THE MEGA MASTER

Two weeks into this semester of Comparative Religion, a student called out at the end of class, “Dr. [Full Spectrum Mama], this is kind of a funny question but…are you [G]’s mom?”

It turns out that this fellow was one of G’s counsellors at a wilderness camp he attended this past summer. Because they hike up into the woods for camp, I hadn’t met some of the counsellors (the ones who were waiting mysteriously up at the Hogan every day).

My student, having watched me for two three-hour classes, said I “look and act exactly like [G],” so he “just had to ask.”

This gave me so much hope, because I am – despite my differences or because of them or some mixture thereof – totally fine. I don’t worry about me. But I DO worry about my son. And sometimes people think I over-identify with him, but this is because 1. I get him – profoundly, and, 2. I want him to be okay in the end, as I am.

I always tell people I was almost exactly like G at his age, but female, and people who’ve known me only as an adult don’t believe me, basically because they think G is  “more autistic” than they think I would have been. But I know, and I remember.

Heck, forget being “okay like I am” I would like to see – and do, often, see – G as being okay in different ways. And I would love for G to surpass me in the neurological department and anywhere else. Isn’t any parent glad to see their child out-do them? It seems like that would be a very visceral survival thing. Differences are welcome and celebrated in our family as well! When I see Z shining in her acrobatics class, doing things I can’t even imagine doing, I am beyond proud.

In addition to neurological and physical differences, we need to take into account temporal differences: when people presume that G will stay just as he is, rather than growing as I have and then some, I find it highly botherous.

In any case, G’s strengths and challenges resonate deeply with me, though I always try to respect his separateness and unique personhood. I currently am having an opportunity to distinguish between us in a major capacity, because…

The beginning of Middle School has been a breeze.

…Did I even just write that?

I have spent the last two to twelve years (depending on how you measure it) worrying about Middle School for my son -- at first because Middle School is usually dreadful; later, and in this mode much more assiduously, because of his social challenges.

Seventh grade was a low point in my life. There are a variety of reasons for this, but my social challenges would rank up there near or at the top. I was so painfully shy in my new school that I was unable to say hi to people. I didn’t want to insult them by implying that they knew me. But people took this as my being snobby! And that’s just one example!

Trust me - it was ghastly.

G has had some challenges, to be sure. The adjustment to lockers was…epic, and most of my concerns in Middle School Prayers remain relevant.  But the bottom line is he walks out of school every day waving casually: “Heeeeyy, so-and-so,” “Yo, dudette”…And people…reply?

Is Middle School better than it used to be? How can isolating children in one place at their most antisocial, brutal stage, while combining students from several elementary schools so that they are naturally forced to jockey for position and, therefore, usually, inclined to identify scapegoats, ever be good?

My seventh-grader rates every day an 8 or 9. His innate positivity?...Cluelessness? New and improved brand of Middle School?  I’m surprised – but I’ll take it!

As G headed to school today, his hands were wrapped in a homemade “Mega Master Mega Evolution” Bracelet for his imaginary Pokemon (Figure I).

          Figure I - "Hey Pokemon fans out there: this is [G], the Mega Master!" (Caption courtesy of G)

“[G],” I said gently, “you might want to leave that at home.”

“No way, mom. [Friend A{awkward, sweet guy}] and [Friend B{goofasurus maximus darling boy}]* will like it, and I don’t care about anybody else.”

I am so proud, and relieved beyond measure. Now what should I think about?

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama


* That's, count 'em, two friends. Two friends! 

GRADUATION

Today is my son’s last day in elementary school. G graduates – with a formal ceremony and all -  from sixth grade this evening. He has grown more in the last year at his new school than I ever could have expected.

His confidence has soared in this diverse environment where he is no longer the “different” kid.

He can hit a wiffle ball. With a bat!

Yesterday, no less than “seven girls” deemed him "good boyfriend material."

Who is this self-proclaimed "popular kid" with sportsability (okay, let's not go too far, but he might not be the last person picked -- and that's not nothing!) and a modicum of social ease (in certain contexts)?

For one thing, he's the once-doting son who now answers my every utterance with a groan of "mo-o-om" -- before I even finish:

"Clean your --"

"Mo-o-om…"

"Finish the--"

"Mo-o-om!"

"Want some--"

"Mo-o-om…"

"Well, I was gonna say, ‘Want some cookies…’"

"[Grunt]."

The distance between the earnest, affectionate “Mama” of the always-cherubic child (am I blacking something out? Nah…) and the grunts and moans of the sullen tween is – infinite.

Yet he's still the guy who thinks he wants to stay up a little later “because I’m a big kid now,” and who falls asleep with his nose in a book, and, then, sleepily opens his arms wide for a snuggle when I come to tuck him in…

He’s still a guy with a lot of challenges ahead of him in middle school and life, but he feels really good about right now. Who wouldn’t, with “about twenty friends”????

Graduation. How did this go so fast? It’s certainly not a new or original story, but, like any rite of passage, it feels big to those of us involved. We’ve got his tie tied and his shirt pressed and hanging in his closet at the ready. In ways I could not have imagined a year ago, G himself is ready.

But I am not.

Stand with me, my friends, even those readers I’ve yet to meet. I’ll be the one bawling while my horrified son tries to avoid me in the school gym tonight.

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

TEAM FRIENDLY FACE -- UPDATE

I met with the head of Special Education at our Middle and High Schools yesterday, and -- after she invited me to join the local ASD task force (whee!) -- she agreed to pass this email along to families through the necessary channels. We realize that so many families are overwhelmed, but I am hoping to get some response. We are all about TEAM FRIENDLY FACE!

Here is the email:

Dear Families,

It occurred to me at the orientation meeting for families with students entering [our Middle School] with support from the Special Education team that it might be helpful and beneficial for our 7th graders to have some additional "Friendly/Familiar Faces" to encounter in the halls and classrooms next year. 

Would anyone be interested in maybe meeting up for a picnic, one on one, or as a group? At the pool? Or just getting together in whatever way suits your family? 

The transition to Middle School can be hard on most children. But our children face additional challenges. This might be a way to give them just a little more in the way of positive connections as they enter 7th grade. My son is the type of kid who others think is "different" and sometimes has a hard time fitting in. But he is a WONDERFUL, friendly person and would befriend anyone who needed a friend regardless of "difference." 

I would be happy to be the contact person/organizer on anything that seems promising in this area, over the summer and into the school year.

Thanks so much for your time,

[Full Spectrum Mama (G's mother)]

Stay tuned for the Sensory Blog Hop next week - lots of famous, fabulous sensory bloggers blogging sensorially!

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama