final trip is in jeopardy, and that there might even be some question about his participation in future years. 

My understanding from the orientation and written materials was that if [G] kept his grades up (he has) and had been behaving (he thinks he has, and neither of us had heard specifically otherwise), he would be included in the trip. 

My understanding, more broadly, was that [program] is designed to give underrepresented teens a chance to attend college. Whether this regards kids who are challenged by growing up in limited cultural/educational/socioeconomic environments (economically, this fits [G]), children with physical disabilities (not [G], though as you know we've just learned that he has been seriously ill throughout the summer program, and has nevertheless demonstrated amazing courage and character in following through with [program] and not letting his grades falter), or children with other potentially discrimination-inducing differences (race, ethnicity, citizenship status, neurology; yes, [G], in the latter case), [program] is meant to offer hope and opportunity and, indeed, JUSTICE to children and families who might for various reasons not enjoy the de facto college-attendance privileges available to others.

I don't honestly know how [G] could be more enthusiastic and committed to [program]. Getting accepted was one of the best things that ever happened to him - and was largely the result of his own persistence. Participating in [program] has given him all the hope and confidence that are the underlying purpose of your program. Knowing my son, and as a college professor of several decades, I can assure you that his hope and confidence are commensurate with his potential, especially should he be given the tools [program] purports to offer. 

That being said, I have ZERO interest in having [G] - who is exactly the kind of kid [program] should be serving - subjected to being part of a group that is merely tolerating him without actually seeing his pure goodness, as well as his deep intelligence, boundless humor, originality/creativity, and enormous potential [Full Spectrum Mama=nothing if not modest re: her children ;)].  

If you plan to disinclude him, whether in the short or long term, then you need to be extremely clear with him about why this is happening. He deserves feedback, and the help in finding skills to grow that is the very purpose of [program]! You also need to communicate directly with me in writing about any major concerns, which has not happened to date regarding the above-mentioned trip, etc. [G] did have a problem with his phone in the first week -- a problem that surely other teens in the program have had, though they likely hide it better than [G], who is an open book -- but that problem resolved after the first week and [G] has not had any issues with electronics since, at least as far as he or I are aware. [Program]’s college-like experience is atypical for any 9th grader; I'm amazed by the level of independence required and by the ways kids - including [G] - are rising to the occasion. 

You also - should you decide to no longer include him - need to be very careful that your actions do not involve discrimination under the ADA.

[Program] is funded by the United States Department of Education. Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973 prohibits discrimination based on disability in any program or activity operated by recipients of federal funds. Additionally, Title II of the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990 (ADA) prohibits discrimination based on disability by public entities such as [program]. Thus, [program] has an obligation to accommodate [G]’s disabilities and cannot simply dismiss him from the program based on challenges related to his disabilities. Instead, if [G]’s disability is affecting his ability to handle the responsibilities or expectations of the program, [program] needs to work with him and his parents, possibly to establish an appropriate 504 Plan to address his challenges, possibly to simply be a bit more aware and effective in addressing his disability in order to allow him to succeed in the program. 

This could be an excellent learning opportunity for both [G] and the [name] program. Currently, the [program] website does not appear to acknowledge its obligations not to discriminate, and the administration's all-or-nothing attitude towards [G]’s "lack of sufficient maturity" suggests a lack of awareness of the program's clear responsibilities under the law. It also, I think, evinces a sad disregard for the essential purpose of [program].This situation presents an excellent opportunity for all involved to work together to make sure that this wonderful child, a boy who is so full of potential and fits squarely within the [program] mission, is served, as well as to help the [name] program properly accommodate disabled students in the future, as is its clear duty under the law. 

In addition, the life lessons learned from your student participants themselves when ALL bright, motivated students are included are priceless and may well surpass any academic or practical aspect of the program. (Have you truly met [G]? Have you ever met anyone with a bigger heart? I hear from parents frequently how he inspires their children to laugh more, to dream, to be open, to be themselves…[ditto on the modesty…])

To give you a clearer idea of what it means to accommodate a child like [G]with Asperger's and ADHD (both of which were explicitly mentioned in the IEP that was part of his application process), it's useful to understand how his disabilities impact his compliance with the program. [G] loves [program] and very, very much wants to stay and succeed there, and in his mind, he is completely unaware that he has been "failing" (he literally had no idea that he is noncompliant and jeopardizing his continued participation), especially since he has been vigilant in keeping his grades within the (STRAIGHTFORWARD) guidelines. This disconnect is not uncommon with people with Asperger's -- like many people on the autism spectrum, [G] has a deficit in understanding inference and nonverbal communication, so what is perhaps heard by instructors and neurotypical students as a clear mandate may be missed by him altogether or be heard by him as a mere useful suggestion. This disconnect can make him appear remiss or defiant when, in fact, it is plainly disability related, and he has no idea that he is performing poorly... 

Does this mean he cannot contribute meaningfully to, learn/benefit from, and even, eventually, reflect well upon the [name] program, never mind that he should not go to college? I would certainly hope that would not be [program]’s perspective.

An appropriate accommodation might be to use a system that more explicitly conveys to him clearer expectations, gives him immediate notice of any lapse (right in the moment), and includes a clear discussion each time about the consequences of a future similar lapse. For example, vis-à-vis the final trip, he should have been notified very clearly and in the moment about any specific behavior that was putting his participation in the trip at risk, as well as how he might do better in future (as well as, perhaps, how he might make amends). Such an approach would doubtless be helpful to many if not most students! Denying participation seems a logical and appropriate consequence for misbehaving; doing so suddenly with no warning or chance to do better seems both unkind and unjust. 

Similarly, [G] struggles with executive functioning (again, as is common among people with Asperger's and ADHD), but there are many useful tools available to aid him through these challenges as they impact his compliance at [program]. It is my understanding that he has maintained grades in the 80s without his usual accommodations (and despite illness) so perhaps further discussion of this aspect of his disability is unnecessary; however, if it would be helpful, I welcome the opportunity to further discuss [G]’s disabilities and an appropriate accommodations plan to make [G]’s participation less frustrating for you and more successful for all involved. I am sure [G] himself would be more than eager to do the same. 

Lastly, while I understand that [program] does not have a nurse -- and [G] is sufficiently aware of the gravity of the necessity of taking his twice-daily antibiotic -- it seems intractable, as well as a violation of the legal requirement to accommodate disability-related challenges, that you are unwilling to ask a staff member to assist [G] in remembering to take his medications because "it might cut into their meal time." As I mentioned, he has disability-related executive functioning challenges which could possibly make remembering to take all of his medication a stretch, and he has an extremely serious illness that has a disturbingly alarming prognosis if the antibiotics regimen is not followed properly. I  ask that you accommodate [G]’s disability-related executive functioning challenges by assigning a staff member to check in with him twice a day (he needs to take a pill around 8am and 8pm)  and remind him to take his antibiotic. This basic check-in should take one or two minutes, max.

Please advise me by email (or in writing) as soon as possible whether you will honor this reasonable request.

Finally, please also let me know at your earliest convenience whether you are able to guarantee that you are going to treat my son fairly and give him a chance to make things right and participate fully in [program]. I will not bring him to the bus in the morning or to the campus until I hear from you. He is excited about this week, so I hope that will be very soon.

Sincerely,
[Full Spectrum Mama]


Dear readers, please feel free to cut and paste any part of this letter and fill in your own specifics to further efforts toward inclusion and advocacy.

Love,
Full Spectrum Mama



* I don’t love the term “special needs,” but it was used lovingly by both of us.






Welcome to Voices of Special Needs Blog Hop -- a monthly gathering of posts from special nee
ds bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Jenny Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about having a special needs kiddo -- from Sensory Processing Disorder to ADHD, from Autism to Dyslexia! Want to join in on next month's Voices of Special Needs Hop? Click here!