KID KOANS III

When is helping not helping?

How can we tell when our conceptions of our children get in the way of clear perception of our children?

Protect or Trust?

ON WRITING

In all of my classes, especially those on ethics, I teach students about the decision-making processes we must undergo as philosophical thinkers addressing issues and making choices. One of the key pieces of this process is a model I use as a sort of flow chart for figuring out what we know and do not know about a given situation. Presumably, these different pieces of information will combine to give us a more holistic approach to solving the wide range of conundra we broach in class and in our lives.

Some of the questions in the model include:

            What are the facts in this situation?

            What information is missing?

            A la Donald Rumsfeld, are there "unknown unknowns," i.e. things we don't know that we do not know? (Of course there are, sweetie!)
         
             Insofar as we can determine them, what are the assumptions and biases involved?

Are there unconscious assumptions and biases at play as well?

            Who holds the power? Who gets to make the decisions about, on the one hand,

possible courses of action,
             and, on the other,
which information is available/public/”true” vs. which information is privileged/private?    

        
             Who are the stakeholders? Who benefits? Who may not benefit – or be adversely affected?

        
             What is the heart component? How do the parties involved feel?

I try to use these questions when I write, much as I do in teaching.

As far as writing as a spectrum-y writer with my own particular quirks, strengths and weaknesses, I have to also ask myself where that might figure into the equation. For example, last week I attended an “Autism & Asperger’s Expo.” I ran into a colleague there and he looked puzzled to see me. I explained that I have a son who is on the spectrum and who was attending a Pragmatic Language/Social Skills Group located in the same building. At this news, he looked, so far as I could tell, shocked and dismayed. But, as I had barely recognized him in the first place (see: prosopagnosia), I certainly cannot trust my assessment of his expression. I do know for a fact that he said, quite appropriately, “I didn’t know that” – and that’s all I can reliably report.

In another instance, I had incomplete information and told a story that was based on the information I had that in the end was not true to what had actually happened due to missing infomation. This post, about a family who seemed to have been inadvertently “outed” as having an autistic member, really resonated with  people and parents with a variety of personal and family differences as a common aspect of our lived experience. What had actually happened emerged as slightly but significantly different from what I had reported. The server in question, who happens to read this here blog (? I feel honored!), had mentioned to Pardner that – actually! –

1.                          the Dad of the family had been distant, detached and fidgeting with his iPhone most of dinner (therefore he was not suddenly alienated in some way by feeling labeled), and

2.                          the family had itself volunteered the name of the school the son was visiting (and therefore the server had not presumed).

I was chagrined. I spoke about it with a few people, all of whom said stuff like, “Oh, the story’s so true that the facts are almost irrelevant,” or “It’s all relative, anyway.” I (lovingly) disagreed. While it is true that families and individuals with differences can potentially have relatively more challenging interactions than “normal” people, and that this may well have been a painful experience for said family for whatever reason, what really happened really does matter. I take it as my responsibility to make that very clear, in this scenario and beyond.

Information is always partial. As writers, we know this fact full well. Some non-fiction writers even embrace it in pursuit of polemical points. This partiality of knowledge holds for all writing, including that which is considered “objective.” At the same time, I do believe in Truth. There can be unknown or temporarily-disputed facts, and different perspectives on the same truth, but I am not, never have been, never will be a relativist. I am always happy to clarify, or to add other perspectives, whether or not they are in tune with my own, so long as they add to the truth and honesty of a piece. In short, I, along with most writers I respect, aim our endeavors toward truth, at some times getting closer than others…

In this case, the parties concerned were totally bighearted about my getting it not-quite-right: I believe the server’s actual words were, “Oh, I get it! I just don’t want you and [Full Spectrum Mama] to think I am an insensitive bimbo.” Heck to the no.

So, because I know it’s just what everybody was waiting for, I have developed a model for writing creative non-fiction that suits my goals for integrity and transparency:

                              Figure I – Venn Diagram of Ideal Non-Fiction Writing Composition

Full Spectrum Mama is an Anonymous blog, with the vast majority of readers reading from afar. Yet I believe there is a sort of trust inherent in the blogger-reader relationship that I would never intentionally violate by deliberating lying or writing with bad intentions. So I have also crafted this handy diagram of unsavory elements that are never welcome in this blog:

 Figure II – Relativism and Known/Intentional/Conscious Bias en route to Finding Another Blog to Colonize

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

DEAR EVERYONE

This note in Z’s handwriting was in the last round of paper recycling:

“Dear evryone,

how know me

my family thinks that I don’t beylong on this family.

they hayt me”

I brought it up the day after I found it. Obviously lots to talk about. But the first item of discussion regarded the top line(s).

“So…with ‘Dear everyone’…do you think you meant everyone on earth?” I wondered.

She shrugged. Knowing Z, that was quite possible.

We pored over the next line, which neither of us could decipher. And since Z did not remember writing the note, we were left to speculate.

Suddenly Z figured it out: she meant 

“Dear everyone

who knows me”!

Oh, right. That’s all.

“When do you think you might have written this?” I asked.

“When I was mad?”

“Why were you mad?”

“I dunno.”

“Do you think maybe it was because you did something you shouldn’t have done and got busted and had consequences?”

“Maybe.” (Reluctantly.)

“Maybe?”

“Actually…Yes.”

“Do you think you got in trouble because we hate you and don’t think you belong in this family or because of something you – who we love and who belongs in this family - did?”

“Because of something I did?”

“Yes! That’s right!” Then, to be sure, I asked, “Do you ever feel like we hate you or you don’t belong when you are not angry…like if you are sad or even just on a regular day?”

“No!”

But is getting mad really the key issue here? I thought not: “…Honey, do you ever feel upset because you were adopted?”

“No!!!!”…expressed with No hesitation.

“Oh.”

That was a few days ago.

Last night, Z was sent to bed after dinner because of Fresh Attitude toward her brother and mother, despite several extra chances. She had a giant tantrum, with lots of banging and throwing, and then she fell asleep. Later, as I went upstairs to tuck in her brother, I found this note on the landing:

“Dear Mama and [G].

i am relly sorry that I have been Bad for a long time.

i going to triy to be good but i don’t thik i can.

i love you both

[Z]”

The note was heartrending. No one has to my knowledge ever told Z she was BAD! Plus, we always tell her she can do ANYTHING! It didn’t seem to me that she was making excuses  either – she genuinely thought she might well be unable to “be good.”

A thoughtful reader JUST sent me this timely link: http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/07/31/i-do-not-want-my-daughter-to-be-nice/?emc=eta1&_r=0 . We love and celebrate Z’s power; we never ask her to be “nice.” We only ask that she treat the people around her with basic kindness (different from niceness!) and respect. Sure, sometimes this doesn’t happen for a variety of reasons, some of them “normal” and some of them “disordered.” Nonetheless, she’s a terrific kid! How has she come to believe – at least in that moment – that she is fundamentally and irreparably “Bad”? 

Into the night, while practicing meditation, while trying unsuccessfully to sleep, I kept asking myself, “What does she need? Does she need me to be kind and encouraging? Strict and boundary-setting?” I thought of different people I know and how they might approach the situation. Wise people. Clever people.

And then I thought of all the people I know who, like Z, question their place in the world and their own abilities.

For so many of us, the worst struggle we encounter is that with ourselves. I see it with my students all the time: some students start strong and then lose steam without family support or the confidence that they can follow through; others begin with resistance, with the attitude that they lack whatever it takes to learn. It’s not always possible for teachers to reach students in these positions, hard as we may try. Feelings of trust (of self and others) and belonging can be elusive in ways that are positively debilitating, especially for people with questions about their place in their families and peer groups. Ideally, the basis for healthy self-acceptance and –confidence and trust is established at home and in those early relationships

If only I could figure out how to approach Z’s notes and her feelings of not being able to be good, not belonging, being “Bad,” maybe I could spare her the persistence of some of these grueling conditions into adulthood. Unconditional love and acceptance are always the way, right? But does Z need “cut-the-malarky-and-just-be-good-y” unconditional love or “I-acknowledge-your-deep-inner-pain-y” unconditional love? Both? Something else?

…these are among the many questions I asked myself before finally nodding off…

Wouldn’t you know it, all our energy this morning went to getting out of the house, so what I did after all that ruminating was: nothing.

Then, moments ago, I got an email from a family member* suggesting the CTFD Method, which seems enticing (http://jezebel.com/the-ctfd-method-is-the-greatest-of-all-parenting-trends-816536389?utm_medium=referral&utm_source=pulsenews).

Dear everyone

who is reading this 

if you have The Answer, 

please do let us know. 

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

* Who is currently still alive, having sent the link in an all-inclusive group email.

The Finding Fairies

I dedicate this post to my Gram, Merlin Lorene Cunningham Shaffer, 10/20/17-5/22/13. The giant rocks on her tiny fingers from her adoring husband were the LEAST spectacular thing about her. Love you, Gram.

Z has a history of jewelry…interest.

So, when my favorite talismanic rhinestone necklace disappeared, I had a pretty good idea of the perp. I also knew it would do exactly zero good to question said individual. Like, have you ever tried to convince a narcissist of something that doesn’t fit their view of reality? Or tried to get your Tupperware back from – oh, wait, you don’t know her…

Z is the most convincing person you may ever meet. Unless I have 100% conviction to back me up, I don’t even broach any marginal subjects.

In fact, I almost took her to have her hearing checked out because girlfriend is so convincing she doesn’t even hear you if she isn’t tryna hear what you are saying. Over the course of several days her ignoring me and then saying, casually, “Oh, sorry’ [but being, definitely, not sorry] happened so frequently that I became concerned. Schedule a hearing test? Sure, until I realized she was testing me. Cheeky.

Had I asked her about my necklace, the conversation would have gone like so:

“Say, Z, you haven’t seen my special blue sparkly necklace have you”

Wide-eyed: “No.”

[Possibility that cat has batted necklace behind shelf enters mind of mother.] “Okay.” [Result: Daughter knows Mother is not omniscient.]

For contrast, let’s examine an interaction wherein FSM knows the facts with certainty:

The setting is the walk home from school last Friday.

Z announces, nonchalantly, “Mama, Mrs. S said we should tell our parents we are supposed to go to pizza night tonight.”

“Oh, really?” I query, knowing that the event in question is entirely optional – and geared toward the upper elementary classes. “Should I speak with Mrs. S about that?”

“Well, she didn’t really say…I’m not sure what she said, exactly.”

“Did she say you should go to pizza night?”

“…No.”

Did she feel like she was telling the truth when she told me what her teacher said? No. Z admitted she hadn’t been thinking about that (truth), just wanting pizza.

We don’t want our families to live in a climate of suspicion. This is a struggle when a family member has an attachment disorder! I do want to show Z, though, that lying is something that will be discovered and is not an effective means of communication. So, in this sort of context (grey areas of truth) I only want to ask her questions to which I basically know the answers. I don’t want to teach her that she can successfully fool her mother and take things with impunity. 

Also, gimme back my necklace!

Ahem.

Not only was this necklace Most Spectacular, it had been given to me by Swan Ayi to remind me of her friendship during a thorny time. I’d clutched that necklace through a series of “Clutch Pearls!” moments, trust me.

                                            Figure I – Most Spectacular Necklace (circled)

I searched far and wide. I can find anything at any time. Because my house is soooo clean. Not.

It is tiny, though, so there’s not that many places to look.

One day my precious necklace suddenly appeared on my (locked) closet floor, where it had decidedly not been before – and precisely where it might have been slipped under the door by small fingers. 

But, meanwhile, we’d begun a conversation about the existence of “Finding Fairies.” Z’s eleven-year-old brother contends that, “fairies aren’t real, except the tooth fairy,” but we gals felt pretty confident about these FFs.

I decided to do a little experiment.

Z wrote a note to the FFs about my necklace and how it had disappeared. We put it by her bed with some little gifts – flowers, sparkles, etc. The very next morning, there the necklace was!

What does this all mean? Like some other Z/truth conundra, this feels like a grey area I am unqualified to elucidate.

The whole thing, though, did feel a wee bit…fun.

Confrontation avoidance? For once not feeling obliged to Lecture? Something about magic and second chances?

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama