No es "La tish ah" como la familia Addams. Es "Lay tis ee ah." Leticia es mi maestra de espanol para personas de escuela.
Whew! That was exhausting.
Let me say this is another one of those posts that comes with a warning. If you have problems with bilingual public education, immigration, etc....keep on moving. Totally respect your right to an opinion, just not feeling it. Sorry. Still with me? Okey dokey smokey. Here we go!
I am at a bilingual school. Half the day is taught in English and the other half in either Spanish or French. Most of the teachers are bilingual. No hablo espanol mucho. You can probably figure out that it's a problema if the language impaired child you are working with does not speak the same language as you. It is also difficult to build relationships and gain the confidence of families when they have no idea what you are saying. What I like most about being a speech therapist is that I have the opportunity to work with students in such small groups that I get to know a lot about them. When I came to this building, I knew that I needed to learn at least some Spanish if I wanted to do the kind of job I like to do. I am very fortunate that my district has wonderful opportunities for a variety of continuing education courses. One of them is an 18 hour Spanish for school personnel class. It's not going to make me bilingual, but I'm on week four and here is what it has done for me. (Almost feel like I should say "Hooked on Spanglish worked for me!")
I am required to have at least one meeting a year with the parents of my students. These parents work at least one job, sometimes two. They do not necessarily have one car, let alone two. Many are wage workers. If they take off work, they don't get paid. When there is a meeting, they come. Anybody who works in a school knows what a big deal that is. If you don't work in a school, just take my word for it. These are interested parents. When people sacrifice so much and show such appreciation for their child's education, I hate not being able to call them myself to set the appointments. When I work with one of their kids, I hate feeling like I'm not able to really understand what they do or don't know.
I have completed four of my Spanish classes. They are so way worth it!
First of all, we don't just learn words and phrases. We learn about the Spanish language in general and how it compares to English. We also learn about culture. This has already been very helpful for me because I could think of several children who were not making certain sounds in English. Now I know they don't make them because they are unfamiliar with them. They don't need therapy, just a little more time. The cultural and language information has already changed how I write reports and explain things to families. It is also helpful in thinking about how to approach early intervention and response to intervention (RtI.)
This morning, I observed a little guy who doesn't know a stitch of English yet. His worksheet was pluralizing nouns ending in y. I was able to guide him in Spanish about how we change the y to an ie and then add s. Being able to explain it in Spanish gave me the opportunity to see that he is capable of picking things up very quickly with minimal assistance. Hola receptive language, so happy to see you!
That little exchange went so well, I decided to try a bigger challenge.
I needed to set up a meeting with a family with one bilingual parent and one who only speaks Spanish. I could have just taken the easy way out by calling the English speaking parent. The ELL coordinator also offered to call for me. I said "No!" I was going to try it myself. I had already developed a relationship with the family, so they know all about my Dora the Explorer abilities. I knew if I screwed up, they would be very nice about it. I called the cell for the Spanish speaking parent and said my name, title, where I was calling from, why I was calling, the date and time I wanted to have the meeting and that the teachers would be there too. I called the other parent afterwards just to make sure I said it right. Guess what? I did! Yeah me!!!
The day ended with conferences. Those earlier successes built my confidence enough that I started speaking broken Spanish and spanglish to anyone who was unfortunate enough to cross my path. Loved it.
Like I said, this class is 18 hours outside of the school day. It required me to find additional childcare. Leticia, thanks for making it all worthwhile.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Martini
The person not the drink.
I had a friend who was one of three daughters. She said that her dad's favorite saying was, "Just because you're girls, doesn't mean you have to act like it!"
Martini, I am thankful that you can have two X chromosomes without being a girl. It's a relief to have a friend like that in the midst of the insanity.
I had a friend who was one of three daughters. She said that her dad's favorite saying was, "Just because you're girls, doesn't mean you have to act like it!"
Martini, I am thankful that you can have two X chromosomes without being a girl. It's a relief to have a friend like that in the midst of the insanity.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Teri
I walked into a what was supposed to be a consult with one of my SLP buddies in the district and ran into Teri. Yeah!! She is one of Sam's autism peeps. I can't remember how many years ago she jumped on the fast moving Sam train. She wasn't an original passenger. Maybe 4 or 5 years? Anyway, I knew her before I was a speech therapist.
Said it before, I will say it again, school speech pathologist is a hard job. I doubt myself constantly. Talking to Teri today was as invigorating as our weather.
We talked about autism and theorized why kids on the spectrum have difficulties with names based on what we know to be true about the disorder and learning patterns. We talked about communication devices and language systems. We talked about who benefits from categorical based language systems and why. Then moved on to the kind of person who benefits from core language based layouts. We talked current research related to the topic and evaluated that research. Research. Mmmmmm. I love research. It's like chocolate and candy on Valentine's day. We also talked about my new passion, transition. At which point I asked her (okay, demanded) she tell the powers that be I NEED to do a presentation for families about the topic from the parent perspective with a dash of professional knowledge at HER place of employment.
Teri complimented me on my knowledge base and that ability to understand the perspective of a non-verbal person with autism. She actually asked me, really asked, "Where did you learn what you know?" because she wanted to send other people there so they could really just get it. Teri also asked if I was going to stay where I was. That's a little like being asked on a date when you are in a marriage. You may have no intention of leaving at the time, or ever, but it feels so good to know you're still wanted.
I have to say, it was the most ego building afternoon ever! It was also really great because the whole thing took place around students on my SLP buddy's caseload. The entire thing culminated with a collaborative phone call between that SLP, the parent and me. I love when I get to work directly with parents so they understand what I am doing and why.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, Terry for boosting my confidence. Really helps me keep my head above professional water.
Said it before, I will say it again, school speech pathologist is a hard job. I doubt myself constantly. Talking to Teri today was as invigorating as our weather.
We talked about autism and theorized why kids on the spectrum have difficulties with names based on what we know to be true about the disorder and learning patterns. We talked about communication devices and language systems. We talked about who benefits from categorical based language systems and why. Then moved on to the kind of person who benefits from core language based layouts. We talked current research related to the topic and evaluated that research. Research. Mmmmmm. I love research. It's like chocolate and candy on Valentine's day. We also talked about my new passion, transition. At which point I asked her (okay, demanded) she tell the powers that be I NEED to do a presentation for families about the topic from the parent perspective with a dash of professional knowledge at HER place of employment.
Teri complimented me on my knowledge base and that ability to understand the perspective of a non-verbal person with autism. She actually asked me, really asked, "Where did you learn what you know?" because she wanted to send other people there so they could really just get it. Teri also asked if I was going to stay where I was. That's a little like being asked on a date when you are in a marriage. You may have no intention of leaving at the time, or ever, but it feels so good to know you're still wanted.
I have to say, it was the most ego building afternoon ever! It was also really great because the whole thing took place around students on my SLP buddy's caseload. The entire thing culminated with a collaborative phone call between that SLP, the parent and me. I love when I get to work directly with parents so they understand what I am doing and why.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, Terry for boosting my confidence. Really helps me keep my head above professional water.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Matt
Not that Matt, my other Matt. The one who is married to my sister. This is like the in-law weekend or something.
One of my cabinet doors kind of fell off. (If you know me and my house story, be proud of me that I am focusing on the THANK YOU aspect of things.) The door had always hung a little crooked. The hole was too large for the screw. With use, the hole became bigger until the entire thing just fell off. Matt came to the rescue. Like MacGyver, he fixed it with nothing more than toothpicks and Elmer's glue. His assistance was also instrumental in renovating my house in the first place. Won't get into that, instead I will say....
Matt, thanks for fixing my cabinet door this afternoon and helping fix many other things prior to that!
One of my cabinet doors kind of fell off. (If you know me and my house story, be proud of me that I am focusing on the THANK YOU aspect of things.) The door had always hung a little crooked. The hole was too large for the screw. With use, the hole became bigger until the entire thing just fell off. Matt came to the rescue. Like MacGyver, he fixed it with nothing more than toothpicks and Elmer's glue. His assistance was also instrumental in renovating my house in the first place. Won't get into that, instead I will say....
Matt, thanks for fixing my cabinet door this afternoon and helping fix many other things prior to that!
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Mrs. Stone-Voss
When I was a kid....(yes, I really am starting out with that)
.....my parents didn't believe in flying. We took a vacation, we drove! We had a van. A REAL van. The kind that meddling kids and a dog used when solving mysteries. We dubbed it the magic bus. It was a blue Volkswagen and I swear the Louisville Zoo uses our old van as a prop for visiting families to use in pictures. These vacations were back in the old days when your mom typed out the names of states on an actual TYPEWRITER for you to play license plate bingo. Did anybody in the mid-west EVER see a car from Alaska? Hawaii? Really? Like that was ever going to happen. Dinner at Shoney's was a treat ("Mom, can't we PLEASE have a pecan log???") Cars had to be ordered special if you wanted them to have seat belts, which my dad did. Children read actual books with pages. And the music. Ah, the music. It was Dad's AM bluegrass and news, or David's state of the art 8-Track player.
Doobie brothers, Three Dog night, Lynard Skynard, and the Soundtrack from the Blues Brothers. Heere odda hilldidda hildhiruhah Juuuyr adda hilldadida jigguwah. Bow bow bow. RUBBER BIIISCUIT!!!!!
Jake and Elwood will always bring to mind that twelve hour drive that ended on a beach in North Carolina. Family folklore took place on those drives. Like the event that will always be known as the flying danish incident. It involved a disliked boyfriend, a gas station, and my poor father trying to make amends. Or the time Michael threw me down in an ice cold mountain stream because he used me to steady himself on the slick rocks. No extra clothes. That meant the car had to be unpacked to find some. Guess how happy that made my dad? Who in my family doesn't love to recount the numerous times dad pulled up to the very edge of the overlook in the Smokies saying "Look at that view" as mom, who hates heights, would yell, "Will you PLEASE turn this car around!?!?!"
Two adults, four kids, no iPads, no cell phones, or DVDs locked in a van for twelve hours. I'm not sure how any of us survived. I'm not sure how I survive that same drive with my three kids, a service dog, and all those electronics. They have no idea what they are missing. Tonight, I was reminded.
Max took History of Rock last quarter with Stone-Voss. I love that he gets to take classes like that. In class, they learned about the roots of rock 'n' roll through text, albums, and movies. It has lead to some really good conversations with him about good classic rock. He's taught me a lot. We've also talked about the movies they watched. One of those movies was The Blues Brothers. Although I have listened to the soundtrack hundreds, maybe thousands of times, I had never seen the movie. Max begged me to watch. I'm so glad I said yes. I had no idea how amazing the music was in the movie. New album for the iPod for sure!
Mrs. Stone-Voss, thanks for giving me the opportunity to share some really great music and classic comedy with my son.
.....my parents didn't believe in flying. We took a vacation, we drove! We had a van. A REAL van. The kind that meddling kids and a dog used when solving mysteries. We dubbed it the magic bus. It was a blue Volkswagen and I swear the Louisville Zoo uses our old van as a prop for visiting families to use in pictures. These vacations were back in the old days when your mom typed out the names of states on an actual TYPEWRITER for you to play license plate bingo. Did anybody in the mid-west EVER see a car from Alaska? Hawaii? Really? Like that was ever going to happen. Dinner at Shoney's was a treat ("Mom, can't we PLEASE have a pecan log???") Cars had to be ordered special if you wanted them to have seat belts, which my dad did. Children read actual books with pages. And the music. Ah, the music. It was Dad's AM bluegrass and news, or David's state of the art 8-Track player.
Doobie brothers, Three Dog night, Lynard Skynard, and the Soundtrack from the Blues Brothers. Heere odda hilldidda hildhiruhah Juuuyr adda hilldadida jigguwah. Bow bow bow. RUBBER BIIISCUIT!!!!!
Jake and Elwood will always bring to mind that twelve hour drive that ended on a beach in North Carolina. Family folklore took place on those drives. Like the event that will always be known as the flying danish incident. It involved a disliked boyfriend, a gas station, and my poor father trying to make amends. Or the time Michael threw me down in an ice cold mountain stream because he used me to steady himself on the slick rocks. No extra clothes. That meant the car had to be unpacked to find some. Guess how happy that made my dad? Who in my family doesn't love to recount the numerous times dad pulled up to the very edge of the overlook in the Smokies saying "Look at that view" as mom, who hates heights, would yell, "Will you PLEASE turn this car around!?!?!"
Two adults, four kids, no iPads, no cell phones, or DVDs locked in a van for twelve hours. I'm not sure how any of us survived. I'm not sure how I survive that same drive with my three kids, a service dog, and all those electronics. They have no idea what they are missing. Tonight, I was reminded.
Max took History of Rock last quarter with Stone-Voss. I love that he gets to take classes like that. In class, they learned about the roots of rock 'n' roll through text, albums, and movies. It has lead to some really good conversations with him about good classic rock. He's taught me a lot. We've also talked about the movies they watched. One of those movies was The Blues Brothers. Although I have listened to the soundtrack hundreds, maybe thousands of times, I had never seen the movie. Max begged me to watch. I'm so glad I said yes. I had no idea how amazing the music was in the movie. New album for the iPod for sure!
Mrs. Stone-Voss, thanks for giving me the opportunity to share some really great music and classic comedy with my son.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Teresa
Sick today which is pretty boring. Saw a Facebook post from my sister in law of my brother emailing during their lunch. David is currently living in France while Teresa stays here until their youngest graduates. Teresa deserves flowers and a mushy note, but it just wouldn't be the same from me.
Instead, I will say: Teresa, thank you for marrying my dorky brother, helping him find his faith, and not throwing something at his head today. (P.S. would have been totally justified.)
Instead, I will say: Teresa, thank you for marrying my dorky brother, helping him find his faith, and not throwing something at his head today. (P.S. would have been totally justified.)
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Kelly....again
Today, I am sick. Kelly came over and got Sam in the house and settled. He did not have a good day at school. It was nice not to deal with the fall out of a "no chips and diet pepsi" day.
Thanks Kelly.
Thanks Kelly.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Molly
Grad school is hard. Being a real live grown up speech language pathologist is even harder. My first two years I have had the full gamut of disability identifications (deaf/hard of hearing, all levels of autism, emotionally disturbed, multiple disability) and age range (three to twenty two) that a speech language pathologist can have in the school setting. It's not unusual to have that kind of variety. It's just unusual to have it your first eighteen months. My current placement has a significant number of students whose primary language is not English.
If you want to gripe about immigration...move along. This post isn't for you. Still with me? Oh, good!
Let me tell you what a speech language pathologist does. We diagnose and treat individuals with speech (rabbit vs. wabbit) and language (I not good talker) disorders. We also work on pragmatics (see how Ms. Nesbitt's face is red? That's how we know she is mad.) We are not the reading teacher. We do not tutor students on content. We do not teach English.
Language development follows a fairly predictable pattern. Many patterns demonstrated by young children learning a primary language will be demonstrated by individuals of any age learning a second language. When a child exposed to two languages demonstrates a "delay" in speech or language, a speech language therapist has to determine if the delay is because they are learning a new language or if they have a speech language disorder.
If you want to gripe about standardized testing...follow your friends who are complaining about immigration out the door please. Still here? Whew!
Standardized tests are standardized on middle class America. These are children who, regardless of ethnicity, live in a literacy rich home, take classes like "tumble bunnies" at age two, and are immersed in American culture. So what does a speech path do when she needs to test a student who in no way resembles that description? She goes authentic assessment instead. But only after she calls a really smart classmate who is bilingual and knows her stuff. Molly is that classmate.
She gave me documents, questionnaires, references and rubrics. All the things that make an SLP's little heart go pitter patter with joy. Putting that together took time. Molly was not paid to do this for me. She did it because she very much cares about our Spanish speaking population. She also did it because she is just a very sweet young girl, who totally knows how to rock a sequined mini-skirt!
Molly, thank you so much for the e-mail. I am printing it out and using it this year as well as passing the information on to those who may need it. Muchas gracias, chica!
If you want to gripe about immigration...move along. This post isn't for you. Still with me? Oh, good!
Let me tell you what a speech language pathologist does. We diagnose and treat individuals with speech (rabbit vs. wabbit) and language (I not good talker) disorders. We also work on pragmatics (see how Ms. Nesbitt's face is red? That's how we know she is mad.) We are not the reading teacher. We do not tutor students on content. We do not teach English.
Language development follows a fairly predictable pattern. Many patterns demonstrated by young children learning a primary language will be demonstrated by individuals of any age learning a second language. When a child exposed to two languages demonstrates a "delay" in speech or language, a speech language therapist has to determine if the delay is because they are learning a new language or if they have a speech language disorder.
If you want to gripe about standardized testing...follow your friends who are complaining about immigration out the door please. Still here? Whew!
Standardized tests are standardized on middle class America. These are children who, regardless of ethnicity, live in a literacy rich home, take classes like "tumble bunnies" at age two, and are immersed in American culture. So what does a speech path do when she needs to test a student who in no way resembles that description? She goes authentic assessment instead. But only after she calls a really smart classmate who is bilingual and knows her stuff. Molly is that classmate.
She gave me documents, questionnaires, references and rubrics. All the things that make an SLP's little heart go pitter patter with joy. Putting that together took time. Molly was not paid to do this for me. She did it because she very much cares about our Spanish speaking population. She also did it because she is just a very sweet young girl, who totally knows how to rock a sequined mini-skirt!
Molly, thank you so much for the e-mail. I am printing it out and using it this year as well as passing the information on to those who may need it. Muchas gracias, chica!
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Sarah B
Sam is getting ready to move to the high school. That means we are in the home stretch to "adult services." There are no scarier words than "adult services" as far as I'm concerned. I had a bit of a panic attack thinking about it. Mostly because I went somewhere to check out a program which offers "adult services" for Sam and realized that all the participants were individuals with significant disabilities. Not like school, where he is among the people. I know. You are thinking "Duh, Carol! He has severe autism." But the the instructional booklet that every parent receives with a diagnosis of developmental disability clearly states that if your child is not fully integrated into society by adulthood, you have failed miserably. You must wear a giant "L" on your head and hang it in shame.
Okay, there is no booklet that tells you anything useful. It's all trial and error. But there is guilt. Lots of guilt. Most of it around how much your child is included in everything non-disabled peers do. That limited glimpse of adult services made me think "Oh crap! I haven't done nearly enough to find ways for Sam to be involved outside of school." Guilt can motivate you as much as it paralyzes you. First the motivation: I found a local program that says they help people with disabilities become more involved with all kinds of people in the community.
I e-mailed and received a quick response from Sarah. This was followed with a phone call. I have to say, she did not tell me what I wanted to hear. One thing they DON'T tell you when your child is diagnosed with (fill in developmental disability label here) is your role in your child's progress. Want them to talk, you better be ready to play speech language therapist. Want them to make a sandwich? Get out your pseudo occupational therapist hat. Want them to learn how to behave in public? Time to get your Lovaas on. What Sarah described was no different.
Don't get me wrong. I am not lazy when it comes to my kid's disability. In fact, part of the reason I could hit the ground running when I received my SLP license is because I already had lots of materials I had used with Sam. (What? You don't have a laminator and bolt of velcro? You haven't given presentations to parents, doctors, and social workers? Weirdo!) But now that I am doing it all day for other people's children, then coming home and doing it with Sam on top of trying to meet the needs of my other two kids, I am a wee bit busier than I would like. (Hello paralyzing guilt. How I have missed you!)
I really wanted to be told that I could drop Sam off and when he returned......Voila! He had new skills and a plethora of typical friends in the community. (Spoiler alert...no such program exists because that is not real life.)
Instead, I was told about a networking situation where I could learn how to help Sam hook up with people who share similar interests. I was, more than a little grumpy. Especially since this whole idea was born from a place of shear panic and complete exhaustion. However, today I had the opportunity to hear about some other programs that eased my mind a little about Sam's future. Made me realize that what Sarah offered is actually a complimentary program to what lies ahead. (Motivation returns!)
Sarah, thanks for call me back so quickly. I appreciate you taking the time to explain the program to me even when I had a very negative attitude about it. I'm looking forward to giving it a whirl.
Okay, there is no booklet that tells you anything useful. It's all trial and error. But there is guilt. Lots of guilt. Most of it around how much your child is included in everything non-disabled peers do. That limited glimpse of adult services made me think "Oh crap! I haven't done nearly enough to find ways for Sam to be involved outside of school." Guilt can motivate you as much as it paralyzes you. First the motivation: I found a local program that says they help people with disabilities become more involved with all kinds of people in the community.
I e-mailed and received a quick response from Sarah. This was followed with a phone call. I have to say, she did not tell me what I wanted to hear. One thing they DON'T tell you when your child is diagnosed with (fill in developmental disability label here) is your role in your child's progress. Want them to talk, you better be ready to play speech language therapist. Want them to make a sandwich? Get out your pseudo occupational therapist hat. Want them to learn how to behave in public? Time to get your Lovaas on. What Sarah described was no different.
Don't get me wrong. I am not lazy when it comes to my kid's disability. In fact, part of the reason I could hit the ground running when I received my SLP license is because I already had lots of materials I had used with Sam. (What? You don't have a laminator and bolt of velcro? You haven't given presentations to parents, doctors, and social workers? Weirdo!) But now that I am doing it all day for other people's children, then coming home and doing it with Sam on top of trying to meet the needs of my other two kids, I am a wee bit busier than I would like. (Hello paralyzing guilt. How I have missed you!)
I really wanted to be told that I could drop Sam off and when he returned......Voila! He had new skills and a plethora of typical friends in the community. (Spoiler alert...no such program exists because that is not real life.)
Instead, I was told about a networking situation where I could learn how to help Sam hook up with people who share similar interests. I was, more than a little grumpy. Especially since this whole idea was born from a place of shear panic and complete exhaustion. However, today I had the opportunity to hear about some other programs that eased my mind a little about Sam's future. Made me realize that what Sarah offered is actually a complimentary program to what lies ahead. (Motivation returns!)
Sarah, thanks for call me back so quickly. I appreciate you taking the time to explain the program to me even when I had a very negative attitude about it. I'm looking forward to giving it a whirl.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Mason.
Okay. At first, this was going to go to Mama J.J. I mean, she did bring me pie on election night. Apple pie. HOMEMADE apple pie. Hmmm. Pie.
She also told me that her lovely family would be playing at a bluegrass festival on Saturday. Matt came into town this weekend and was in charge of planning the night. The concert was a fun, unique way to spend a Saturday night. It also caused us to be in close proximity to one of my favorite restaurants which was a double score! The family is very talented and I thought about sending a thank you to the entire Side of Taylors. But I'm not sure if that really followed my rule or not. Plus, Mason won out because of something that happened at the last junior high choir concert.
First of all, the seating at the concert is assigned seating through a random drawing. Josey drew the nosebleed seats. Not just the nosebleed seats, the nosebleed seats on the opposite side of the auditorium from where she was to stand in the aisle and sing during the finale. Of course, had she been right in front of me, she would have pretended not to know that I was waving wildly and snapping pictures. (If you wonder why, refer to the JoJo post and description of parachuting at IKEA. I kind of know why she worries what I might do. I kind of like worrying her. It's just too tempting to pass up sometimes!)
Fortunately, Mason's place to sing in the aisle was right at the end of my row! That boy has no problem having his picture snapped. In fact, when I did that "loud whisper" which is actually louder than just yelling, an action forbidden by my child, he turned around and posed with a giant smile. It was nice that when my own sweet girl was unavailable to fawn over, Mason was happy to oblige!
Mason, thanks for putting on such an amazing performance and being my choir night stand in. I'm looking forward to the Spring Musical.
She also told me that her lovely family would be playing at a bluegrass festival on Saturday. Matt came into town this weekend and was in charge of planning the night. The concert was a fun, unique way to spend a Saturday night. It also caused us to be in close proximity to one of my favorite restaurants which was a double score! The family is very talented and I thought about sending a thank you to the entire Side of Taylors. But I'm not sure if that really followed my rule or not. Plus, Mason won out because of something that happened at the last junior high choir concert.
First of all, the seating at the concert is assigned seating through a random drawing. Josey drew the nosebleed seats. Not just the nosebleed seats, the nosebleed seats on the opposite side of the auditorium from where she was to stand in the aisle and sing during the finale. Of course, had she been right in front of me, she would have pretended not to know that I was waving wildly and snapping pictures. (If you wonder why, refer to the JoJo post and description of parachuting at IKEA. I kind of know why she worries what I might do. I kind of like worrying her. It's just too tempting to pass up sometimes!)
Fortunately, Mason's place to sing in the aisle was right at the end of my row! That boy has no problem having his picture snapped. In fact, when I did that "loud whisper" which is actually louder than just yelling, an action forbidden by my child, he turned around and posed with a giant smile. It was nice that when my own sweet girl was unavailable to fawn over, Mason was happy to oblige!
Mason, thanks for putting on such an amazing performance and being my choir night stand in. I'm looking forward to the Spring Musical.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Siobhan
Yeah for date night!
Every parent needs a little time to go do something that does not involve happy meals, wiping noses, teacher conferences, or the latest teen pop idle. Last night was my night to be a person in my own right and not (fill in the blank)'s mom. Nights like that would not be possible without fabulous people like Siobhan. Unfortunately, she had a family situation going on too. She was so sweet and conscientious about being there for my kids, she apologized in advance in case she needed to take a phone call from a family member. Something that would certainly not be an issue at all.
Thank you for taking such good care of my (not so) little pumpkin so I could enjoy an evening out with the fabulous Mr. L. Anyone else reading this, please say a prayer for her and her family.
Every parent needs a little time to go do something that does not involve happy meals, wiping noses, teacher conferences, or the latest teen pop idle. Last night was my night to be a person in my own right and not (fill in the blank)'s mom. Nights like that would not be possible without fabulous people like Siobhan. Unfortunately, she had a family situation going on too. She was so sweet and conscientious about being there for my kids, she apologized in advance in case she needed to take a phone call from a family member. Something that would certainly not be an issue at all.
Thank you for taking such good care of my (not so) little pumpkin so I could enjoy an evening out with the fabulous Mr. L. Anyone else reading this, please say a prayer for her and her family.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Jenny
About 7 years ago, we started going to Skyline after church for lunch. Our waitress was a sweet high school girl whose uncle owned the place. She was always very nice and patient with our crazy bunch. She is now a hair stylist. All my favorite boys (Matt, Max, and Sam) go to Jenny for haircuts. She keeps the men in my life looking good! Matt prefers to get his haircuts here and she did another fantastic job today. Sam was disappointed it wasn't his turn, but bucked up rather well.
Thanks for making my boys, all three, even more handsome Jenny (@ Big League.)
Thanks for making my boys, all three, even more handsome Jenny (@ Big League.)
Friday, January 18, 2013
Miss Kelly
New year.....new caseload! Such is the life of an SLP in a large urban district.
Reality check, Sam will be 15 very soon and he will still not be getting off the bus alone, walking down the street, letting himself in the house, getting a snack and starting homework. School based childcare cuts off at 6th grade. He is too old for a childcare center and not old enough for an adult care center. Agencies want a three to five hour commitment, making costs anywhere between $150-500 a week depending on hourly rate ($10-20.) I can't afford that out of pocket, it's practically a house payment! Or I could let it eat through what little respite funding I get in about three months and then start paying that much. What is a mom to do????
Lucky moms like me have a friend like Kelly. She offered to become an employee of an agency and cover the one hour a day I need. She had to go to training, become CPR certified, and pass background checks. Now that my schedule is changing from late days to one early day, she is helping me yet again! She says that she enjoys it and spending that time with Sam is the highlight of her day. Well, she sure as heck isn't doing it for the glory or pay!
Thank you Kelly for snatching me from the jaws of single working mom defeat; not once, but TWICE this school year! I'm not sure what next year holds for us all, but it's nice to know that for the moment, you got me covered!
Reality check, Sam will be 15 very soon and he will still not be getting off the bus alone, walking down the street, letting himself in the house, getting a snack and starting homework. School based childcare cuts off at 6th grade. He is too old for a childcare center and not old enough for an adult care center. Agencies want a three to five hour commitment, making costs anywhere between $150-500 a week depending on hourly rate ($10-20.) I can't afford that out of pocket, it's practically a house payment! Or I could let it eat through what little respite funding I get in about three months and then start paying that much. What is a mom to do????
Lucky moms like me have a friend like Kelly. She offered to become an employee of an agency and cover the one hour a day I need. She had to go to training, become CPR certified, and pass background checks. Now that my schedule is changing from late days to one early day, she is helping me yet again! She says that she enjoys it and spending that time with Sam is the highlight of her day. Well, she sure as heck isn't doing it for the glory or pay!
Thank you Kelly for snatching me from the jaws of single working mom defeat; not once, but TWICE this school year! I'm not sure what next year holds for us all, but it's nice to know that for the moment, you got me covered!
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Doris
I work in a building jam packed with people who speak English as a second language. Students AND staff. That can be intimidating if you show up knowing little more than what you learned from Da Da Da Da Da Dora the Explorer. It can also be a great experience.
Today was Doris's birthday. She celebrated by bringing in cake, doughnuts and bagels for all of us. It's nice to work with somebody who not only enjoys life, but makes a point to share that joy each day. Senora C., thank you for the yummy sweet treats this morning!
Today was Doris's birthday. She celebrated by bringing in cake, doughnuts and bagels for all of us. It's nice to work with somebody who not only enjoys life, but makes a point to share that joy each day. Senora C., thank you for the yummy sweet treats this morning!
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Mrs. Gartner
Each quarter in Josey's choir class, the students have to prepare their "choir notebook." The expectations are actually really, really high. Much to rule following Josey's chagrin, I am not a parent who flips out if everybody doesn't have straight As. In fact, I'm the type of parent that if I think a test is poorly constructed or I don't see the value of the assignment, I don't care how low the grade is. I don't share that with my kids, because I believe in solidarity between parent and teacher. But....I am still going to think it. And yes, as a speech pathologist, I am licensed to say, "that is a load of poorly structured, pointless busy work!"
Mrs. Gartner said the purpose of the folders is to teach students how to present themselves in writing. Josey spent days worrying about this folder. She took in every detail of the rubric and applied it with the utmost of attention. Typically, the extraordinarily high standards of this folder would make me go "hmph" (to myself, of course.) However, after seeing how exceedingly proud Josey was to receive the highest grade in the class for her choir folder, I have to say: I AM A BELIEVER!!!!!!! If she received nothing but perfect scores on every OAA, ACT, PSAT, SAT, and GRE she takes, she could not possibly feel as elated as she does about her choir folder grade.
Thank you, Mrs. Gartner for setting such high standards for a girl with a curmudgeon of a mama!
Mrs. Gartner said the purpose of the folders is to teach students how to present themselves in writing. Josey spent days worrying about this folder. She took in every detail of the rubric and applied it with the utmost of attention. Typically, the extraordinarily high standards of this folder would make me go "hmph" (to myself, of course.) However, after seeing how exceedingly proud Josey was to receive the highest grade in the class for her choir folder, I have to say: I AM A BELIEVER!!!!!!! If she received nothing but perfect scores on every OAA, ACT, PSAT, SAT, and GRE she takes, she could not possibly feel as elated as she does about her choir folder grade.
Thank you, Mrs. Gartner for setting such high standards for a girl with a curmudgeon of a mama!
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Billy
and below is the after. Here is the story of a man, a plan, and my Sam.
People with disabilities are more likely to be overweight because there are fewer opportunities for them to participate in physical activity in the community. For some individuals, like Sam, there is motor planning dis-coordination so severe, that even basic activities can become a challenge. He has difficulty crossing mid-line (the invisible line cuts you into left and right) and the sagital line (the one that cuts you top and bottom.) He also has difficulty maintaining balance on a single foot or bending over. As if that weren't enough, he has very tight achilles tendons coupled with low muscle tone. A jumping jack is not a pretty thing.
The doctor who has followed Sam for over 10 years says that autism is a disability of motivation. In other words, they are lazy little boogers. Everything Sam has learned, he has learned through earning rewards. Some kids are motivated by stickers, some by pieces of fuzz. Sam is motivated by food. This was the challenge Billy faced when he met us last spring. When Sam started, he was mad if he had to run one lap, which is only the equivalent of 1/10 of a mile. But between Billy's determination and my promise of a diet Coke from McDonald's, a workout program was born!!! Sam actually started to look forward to what became known as "Billy Days."
There are moments in this journey that stick out as major turning points. Monday was one of those moments. Thank you Billy for being a game changer!
Monday, January 14, 2013
Deb? Marrisa? Hannah?
Well I didn't get the name, but here is the story.
My first little pumpkin of a student today is an absolute cutie pie. When I went to get him from class, the teacher said he was a little off. I asked him how he was and he said his head hurt. (Realize, this is a student who is spending his time one on one with a speech language pathologist, so I'm paraphrasing here!) He got a drink from the water fountain and proclaimed himself cured. He was a little stuffy, but that isn't so unusual for this little cutie. Just to be on the safe side, we wandered up to Nurse Jill before heading back to class. His temp was normal-ish. Some people just are 99 all the time. You don't go home for 99. The nurse said he should come back after lunch. After lunch, his temp was 104. Nobody is 104 all the time. You go home for 104. This made me very sorry I didn't get a flu shot....yet.
I know. It's probably too late, but maybe not. I had to at least try.
I called Walgreen's to see if they had any vaccines. The very nice lady who answered the phone said they were out but were expecting 50 the next morning. She told me if I couldn't wait, she had recently spoken with another pharmacy and they had plenty! I went to that pharmacy, and was able to get a shot lickety split. I thought that was so nice of Walgreen's to offer that information. I tried to find out the name of the person to whom I had spoken, but all four ladies had taken similar phone calls.
So...Deb, Marissa, Hannah, whoever it is you may be....thanks for helping a girl get a shot when she needs one! If it didn't work, I'm coming to you for my Tamiflu instead of my regular pharmacy.
My first little pumpkin of a student today is an absolute cutie pie. When I went to get him from class, the teacher said he was a little off. I asked him how he was and he said his head hurt. (Realize, this is a student who is spending his time one on one with a speech language pathologist, so I'm paraphrasing here!) He got a drink from the water fountain and proclaimed himself cured. He was a little stuffy, but that isn't so unusual for this little cutie. Just to be on the safe side, we wandered up to Nurse Jill before heading back to class. His temp was normal-ish. Some people just are 99 all the time. You don't go home for 99. The nurse said he should come back after lunch. After lunch, his temp was 104. Nobody is 104 all the time. You go home for 104. This made me very sorry I didn't get a flu shot....yet.
I know. It's probably too late, but maybe not. I had to at least try.
I called Walgreen's to see if they had any vaccines. The very nice lady who answered the phone said they were out but were expecting 50 the next morning. She told me if I couldn't wait, she had recently spoken with another pharmacy and they had plenty! I went to that pharmacy, and was able to get a shot lickety split. I thought that was so nice of Walgreen's to offer that information. I tried to find out the name of the person to whom I had spoken, but all four ladies had taken similar phone calls.
So...Deb, Marissa, Hannah, whoever it is you may be....thanks for helping a girl get a shot when she needs one! If it didn't work, I'm coming to you for my Tamiflu instead of my regular pharmacy.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Max
If Friday night was all about the girl, Sunday afternoon was all about the boy.
Let me tell you right now....I chose his Christmas gift in early December. If you have issues with video game choices, gun control, shooting ranges....quit reading now. Really. Stop.
Okay, those of you who are still with me, Max loves the book "The Zombie Survival Guide." Somebody suggested that I take Max for a zombie shoot. It's a little like paintball, in the sense that the ammunition will hurt if it hits your bare skin but it won't kill you. In early December, I decided that a Zombie hunt would be an awesome gift.
First, thing we did was gun safety. When I was growing up, my grandpa had a gentleman's farm. If you wanted to keep your chickens safe from foxes and cats, you needed a gun. Grandpa had a gun cabinet in his kitchen. It was all glass so you knew exactly what was inside. Typically, his gun was not inside. It was leaning up against the outside of the cabinet. Touching Grandpa's gun was the equivalent of saying "Could you please beat my @#$ as hard as you can?" because that is EXACTLY what would have happened if you touched Grandpa's gun without permission. Max's gun experience is pretty much limited to squirt guns and skeet shooting at summer camp. As Max pointed out to his uncle today, "Ironically, it was a Christian summer camp."
I thought Max receiving instruction on how guns work would be very informative for him. Two sentences into the class, I had to remind him that even though he (apparently) knew the name of every part and EXACTLY how it all worked as well as possible modifications and what results those modifications might yield...it was our turn to listen. It was informative for me. I learned, that the magazine goes in with the bullets forward, it's a bad idea to have your finger on the trigger when you are not trying to shoot, and that a big white bird is not standard issue with a Baretta. Who knew? I also realized that playing hours of video games really does improve your accuracy in target shooting.
The Zombie part is a little like laser tag. It's long hallways with doors, windows, lots of mirrors to trick you and curtains. As you walk, you trip sensors that cause the zombies to groan and then you have a little time to shoot them before they infect you. Nothing actually touches you, there is just a buzzer that goes off. At one point, there were three individuals. One civilian and a zombie who appeared in front of me and a zombie that popped out from the left flank (don't I sound all GI Jane!?!??!) I had to hit the first zombie, avoid the civilian, and turn to get the second zombie. The guy said it was definitely a Charlie's Angels move. Thank you Jill, Sabrina and Kelly, I always knew that what I was learning from your show was so WAY more useful than math!
After that, Max and I practiced driving in the rain for an hour. He practiced slowing down within a reasonable amount of time, I practiced slamming my foot on the imaginary break that miraculously grows on the passenger side as soon as you start teaching your teenager to drive. We both did an excellent job!
Max is the first time I ever experienced love at first sight. He was the most perfect baby I had ever seen. He is creative and smart. When he was in 4th grade he gave an explanation of combustible engines that left his PhD pack leader's mouth agape. He is the kind of young man who, without any instruction from me, approached a group of military men at McDonald's to thank them for protecting our country. He volunteered at our Senior Center this summer. He will run out of his way to open the door for a person who is elderly or disabled. I love Max for being a bighearted zombie loving boy! Thanks for going zombie hunting with me today!
(As a side note, I let Max read the above post. He told me once how one of his games has a feature that allows you to turn the guys into babies instead of killing them, which he sometimes uses. I was going to use that detail as a way of revealing something about Max. I yelled into the other room to ask him if the game was Mortal Combat. He said yes and asked what I was doing. I told him I would let him read it when I was finished. After reading this entire post, including the paragraph immediately before this one, the only thing he said was, "Where's the part about Mortal Combat?" How could you not love a kid like that?????)
Let me tell you right now....I chose his Christmas gift in early December. If you have issues with video game choices, gun control, shooting ranges....quit reading now. Really. Stop.
Okay, those of you who are still with me, Max loves the book "The Zombie Survival Guide." Somebody suggested that I take Max for a zombie shoot. It's a little like paintball, in the sense that the ammunition will hurt if it hits your bare skin but it won't kill you. In early December, I decided that a Zombie hunt would be an awesome gift.
First, thing we did was gun safety. When I was growing up, my grandpa had a gentleman's farm. If you wanted to keep your chickens safe from foxes and cats, you needed a gun. Grandpa had a gun cabinet in his kitchen. It was all glass so you knew exactly what was inside. Typically, his gun was not inside. It was leaning up against the outside of the cabinet. Touching Grandpa's gun was the equivalent of saying "Could you please beat my @#$ as hard as you can?" because that is EXACTLY what would have happened if you touched Grandpa's gun without permission. Max's gun experience is pretty much limited to squirt guns and skeet shooting at summer camp. As Max pointed out to his uncle today, "Ironically, it was a Christian summer camp."
I thought Max receiving instruction on how guns work would be very informative for him. Two sentences into the class, I had to remind him that even though he (apparently) knew the name of every part and EXACTLY how it all worked as well as possible modifications and what results those modifications might yield...it was our turn to listen. It was informative for me. I learned, that the magazine goes in with the bullets forward, it's a bad idea to have your finger on the trigger when you are not trying to shoot, and that a big white bird is not standard issue with a Baretta. Who knew? I also realized that playing hours of video games really does improve your accuracy in target shooting.
The Zombie part is a little like laser tag. It's long hallways with doors, windows, lots of mirrors to trick you and curtains. As you walk, you trip sensors that cause the zombies to groan and then you have a little time to shoot them before they infect you. Nothing actually touches you, there is just a buzzer that goes off. At one point, there were three individuals. One civilian and a zombie who appeared in front of me and a zombie that popped out from the left flank (don't I sound all GI Jane!?!??!) I had to hit the first zombie, avoid the civilian, and turn to get the second zombie. The guy said it was definitely a Charlie's Angels move. Thank you Jill, Sabrina and Kelly, I always knew that what I was learning from your show was so WAY more useful than math!
After that, Max and I practiced driving in the rain for an hour. He practiced slowing down within a reasonable amount of time, I practiced slamming my foot on the imaginary break that miraculously grows on the passenger side as soon as you start teaching your teenager to drive. We both did an excellent job!
Max is the first time I ever experienced love at first sight. He was the most perfect baby I had ever seen. He is creative and smart. When he was in 4th grade he gave an explanation of combustible engines that left his PhD pack leader's mouth agape. He is the kind of young man who, without any instruction from me, approached a group of military men at McDonald's to thank them for protecting our country. He volunteered at our Senior Center this summer. He will run out of his way to open the door for a person who is elderly or disabled. I love Max for being a bighearted zombie loving boy! Thanks for going zombie hunting with me today!
(As a side note, I let Max read the above post. He told me once how one of his games has a feature that allows you to turn the guys into babies instead of killing them, which he sometimes uses. I was going to use that detail as a way of revealing something about Max. I yelled into the other room to ask him if the game was Mortal Combat. He said yes and asked what I was doing. I told him I would let him read it when I was finished. After reading this entire post, including the paragraph immediately before this one, the only thing he said was, "Where's the part about Mortal Combat?" How could you not love a kid like that?????)
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Lisa
Short and sweet.
Lisa is a mom I know whose sons were in Sam's classes in elementary school and middle school. She told me about a respite weekend opportunity for kids with disabilities. Those words, "for kids with disabilities," are code for "three times the cost of other kids." Fortunately, Sam has funding available at the moment. I went and checked it out. Her boys happened to be there. I called to ask her if they would be going on one of the two dates that I might send Sam. She said she hadn't planned on it, but would send one of her boys if Sam needed a familiar face his first time at camp.
If you have "typicals," that is all just normal yada-yada. I know because that's just how it went when I sent Josey to camp. When the camps are for kids with disabilities, getting the appropriate camp time, camp "friend," and funding to intersect is like picking a winning lottery number. Today's thank you goes to Lisa for telling me about the camp and offering up her son as a buddy.
Lisa is a mom I know whose sons were in Sam's classes in elementary school and middle school. She told me about a respite weekend opportunity for kids with disabilities. Those words, "for kids with disabilities," are code for "three times the cost of other kids." Fortunately, Sam has funding available at the moment. I went and checked it out. Her boys happened to be there. I called to ask her if they would be going on one of the two dates that I might send Sam. She said she hadn't planned on it, but would send one of her boys if Sam needed a familiar face his first time at camp.
If you have "typicals," that is all just normal yada-yada. I know because that's just how it went when I sent Josey to camp. When the camps are for kids with disabilities, getting the appropriate camp time, camp "friend," and funding to intersect is like picking a winning lottery number. Today's thank you goes to Lisa for telling me about the camp and offering up her son as a buddy.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Jo Jo
There is nothing like a little girl time.....especially at IKEA.
We have lived in our house for almost 5 months now, so you KNOW it's time to freshen Josey's room. She decided a few days ago that the chair in her bedroom was just not right. The list of reasons why her current chair was all wrong were as creative and entertaining as Ralphie's arguments for a BB gun without any fear she would shoot her eye out. How could I say no? When I told her, "Grandma is watching Sam so we can go to IKEA" her eyes lit up. Off we went.
Here are things that were said on our trip to IKEA: No, you don't need that. Your current bedding is fine. That doesn't match the bedroom paint color. We are here for a chair ONLY!!!! If you don't hurry up the store is going to close. Will you please keep up?!?!?! Your behavior is so inappropriate. People are looking at us, it's embarrassing.
All of these things were said by Josey to me.
What I learned was that 1. If you take a big yellow IKEA bag and run really fast while you hold it over your head...it looks like a parachute. 2. If you hook the bag on your arms like a backpack while riding on top of a furniture cart, you look like one of those super speed race cars with a parachute. 3. Doing the first two things will cause an adolescent girl to go from winter white, to Fourth of July sunburned red in under 30 seconds.
I love my daughter. I love her because she makes lists when we take trips. I love her because she organizes her room daily. I love that she knows every grade in every class down to the last tenth of a percentage point. I love that she is a rule follower. I love that when she was just three, she would tell people, "I can't eat dat...I got ou-wergies." When she was three, she didn't walk across a room, she twirled and danced. She is full of spunk and kindness and warmth that she shares with every person she meets. Best of all, she chose to spend her Friday night with me.
Thank you for going shopping with me Josey.
We have lived in our house for almost 5 months now, so you KNOW it's time to freshen Josey's room. She decided a few days ago that the chair in her bedroom was just not right. The list of reasons why her current chair was all wrong were as creative and entertaining as Ralphie's arguments for a BB gun without any fear she would shoot her eye out. How could I say no? When I told her, "Grandma is watching Sam so we can go to IKEA" her eyes lit up. Off we went.
Here are things that were said on our trip to IKEA: No, you don't need that. Your current bedding is fine. That doesn't match the bedroom paint color. We are here for a chair ONLY!!!! If you don't hurry up the store is going to close. Will you please keep up?!?!?! Your behavior is so inappropriate. People are looking at us, it's embarrassing.
All of these things were said by Josey to me.
What I learned was that 1. If you take a big yellow IKEA bag and run really fast while you hold it over your head...it looks like a parachute. 2. If you hook the bag on your arms like a backpack while riding on top of a furniture cart, you look like one of those super speed race cars with a parachute. 3. Doing the first two things will cause an adolescent girl to go from winter white, to Fourth of July sunburned red in under 30 seconds.
I love my daughter. I love her because she makes lists when we take trips. I love her because she organizes her room daily. I love that she knows every grade in every class down to the last tenth of a percentage point. I love that she is a rule follower. I love that when she was just three, she would tell people, "I can't eat dat...I got ou-wergies." When she was three, she didn't walk across a room, she twirled and danced. She is full of spunk and kindness and warmth that she shares with every person she meets. Best of all, she chose to spend her Friday night with me.
Thank you for going shopping with me Josey.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Skye
Notice that there is an "e" at the end, making this Skye an actual person. You will not be reading a post about sunshine or clouds. I went back and looked. I could cheat and write a thank you to an inanimate object. At this moment, I am certainly tempted to write an ode of rapture to the goddess "Weekend," but I will be good and stick to an actual person.
Skye is a fellow SLP in my very large urban school district. For the last two years, she had the building I now have. For the first two months all I heard was "What happened to Miss Skye?" "Miss Skye gave us candy," and "Why don't you give prizes like Miss Skye?" After the first few weeks I figured it was okay to see how I measured up. I asked my student with all the enthusiasm I could muster "Don't you like me as much as Miss Skye." I was hoping for a Mary Poppins "Nearly perfect in every way" kind of answer. I was was met with a solid "no." All the funnier because it was followed by a "Well, it's just I don't know you well enough." That is the EXACT thing our mother would say each time we brought home somebody she hated. They like me a little better now, although they have made it clear they would like me much more if I gave out candy and prizes.
The caseload is a little tricky. I was explaining the setting to a speech therapist at another district and she said, "Wow! That's the kind of caseload that takes you three years to really wrap yourself around!" She works in a much smaller, wealthier in every way, school district where you might actually be able to spend three years doing that. This brings me to Skye.
I know she misses her old building. Yet, she has been very kind in helping me navigate and settle into the position. I have talked to her several times about various issues and concerns. She has been a generous sounding board. I had the chance to work with her this week in a different capacity. She was very kind in thanking me for taking the time to collaborate, which was nothing more than exactly what I'm supposed to be doing to earn my paycheck anyway. She also took time to talk to me about my students again. Is this why you did that? What about when.... Am I doing the right thing with.... Being the only SLP in a building can be a little lonely. Nobody else does what you do. Many people don't even understand what you do. Worse, they don't understand what you DON'T do. It can make what is already a challenging job feel a tiny bit overwhelming. I am very thankful to my colleague for taking the time to reassure me.
Skye is a fellow SLP in my very large urban school district. For the last two years, she had the building I now have. For the first two months all I heard was "What happened to Miss Skye?" "Miss Skye gave us candy," and "Why don't you give prizes like Miss Skye?" After the first few weeks I figured it was okay to see how I measured up. I asked my student with all the enthusiasm I could muster "Don't you like me as much as Miss Skye." I was hoping for a Mary Poppins "Nearly perfect in every way" kind of answer. I was was met with a solid "no." All the funnier because it was followed by a "Well, it's just I don't know you well enough." That is the EXACT thing our mother would say each time we brought home somebody she hated. They like me a little better now, although they have made it clear they would like me much more if I gave out candy and prizes.
The caseload is a little tricky. I was explaining the setting to a speech therapist at another district and she said, "Wow! That's the kind of caseload that takes you three years to really wrap yourself around!" She works in a much smaller, wealthier in every way, school district where you might actually be able to spend three years doing that. This brings me to Skye.
I know she misses her old building. Yet, she has been very kind in helping me navigate and settle into the position. I have talked to her several times about various issues and concerns. She has been a generous sounding board. I had the chance to work with her this week in a different capacity. She was very kind in thanking me for taking the time to collaborate, which was nothing more than exactly what I'm supposed to be doing to earn my paycheck anyway. She also took time to talk to me about my students again. Is this why you did that? What about when.... Am I doing the right thing with.... Being the only SLP in a building can be a little lonely. Nobody else does what you do. Many people don't even understand what you do. Worse, they don't understand what you DON'T do. It can make what is already a challenging job feel a tiny bit overwhelming. I am very thankful to my colleague for taking the time to reassure me.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Gale
I am the youngest of four. Today's thank you goes to my sister.
Max, my oldest is not crazy about change. Over the years he has adjusted to it somewhat. But when he was younger, he HATED change. In 2007 he faced a lot of change. Bad change. His father moved out. We sold our home. Going from a very large house with a large bedroom, to a smaller house with a smaller bedroom, meant that many of his prized possessions had to go too. Change, change, change. The divorce and move were hard for everybody but probably the hardest for Max. My sister is one who is not fond of change either. (Those of you who know her can stop snorting and saying things like "That's an understatement.") She sent Max a letter about change with a box of coins. It helped him to understand and feel better about things. It also helped me.
Somebody who is dear to me, in the sense that she is important in my life and that she is very sweet, received some bad news today. Her school is closing. She hates changes too. I called my sister and asked if she could e-mail me a copy of that original letter. I remembered the basic theme, but not the specific words. I'm sure we still have it somewhere, but God only knows where! She found it on her computer and e-mailed it to me. It is so well written and made me realize the core of my discontent the last few months has been rooted in changes I don't want but can do nothing about. For example, next year I will have one high school senior and one high school freshman. Both are entering a realm I'm not ready to face for a variety of very different reasons. Quite frankly, it scares the hell out of me. My anxiety is probably no more than when I had one kindergartner and one pre-schooler. We all managed to survive that year. I'm sure we will survive next year and all those years that follow too.
Thank you for the wonderful letter Gale. It is as pertinent today as it was 5 years ago. I am copying and pasting so you can all see why I am thankful for my sister.
Max, my oldest is not crazy about change. Over the years he has adjusted to it somewhat. But when he was younger, he HATED change. In 2007 he faced a lot of change. Bad change. His father moved out. We sold our home. Going from a very large house with a large bedroom, to a smaller house with a smaller bedroom, meant that many of his prized possessions had to go too. Change, change, change. The divorce and move were hard for everybody but probably the hardest for Max. My sister is one who is not fond of change either. (Those of you who know her can stop snorting and saying things like "That's an understatement.") She sent Max a letter about change with a box of coins. It helped him to understand and feel better about things. It also helped me.
Somebody who is dear to me, in the sense that she is important in my life and that she is very sweet, received some bad news today. Her school is closing. She hates changes too. I called my sister and asked if she could e-mail me a copy of that original letter. I remembered the basic theme, but not the specific words. I'm sure we still have it somewhere, but God only knows where! She found it on her computer and e-mailed it to me. It is so well written and made me realize the core of my discontent the last few months has been rooted in changes I don't want but can do nothing about. For example, next year I will have one high school senior and one high school freshman. Both are entering a realm I'm not ready to face for a variety of very different reasons. Quite frankly, it scares the hell out of me. My anxiety is probably no more than when I had one kindergartner and one pre-schooler. We all managed to survive that year. I'm sure we will survive next year and all those years that follow too.
Thank you for the wonderful letter Gale. It is as pertinent today as it was 5 years ago. I am copying and pasting so you can all see why I am thankful for my sister.
Change
I hate change. I went to Gold Star at the mall
yesterday and they had changed the cups they have always used. I could still
get a Pepsi with a straw, but it was different. It made me uncomfortable.
Why does any one want to change
anything when change feels so bad? There must be a reason because so
many people like to change things. Let’s think of some things that change:
-When you are little and you go to the bathroom in your
diapers, your mom has to change your diapers….that’s good.
-When you go to school you learn things and when you learn
enough you get to change to a higher grade level and learn more things so you
become educated….that’s good.
-When the seasons change it gets colder and then Santa can
pull his sleigh in the snow and brings fun gifts…that’s really good.
So some change is good. Of
course, not all things change:
-Your family always loves you and that will never change.
-As long as you have tried your best, you can be proud of
yourself and that will never change.
-You can always ask God to help you when you are
uncomfortable with a change.
-You and I are always going to
be a little unhappy when things change. We will just have to remember that some
change is good.
Here’s a little change I think you might like. (see attached box.)
Love Always (no change!),
Aunt Gale
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Matt
If you have been absolutely rapt by my blog of thanks, which I'm sure you have been, then you know from an earlier post that I have a really good man in my life. Actually, I have more than one, but there is only one who finds my crazy endearing. I know that when you read relationship books they talk about not going to bed mad, sharing interests, values, possibly a zip code. I believe those are all good goals that should be incorporated into a relationship, but what really gets you through isn't that your mate likes what every other human being on earth likes about you. It's about finding someone who likes what other people don't. It is also about finding someone who truly cares about your well being.
I travel to parts of my town that are not exactly ideal. If for no other reason than it's typically not a good idea to stop and ask directions from people when they appear to be midway through a drug transaction. I mean, I'm guessing it's a bad idea. I don't know for sure because I haven't tried it. Matt told me not to. What he did instead was buy me a GPS, which was something I was really against. He assured me that it would be a wonderful idea. Today, I was driving from one not so great area to another not so great area and was very happy to know that I was in fact headed in the correct direction. Today was a day when I really and TRULY needed a GPS and appreciated having it. I also appreciated Matt looking up various addresses for me when I had forgotten to get them before I left. He is a good, good man!
Thank you Matt!
I travel to parts of my town that are not exactly ideal. If for no other reason than it's typically not a good idea to stop and ask directions from people when they appear to be midway through a drug transaction. I mean, I'm guessing it's a bad idea. I don't know for sure because I haven't tried it. Matt told me not to. What he did instead was buy me a GPS, which was something I was really against. He assured me that it would be a wonderful idea. Today, I was driving from one not so great area to another not so great area and was very happy to know that I was in fact headed in the correct direction. Today was a day when I really and TRULY needed a GPS and appreciated having it. I also appreciated Matt looking up various addresses for me when I had forgotten to get them before I left. He is a good, good man!
Thank you Matt!
Monday, January 7, 2013
Shhhh......it's a secret.
So here's the thing. I hate that whole "Autism? Oh, wow. I don't know how you do it." Well, here's how I do it. I get up, I do what has to be done. I repeat. Now I certainly realize that there are parents out there who make another kind of choice (bite my tongue, bite my tongue, bite my tongue) but all in all, it really just is what it is. Having said that....
I don't like when people act like it's nothing either. I once heard a woman, who worked with children who have SIGNIFICANT developmental disabilities, say that she understood how those parents felt because she had twins and that was really the same thing. It takes her twice as long to bathe and feed twins as a singlet. It's harder to find a good sitter. No difference between that and cerebral palsy, or autism. Uhhhh, yes there is. Because those twins started walking at 18 months, talking at 2 years and if they don't become financially independent people who get a driver's license, go to prom, have a first job, first kiss, first marriage (ok, hopefully they have just one) it's not because it was developmentally out of reach. It's because they had really stupid parents. Which I think they do. And they will still get to experience things in life that Sam won't.
Basically, I don't need a parade, but don't you dare steal my thunder!!!!
This brings me to today's "thank you." I was commenting about finagling a particular situation that I think will be more challenging because of Sam's autism. When someone voiced an opinion that it was no different than what other parents do, one person stood up for me. The dissenter had a total right to that opinion and was not necessarily offensive or mean, but it was still nice that the other person had my back. Especially because this person is not one of the million warrior moms (no, that term was NOT made up by Jenny McCarthy) I know who would take out a linebacker for overstepping a boundary about developmental disability. I am not giving any more detail, because it wouldn't make a difference to the reader, and the "thank you" recipient is the type to prefer anonymity. Besides, this is such a common scenario, it could have happened any day.
Basically, it's a Carly Simon, "You're so Vain" kind of moment. I BET you think this post is about you. Deep down, I kind of hope you do.
I don't like when people act like it's nothing either. I once heard a woman, who worked with children who have SIGNIFICANT developmental disabilities, say that she understood how those parents felt because she had twins and that was really the same thing. It takes her twice as long to bathe and feed twins as a singlet. It's harder to find a good sitter. No difference between that and cerebral palsy, or autism. Uhhhh, yes there is. Because those twins started walking at 18 months, talking at 2 years and if they don't become financially independent people who get a driver's license, go to prom, have a first job, first kiss, first marriage (ok, hopefully they have just one) it's not because it was developmentally out of reach. It's because they had really stupid parents. Which I think they do. And they will still get to experience things in life that Sam won't.
Basically, I don't need a parade, but don't you dare steal my thunder!!!!
This brings me to today's "thank you." I was commenting about finagling a particular situation that I think will be more challenging because of Sam's autism. When someone voiced an opinion that it was no different than what other parents do, one person stood up for me. The dissenter had a total right to that opinion and was not necessarily offensive or mean, but it was still nice that the other person had my back. Especially because this person is not one of the million warrior moms (no, that term was NOT made up by Jenny McCarthy) I know who would take out a linebacker for overstepping a boundary about developmental disability. I am not giving any more detail, because it wouldn't make a difference to the reader, and the "thank you" recipient is the type to prefer anonymity. Besides, this is such a common scenario, it could have happened any day.
Basically, it's a Carly Simon, "You're so Vain" kind of moment. I BET you think this post is about you. Deep down, I kind of hope you do.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Tyler
Yesterday's thank you carries over to today. Max's project for English was a major motion picture undertaking. I'm sure you will see it on the Golden Globes next week. A project of such incredible magnitude can only be accomplished with top notch talent. Fortunately, we know a boy who can sing AND act. Luckily, his mother was willing to throw him out of bed at a moments notice to assist us. Even luckier, Tyler is a very nice 14 year old boy who doesn't mind being thrown out of bed to help.
Can you believe a teenage boy was willing to give up his time on his LAST Saturday of Winter break to help somebody else complete their homework? You know what else? Any time he comes to our house, he makes a point of saying "hi" to Sam. He took the time to look at Sam's new train after Christmas. That just screams nice boy, doesn't it? Thank you Tyler for helping with Max's project. Thank you for being so sweet to Sam. And thank you Kelly and Jeff for raising such a very nice boy!
Can you believe a teenage boy was willing to give up his time on his LAST Saturday of Winter break to help somebody else complete their homework? You know what else? Any time he comes to our house, he makes a point of saying "hi" to Sam. He took the time to look at Sam's new train after Christmas. That just screams nice boy, doesn't it? Thank you Tyler for helping with Max's project. Thank you for being so sweet to Sam. And thank you Kelly and Jeff for raising such a very nice boy!
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Emily
Today's thank you goes to..........drum roll.........my niece Emily! Max had a project to do and waited until the last minute (who did he get THAT from?) He had to create a video for English class. Emily helped film and then showed Max how to find and use the editing software.
Emily did not talk as early as her brother. Truth be told, Michael probably just wouldn't let her get a word in edgewise. I still remember her at 2, being in my apartment, tugging on my hand and saying "Make cookies." It was the first time she talked to me. She was cute with big blue eyes and blond hair. Emily never complained that when I babysat, I ALWAYS made them watch "Beauty and the Beast." (Is there any better movie line than, "Well, there are the usual things, flowers, chocolates, promises you don't intend to keep.") Makes me a little sorry for all those times I sang "I see London, I see France, I see Emily's underpants!" But only a little sorry. I mean really, if I hadn't sung that at a key point in her development who knows what kind of fashion nonsense she might emulate.
Emily, thank you for taking time out of your life to help your cousin with homework. I'm sure you had better things to do. It's nice to have a niece like you!
Emily did not talk as early as her brother. Truth be told, Michael probably just wouldn't let her get a word in edgewise. I still remember her at 2, being in my apartment, tugging on my hand and saying "Make cookies." It was the first time she talked to me. She was cute with big blue eyes and blond hair. Emily never complained that when I babysat, I ALWAYS made them watch "Beauty and the Beast." (Is there any better movie line than, "Well, there are the usual things, flowers, chocolates, promises you don't intend to keep.") Makes me a little sorry for all those times I sang "I see London, I see France, I see Emily's underpants!" But only a little sorry. I mean really, if I hadn't sung that at a key point in her development who knows what kind of fashion nonsense she might emulate.
Emily, thank you for taking time out of your life to help your cousin with homework. I'm sure you had better things to do. It's nice to have a niece like you!
Friday, January 4, 2013
My Mom
Well, of COURSE my mom is going to show up on this list. In truth, I could probably make my mom the only recipient of my "thankfulness" for the entire year and it still wouldn't be enough to cover even half of what she has done for me. There are all the usual reasons (giving birth, taking care of me when I was sick, not drowning me when I was a teenager) but there is much MUCH more to my mom. For today I will just stick to this one simple, small by comparison to everything else thing: thank you for watching my kids so I can take my required training class. If it weren't for my mom, I would have to choose between keeping my job or caring for my kids. I'm glad I don't have to choose.
Ironically, she will be incredibly irritated when she receives my thank you note. In person she would say something like "Oh, please! Don't be goofy." She will say it because in her mind, moms do for their children what they do because they are moms and that is what moms do. Like a zebra having stripes. It has them because if it didn't, it wouldn't be a zebra. She will be further irritated that it is on this blog. "CAROL ANN!!!! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NOT PUT THINGS ABOUT ME ON THE INTERNET." Apparently not enough!
Ironically, she will be incredibly irritated when she receives my thank you note. In person she would say something like "Oh, please! Don't be goofy." She will say it because in her mind, moms do for their children what they do because they are moms and that is what moms do. Like a zebra having stripes. It has them because if it didn't, it wouldn't be a zebra. She will be further irritated that it is on this blog. "CAROL ANN!!!! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NOT PUT THINGS ABOUT ME ON THE INTERNET." Apparently not enough!
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Day 2: Michelle
If you are reading this, I assume you already know, but maybe not. Teenager number 2 has autism. That has a tendency to throw a wrench in many "normal" things. When Sam was small, going to the grocery store meant buying another box of Captain Crunch. It didn't matter that we already has 6 at home. We had to buy box number 7 because that was the routine at the grocery store. Sam is older now and no longer needs to buy the exact same thing every time we go to the store. In fact, this Christmas, we walked on the wild side. He did not receive even one present that was a duplicate of something he already had.
Medical treatment for the child with autism is not like medical treatment for other kids. We don't just eenie, meenie, minie moe it through the white pages. We have to look for very specific things. Sometimes that means our only choice is the local Children's Hospital because they have the "hugger." That's what it's called when your child has autism. When you are watching "One Flew Over the Coo Coo's Nest", they call it a straight jacket. The hugger comes in a variety of appealing cheerful colors. Just in case you were wondering.
Sam's first visit to the dentist was a hospital dentist. There was lots of flailing, screaming, crying, and running around. Sam was the screaming, flailing, and running around. I took care of the crying part. Over time, he learned to like the dentist. I learned not to cry. That is a story in itself, which I may get into later. What is pertinent at this moment are these two facts. One, I am a single parent with a limited number of days off. I do not have the luxury of scheduling doctor's appointments on work days. Two, Sam has made tremendous progress with regard to dental exams.
I had a bad experience trying to get an appointment for Sam at the hospital clinic in December. I called my hygienist to get suggestions. She is the type who is up for anything and told me to bring him to the pediatric dental office where she was working. I did. It went really well. He loved every plaque scraping, flossing moment. That was the start to my new year. I took Sam to the dentist. A REGULAR dentist. Like other parents do. It was a little slice of dental heaven.
Today I am thanking Michelle for encouraging me to try a new dentist.
Medical treatment for the child with autism is not like medical treatment for other kids. We don't just eenie, meenie, minie moe it through the white pages. We have to look for very specific things. Sometimes that means our only choice is the local Children's Hospital because they have the "hugger." That's what it's called when your child has autism. When you are watching "One Flew Over the Coo Coo's Nest", they call it a straight jacket. The hugger comes in a variety of appealing cheerful colors. Just in case you were wondering.
Sam's first visit to the dentist was a hospital dentist. There was lots of flailing, screaming, crying, and running around. Sam was the screaming, flailing, and running around. I took care of the crying part. Over time, he learned to like the dentist. I learned not to cry. That is a story in itself, which I may get into later. What is pertinent at this moment are these two facts. One, I am a single parent with a limited number of days off. I do not have the luxury of scheduling doctor's appointments on work days. Two, Sam has made tremendous progress with regard to dental exams.
I had a bad experience trying to get an appointment for Sam at the hospital clinic in December. I called my hygienist to get suggestions. She is the type who is up for anything and told me to bring him to the pediatric dental office where she was working. I did. It went really well. He loved every plaque scraping, flossing moment. That was the start to my new year. I took Sam to the dentist. A REGULAR dentist. Like other parents do. It was a little slice of dental heaven.
Today I am thanking Michelle for encouraging me to try a new dentist.
Why Send a Thank You Note? and Kelee
January is the time of year when we make lots of promises to do things that are good for us and make others happy. It's a little like getting married. We all have wonderful intentions because nobody mentions unemployment, disabled children, or skid marks on undies. Nebulous threats of death seem pretty doable when cake and champagne are just around the corner. Likewise, when we resolve to lose weight, we aren't thinking about Super Bowl Sunday nachos or boxes of Valentine's Day chocolates. Oh, no! We are only thinking of the good intentions and happy feelings of the new beginning on which we are about to embark. Or maybe we are a lemming willing to jump off the cliff lest we miss out on something that everybody else is doing. Whatever the reason, it is typically a sure fire way to start the year with a great big fail! So I avoid resolutions....usually. Not this year. Here's why.
I have been in a funk the better part of 2012. I could list a bunch of reasons to justify my mood, but they are all shallow and selfish. In truth, I have much to be happy about. I am gainfully employed at a time when many people are not. I own a home, in the sense that the bank allows me to call it mine as long as I send them money the first of each month until I'm 72. I have three beautiful children whose only joy in life is honoring their mother. That one is a lie. I have three teenagers who aren't completely horrified to be seen with me in public and are willing to eat dinner with me on a regular basis. That is as close to parent heaven as one can get. I also come from a pretty tight family, have awesome neighbors and enjoy good health. On top of that, I have a very good man in my life who thinks my crazy is cute. Really, could life be better?
Why...of course it could! Haven't you been posting on Facebook, perusing Pinterest or surfing the internet? There is more I tell you. MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE!!!! Always more, always better, always something else I want and don't have. With such an inflated view of the world, how could my life not be deflated by reality? Which brings me to my resolution.
I was on Facebook and saw a Pinterest pin (sadly this is not a joke) that caught my eye. You are supposed to write good things that happen to you on a piece of paper. You fold them up and put them in a jar over the entire year. At the end of the year, you pull them all out and read them to remind yourself about all the great things that happened in 2013. Hmm. Close, but not quite there. Lots of focus on just me (yeah!) without enough attention on how much others do for me (boo!) I may be shallow, but I can see the vicious cycle with this one.
After much thought, Okay, a little thought, I came up with this idea instead. I am going to write a "Thank You" note to someone every day. There is one rule. It must be handwritten. No texts or e-mails. That made my kids gasp because my cell phone is pretty much an appendage at this point. My youngest, a twelve year old girl who makes lists, journals, reads books like "The Five People You Meet in Heaven" and does other girl things I have never partaken of myself, loved the idea. My son, who is as likely to write a thank you note as I am, tried to talk me out of it. Even when he pointed out that a year has 365 days (I'm not good at math, so that was a valid point) I didn't let him discourage me. Instead, I decided to document this attempt here because there is nothing like the threat of humiliation or retaliation to motivate you to stick to a goal. So here it goes.
I started yesterday with my friend Kelee, a long time BFF from back in the day. She is the kind of friend who knows everything and will tell if I need to be put in my place. Like I said, retaliation and humiliation are quite the equalizer for me. Over the years, she has been there through many of my heartaches, both real and imagined. She has been with me on many a stupid ill-fated adventure. Why should this be any different? Kelee, thanks for being my friend.
(And yes, you sticklers. Yesterday was the 2nd, so I started this a day late. I am a procrastinator by nature. I gave it up one year, but didn't start until mid May and got behind by memorial day.)
I have been in a funk the better part of 2012. I could list a bunch of reasons to justify my mood, but they are all shallow and selfish. In truth, I have much to be happy about. I am gainfully employed at a time when many people are not. I own a home, in the sense that the bank allows me to call it mine as long as I send them money the first of each month until I'm 72. I have three beautiful children whose only joy in life is honoring their mother. That one is a lie. I have three teenagers who aren't completely horrified to be seen with me in public and are willing to eat dinner with me on a regular basis. That is as close to parent heaven as one can get. I also come from a pretty tight family, have awesome neighbors and enjoy good health. On top of that, I have a very good man in my life who thinks my crazy is cute. Really, could life be better?
Why...of course it could! Haven't you been posting on Facebook, perusing Pinterest or surfing the internet? There is more I tell you. MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE!!!! Always more, always better, always something else I want and don't have. With such an inflated view of the world, how could my life not be deflated by reality? Which brings me to my resolution.
I was on Facebook and saw a Pinterest pin (sadly this is not a joke) that caught my eye. You are supposed to write good things that happen to you on a piece of paper. You fold them up and put them in a jar over the entire year. At the end of the year, you pull them all out and read them to remind yourself about all the great things that happened in 2013. Hmm. Close, but not quite there. Lots of focus on just me (yeah!) without enough attention on how much others do for me (boo!) I may be shallow, but I can see the vicious cycle with this one.
After much thought, Okay, a little thought, I came up with this idea instead. I am going to write a "Thank You" note to someone every day. There is one rule. It must be handwritten. No texts or e-mails. That made my kids gasp because my cell phone is pretty much an appendage at this point. My youngest, a twelve year old girl who makes lists, journals, reads books like "The Five People You Meet in Heaven" and does other girl things I have never partaken of myself, loved the idea. My son, who is as likely to write a thank you note as I am, tried to talk me out of it. Even when he pointed out that a year has 365 days (I'm not good at math, so that was a valid point) I didn't let him discourage me. Instead, I decided to document this attempt here because there is nothing like the threat of humiliation or retaliation to motivate you to stick to a goal. So here it goes.
I started yesterday with my friend Kelee, a long time BFF from back in the day. She is the kind of friend who knows everything and will tell if I need to be put in my place. Like I said, retaliation and humiliation are quite the equalizer for me. Over the years, she has been there through many of my heartaches, both real and imagined. She has been with me on many a stupid ill-fated adventure. Why should this be any different? Kelee, thanks for being my friend.
(And yes, you sticklers. Yesterday was the 2nd, so I started this a day late. I am a procrastinator by nature. I gave it up one year, but didn't start until mid May and got behind by memorial day.)
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