MIDDLE SCHOOL ORIENTATION -- THEN AND NOW

Dear Persons,

We remember our most terrifying life experiences all too well, right? 

My first Middle School Orientation as a parent was one such moment for me. 

My son, “G,” is now 16. He is a super smart, autistic, kindhearted 10th grader. 

My daughter, “Z,” is 12. She is allistic, very, very clever, and has some residual attachment-disordered behavioral traits that actually serve her well in her brutal 6th grade milieu. 

Four years ago, I attended G’s Middle School orientation. This spring, I attended Z’s. The differences between the two experiences were remarkable: 

Then: Abject terror for my child.

Now: Mild concern for other kids since, how shall I say this, Z and her friends are “still developing this skill” of the skill of empathy. 

Then: Both children sitting with me. I'm so tense that my little guy — not the most observant kid on earth — is sensing my alarm, and my little gal — showing her rare and dear soft side — is noticing the tears streaming down my face; trying to keep it together for them and for my own dignity, such as it was. 

Now: Sitting solo. G at another event. Z up on the balcony with her girl posse, all small but mighty. Scornful expressions masking…nervousness? Nah. 

Then: Tears.

Now: Yawns. Have already seen this presentation. Plus, not worried. 

Then: Curiosity tending toward fretting: Will these new teachers really see my child? Will he succeed here on his own terms? Will my child be bullied during this awkward time of life? Will G’s learning differences be scaffolded in such a way that his intelligence can shine? 

Now: Curiosity, pure and simple: What will those teachers I was in close contact with for G think when they meet Z? Will my child be actively kind to “different” kids like her brother? Will Z make an effort to do better if getting decent grades is easy for her? Will her developmentally appropriate “attitude” be toned down in class? In the lunchroom?

Then: All-out trepidation about the changes, from multiple classrooms to teacher-specific homework assignments.

Now: Relief, knowing I won’t have to intervene or oversee Z constantly—vis-à-vis homework or anything else. 

Then: Organizing Team Friendly Face.

Now: Admonishing (“Please try to look a bit less haughty — there are students here who feel intimidated and scared”).

Then: Praying.

Now: Sighing. 

My special “expertise” has always been around having two very different kids, but these four-years-apart experiences encapsulated that reality for me in the most striking way. It’s nice to see in this latest iteration that from time to time I am able to avoid having a total panic attack when a total panic attack is not warranted (I’ve wondered about that). 

Then: Despite all that, my kids are alright. More than alright! 

Now: Ditto!

Then and now, I am grateful for these two precious beings and for the ways we all persist in growing and trying, together. 

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 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!

An InLinkz Link-up

HIGH SCHOOL PRAYERS

Dear Persons,

This post is a sequel to MIDDLE SCHOOL PRAYERS. I revisited that post while preparing this one, and found that it’s pretty much 100% still relevant.

Similarly, I would use the same disclaimer: basically: please feel free to substitute institutions (workplace? family? elementary school?), gender (I’ve occasionally written “he” because the child in question is my son, but I mean these prayers to be INCLUSIVE), labels, and language (God? Great Spirit? Goddess? People?) that feel right to you if you feel moved to share these prayers.

Dear Universe,

Thank you for my child’s safe passage through Middle School with our sanity relatively intact. If it’s not too greedy, I would like to add on to my Middle School Prayers list. Following, please find a number of additional Prayers more specific to High School:

1. May my child not get lost in a larger setting. 

2. May my child not get anybody pregnant (for biological                 girls, please substitute “get pregnant”).

3. May I dole out the RIGHT amount of freedom to                     my child.

4. May my child always know deep down how much he                   (she) is loved.

Pretty simple requests -- and all probably shared by most parents and guardians of High Schoolers-to-be, right?

Yet, as a parent of a child on the autism spectrum with sensory processing differences (SPD), each Prayer has multiple layers for my family, as they must for so many families with significant differences. Please, dear readers and dear Universe, allow me to elaborate –

1. About the not-getting-lost bit. My child is one of the deepest, smartest people I know. He can read ANYTHING. But write? Not so much. Focus? Similar, unless we are discussing a special interest. Dyspraxia, SPD, and a general lack of executive function make mainstream school environments and requirements highly challenging for my child.

Add in a major life transition, a much larger student body, and MUCH less in-class paraprofessional support, and we have what feels to me like a perfect recipe for my child getting lost, falling between the cracks, getting shunted through...

During the High School Transition Meeting, when his case manager kept saying, “We see that all the time” to concerns raised by his Middle School Team, it did feel reassuring, but it also felt like G was being stereotyped. Like any child, G is an individual and I hope for him to continue to be seen as one in High School. I’m not sure yet what “success” will look like for my G – will he reach his academic potential in this setting? will he want and/or be able to go to college? – but I want him to have the chance to reach for it. I want him to know he is known.

Dear Universe, may our children find their own healthy, rewarding ways of learning, growing, and interacting in High School. May they be treated fairly, and may they be accepted and cared about for who they truly are by staff, teachers, and their fellow students.

2. Re: pregnancy.You know how all teenagers have lots and lots of hormones and very, very little sense? Well, imagine all the hormones with way less sense than that, even. Kind of makes ya nervous, right?

Then, dear Universe, we are on the same page. May our children have the opportunity to continue being children just a while longer, please.

3. Freedom. The vast majority of parents fully expect their children to be independent at some point. A small minority know with certainty that their child will never live on his or her own. We are in-between, and it’s a tough place to be. I want to do right by my child, who is still in the very beginning stages of developing life skills like judgment, executive function, common sense, perseverance. I want to respect him – and he’s very worthy of that respect, with all his wonderfulness and brilliance and perfection (said his mom). But I also need to make sure he doesn’t make irredeemable mistakes while these life skills are still emerging. And I need to be vigilant for the long term should some of those skills never emerge.

The transition into High School feels like the first time I will really, finally need to begin to actually figure out how our family will tackle these weighty issues.

Will G ever drive? I’m not sure. Should he? Probably not, at least any time soon! (I didn’t drive until my late thirties...) Will he desperately want to? Probably.

Will G ever be able to live on his own? Probably not without some help, whether from a case manager or partner. But I am not sure! He’s surprised me before with huge developmental and personal growth. I know he envisions an independent life for himself, but I also know he has no idea what that would entail. I’ll need to begin looking into guardianship options fairly soon if it seems like he won’t live on his own.

There are significant financial resources for some people with some disabilities. Would G feel insulted by the suggestion that he cannot create his own success on neurotypical world terms or glad to be able to focus on his interests? The huge part of me that has enormous respect for G dreads even raising this matter with him. Yet...when he tells me things like “there’s no reason to cut toenails” or I watch him approximate his idea of how a chore really should be done – and he has many original ideas about regular stuff like this every day – I cannot imagine him keeping a job or household. If he doesn’t “get it,” he’s not interested – so I imagine the key in the long term will be for him to be invested in daily life in such a way that such things as cutting toenails (and other hygiene matters), paying bills, putting in time earning a living, etc. will make sense and feel compelling to him on a level where he can achieve these basic skills. Here’s hoping High School will instill some good habits in this regard.

And then there’s the question of what will happen to him after I am gone if he can’t live on his own post-High School and into adulthood, which is the deepest, most constant fear of all of us with children (including grown children) who can’t necessarily navigate the neurotypical world in typical ways.

Whew – I am glad High school is four years long!

Dear Universe, may my child always have a safe home – where he learns, where he lives - where he is free to be himself.

4. On Love: Recently, my behavior generally gets interpreted by my teen in one of two ways: I am either invasive and embarrassing (smothering) or I’m uncaring and have hurt his feelings (abandonment). I can’t win. This is developmentally appropriate (see above hormones, lack of sense, etc.), but the combination of extra social and academic challenges he will experience make his feeling consistently loved even more of a priority. This, even as his interpretations and perspective are inflected by different ways of interpreting/perceiving my intentions, feelings, and actions - and those of others around him. It remains to be seen how this dynamic will play out in High School.

Dear Universe, despite his developmentally-appropriate sour attitude and unique, quirky ways of processing interactions, may my child know he is loved – enormously – exactly as he is as he makes his way into and through High School.

Dear Universe, for all the children privileged to be going back to school, and for ALL children, I wish these good things and more.  

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

Welcome to the Sensory Blog Hop — a monthly gathering of posts from sensory bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Jenny Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about what it’s like to have Sensory Processing Disorder and to raise a sensory kiddo!

An InLinkz Link-up

FOURTH ANNIVERSARY LISTS III: CHOOSING YOUR BATTLES

Dear Persons,

We only have so much energy in life. In my last post, THE FULL BUCKET, I wrote about what happens when that energy is all used up. Choosing your battles is one way to ensure you avoid getting so drained that you are no longer able to function well...

This year, I will give two simple examples from the Full Spectrums: Armpits versus Teeth, and Grades versus Manners.

Choosing your battles doesn’t mean you abdicate any discussion of or efforts toward other areas of life – it just means you reserve your mightiest strength for those areas that seem most deeply important for yourself and/or your loved ones.

Here are two choices I’ve made for us:

            1. ARMPITS VERSUS TEETH

Middle schoolers stink. Even with deodorant. Especially if you start with the crunchy granola natural stuff. We are on the Old Spice Ultra-Chem Turbo Level by this point but it only gets applied, shall we say, intermittently. You see, my G has very, very little interest in hygiene. So if I want to be sure he is doing something hygiene-related, I have to supervise.

I stopped brushing teeth with G about a year ago, trusting that he would take responsibility for this important matter. We found out the hard way last fall – when he had to go under general anesthesia to have a tooth pulled --  that he was not ready to brush his teeth alone. Now we brush our teeth together again, with him leading. Ten brushes in each spot. This is non-negotiable.

Sure, I ask G to put on deodorant and ask him if he has done so...but with my limited time and energy, sometimes deodorant doesn’t happen. Tooth brushing does.

Always.

            2. GRADES VERSUS MANNERS

How many talks do your children really want to listen to? Z is one of those people who is able to excel at anything she cares to excel in...So her consistently getting all threes (“meets grade level expectations”) on her report card is...unexpected. Sure, I’ve talked with her about this – quite a bit.

But I reserve my most heated, heartfelt talks for the area of what I call “real manners” (i.e. the manners that are about kindness and respect, not the right fork). Because Z has grappled with an attachment disorder since she came home, she’s always had issues with feeling she doesn’t have enough, and with control. These factors come into play frequently when it comes to sharing and treating others with basic respect.

I know Z is a tough cookie who will always make her way successfully in the world, so I don’t lecture too, too much on grades and hard work. But for her to feel good inside -- and for others to feel comfortable around her -- she needs to learn to act with “real manners” in heart and mind. This, like tooth brushing, is non-negotiable, so I save my heartiest lectures for this subject.

Because I am not at her all the time about certain other stuff (grades, etc.), we are both able to be more fully present in this important, healing arena.

We are all works in progress. It matters that we take a little time to see where our efforts can be most effective – and to ponder what we most value.  This can vary, of course -- the key is to take a step back and determine which battle you will choose.

The next and final anniversary post will be the most popular, putrid  post of the year: THE COMPLAINT DEPARTMENT!!! We at FSM are a leetle behind this year on account of because life, so there’s still time to get your COMPLAINTS in!

Thanks and love,

Full Spectrum Mama

TEAM FRIENDLY FACE AT HIGH SCHOOL ORIENTATION

Dear Persons,

Team Friendly Face (links: http://fullspectrummama.blogspot.com/2014/05/team-friendly-face.html and http://fullspectrummama.blogspot.com/2014/06/team-friendly-face-update.html), convened at the beginning of Middle School, was represented the other night by a few friendly faces as I walked apprehensively into the orientation for parents of incoming ninth graders.

The auditorium was significantly less full than I would have expected, given the size of the incoming class of first year high school students. To this casual observer, it emerged that there were basically two types of parents who chose to attend this event. Both sets looked keyed-up, nervous. But one set looked excited, too, whereas the others, my Friendly Face peeps, looked TERRIFIED. We know how hard transitions can be for our kids, both for individual reasons, such as anxiety around new things, executive function challenges, and so on, and for larger-scale reasons, such as the inevitable jostling and alienation that come with new social situations and groups. (Guess who’s usually targeted in high stress situations? People who are different? Yup.)

The future  AP parents, the ones who indeed legitimately signed the Honors English agreement that was in the million-page high school transition packet – the Honors English permission form that I’d signed because, why not? Hey, my kid is GIFTED, and...um...honorable – kept asking questions about things like “prerequisites for calculus.” The rest of us cringed, kept quiet. Sure, the school administration and teachers seemed welcoming and nice, but we all knew our kids might need a slightly different – probably more extensive - set of guidelines.

After the presentation, I felt shellshocked. Team Friendly Face member J came over to me, crying. I felt a migraine descending. We tried to prop each other up. Team Friendly Face members K and C reminded themselves and us that our future ninth graders have such a gift for finding the good in every situation. That our fears don’t always manifest – and often go blissfully unshared by our children...

Then my shy, sometimes uncertain, Team Friendly Face friend J walked up to the Special Education representative and, before my eyes, turned into an articulate, assertive Warrior. While I stood mutely by, gazing through narrowed eyes, trying not to sway or vomit (migraines are fun like that), she introduced herself (and me), asked some really smart, important questions, and just basically advocated her butt off for her son. I was so proud of her! And a bit ashamed that I’d just written a whole post on advocacy...But then sometimes we need to lean on others when it gets too much. I was super grateful for those Friendly Faces at this event! I know I will be getting plenty of chances to advocate in the next few months and, thanks to J, some of my questions have already been answered.

   

It was also a comfort to know I could jot down some reflections on this ordeal in my 300-page and growing Full Spectrum Mama draft file. I publish only a fraction of my writing, but somehow the luxury of writing things down, along with the opportunity to process this writing provides, and then – when appropriate, when I have the time to polish the writing, etc. -  I am grateful to be able to have a part in the wonderful blogosphere phenomenon of letting others know they are not alone.

That being said, I’ve always seen THE COMPLAINT DEPARTMENT as a place where ANYONE can share their experiences. I will be publishing a plethora of COMPLAINTS in the upcoming yearly post. Please email me your tisk-tisks, your triumphs, trials, tribulations, tales of woe and so forth at jineffable@gmail.com. 

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

MIDDLE SCHOOL PRAYERS REVISITED, REVISITED

I take it all* back. I am terrified.

Universe, please watch over and protect our bumbling, quirky, not-so-grown-up, growing up children as they head back into the fray.

Thanks and love,
Full Spectrum Mama

* http://fullspectrummama.blogspot.com/2015/08/middle-school-prayers-revisited.html

MIDDLE SCHOOL PRAYERS, REVISITED

As people and as parents some of us are lucky enough to have a perfectly generous level of empathy for others as well as a balanced perspective on events. Others of us learn to understand others’ feelings and have perspective on our own lives the hard way(s).

Last year saw G’s heretofore good grades plummet, but he was accepted and happy at school. It was clear that G had chosen, consciously or un- to put all his energies into that realm of his life that had for so long been an area of suffering. For a “typical” parent with an academically gifted kid this would be a disastrophe but the perspective and experience I’ve gained (kicking and screaming) about my kid show me that a decline in grades is a small price to pay for the gains he’s made in confidence and self-esteem.

By the end of last year, G’s team had begun to identify effective strategies for executive function and focus in order to improve his academics; and I am very much hoping we can bring more balance between the social and the academic this year in 8^th grade. That’s going to be a tall order, but at least I am only mildly terrified this year. (Sure last year was a social success, but there can be so much drama in middle school, for middle-schoolers of all persuasions, and peer-group rejection is so common.)

Here are two posts I wrote around this time last year, in case they are of use to any readers:

            This one is about my deep terrors for my son as he entered Middle School:

                        MIDDLESCHOOL PRAYERS 

This one is about trying to find other kids who might be extraordinarily challenged entering Middle School:

                       TEAM FRIENDLY FACE 

And here’s an inspiring thought from a VERY WISE Dad I know and love, from his facebook page (posted with permission, lightly edited for anonymity); it helps me remember that I know my child and I know what he is capable of...:

Happy birthday to my son [name]. Apologies for this post, son, but “I had to say it.” The year that he was age 3 I was on lecture tour. In Indiana he was the only black child in childcare. After my talk a teacher said, “I’m sorry to tell you, sir, but your son is slow.” The next week in New Hampshire a different childcare teacher said, “Wow! Your son is brilliant.” I’d already played a significant role helping parent my three much younger brothers and [name] is my second son. I knew he was blessed. Now he has a bachelor’s from Princeton and both a Ph.D and J.D. from the University of Virginia. At no point did I give permission to some stranger to define my child (or his 3 brothers). If you’re a parent, grandparent, teacher, friend... I suggest you follow the same route. You have to nurse greatness to find greatness.

Obviously, blessings and greatness come in all stripes and do not necessarily mean academic blessings and/or greatness, but I plan to nurse the academic aspect of my son better this year, along with his great heart -- and I plan to make sure the rest of his team does the same.

Wishing all parents and students and teachers and staff many blessings for a smooth transition into this next school year. People who are already fully-equipped for school should not be posting that on facebook and making the rest of us feel inadequate.

Remember, if we do not believe in – and nurture! -- the unique greatness of our loved ones and children, who will?

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

SPD, ASD, ABC, DEFD....

Please note: this post is part of the Sensory Blog Hop, which is sponsored by the fabulous Jenny (what a great name!) over at The Sensory Spectrum and The Jenny Evolution. I accepted the invitation to participate as a way to get more exposure for FSM, but it has become a wonderful, inclusive, helpful community for all us SPD Blog Hoppers. Please do click on the links below for fresh and inspiring perspectives and meet some very worthwhile new pals.

When my little fella started seventh grade this fall, I very nearly had a nervous breakdown. 

However, it seems to be going very well..socially...which is...a surprise.

And then there are his grades. Which are terrible.

You see, his ASD and SPD are a big part of his DEFD and this causes a decline in his ABCs.

Get it? No? Please allow me to break it down:

ASD officially stands for Autism Spectrum Disorder. I don’t like “Disorder,” so I end the phrase with Difference. G is on the Autism Spectrum. He’s autistic in the way that used to be officially called Asperger’s.

Among other things, this means G has challenges in the social realm.

SPD officially stands for Sensory Processing Disorder. I do the same here, calling it Sensory Processing Differences. G has sensory processing differences, as most people on the spectrum do, as many people in his biological family – including me – do…

Among other things, this means that G is extraordinarily neurologically and sensorially sensitive in certain ways, while in other ways he may seem “undersensitive.” Put another way, the systems of people with SPD tend to pay more or less attention to feelings and sensory input than is “normal.”

Each person with SPD is different. (Sometimes when one area seems “undersensitive” it is because an individual with SPD is already overwhelmed from “oversensitivity” in another area!)

DEFD stands for Determinants of Executive Function and Dysfunction. Executive Function – the ability to process and enact a series of thoughts and actions in an effective way -  has never been a strong point for G. This fall, his already low levels of EF took a major dive.

So did his grades – his ABCs, if you will.

The way I see it, these acronyms and what they represent in my G (and others) are all intimately connected: Each person has a given amount of energy. When it takes More energy just to function socially, resources available for other aspects diminish.

I figure there’s only so much G to go around, and, currently, it’s almost entirely being utilized in this area of Social Skills -- which has been a lifelong challenge for him.

                       Figure I – Allocation of Energy Pie Chart                

He's enjoying seventh grade (?!)  – and “extremely popular.” I should note that from what I can see and from what G tells me (limited!) this all seems to be happening on G’s terms, that is to say he is popular and liked For Himself, the quirky and brave kid that he is [sniff!].  Given this turn of events, I pooh-pooh EF and the desire for As (…and Bs…).

For now.

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

An InLinkz Link-up

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!