Sometimes in meetings, I wanted more honesty from the teachers, therapists, counselors, and specialists. Other times I appreciated their tendency to find the good. Also most professionals, myself included, prefer to avoid prophecy for the success or failure of an individual, particularly since there seem to be very few foolproof ingredients for determining the future. Yet obviously for an autistic child, the future does tend to be limited and sometimes parents need to think about what a child can or can't do and how that will affect the future.
In public school we work to identify those "at risk" students, the ones who for whatever reason display enough problems to be concerned about their possible graduation from high school. We then target those individuals and try to teach them a trade, a skill, knowing they may not be college bound but helping them become contributing citizens. In the case of autistic child, being at risk is not always obvious in light of a child's latent intelligence and display of some cognitive retention. Because of this, parents and teachers find themselves in a quandary on the best way to serve the needs of autistic children that prepares them for the future, a future that is unpredictable.
That said, most of our ARD meetings we heard the things that Joel can do but not much on what Joel cannot do. Had we received direct assessment on the weaknesses, it might have helped us in determining Joel's future. But, parents are rarely emotionally objective enough to deal with the honesty factor about their children. This makes for a healthy tension in meetings with professionals who although confident in their assessment of children and often have evaluation instruments to help organize their system, are not comfortable making recommendations that would limit the potential of an autistic child.
Parents should beware, however, of the tendency to paint a rosier picture than the reality dictates. Some of this is due to the fear of being accused of not striving for dismissal of the special education modifications and the specific problems. But the wise parent knows that only a combination of professional assessment, parental instinct, and the relentless quest for answers through dedicated effort can supply the kind of accurate evaluation needed for an autistic child.
Another ironic consideration for determining the future is that while there is no cure for autism, most autistic children learn how to cope or at least adjust to the world by the time they exit their teenage years. Some of this is due to maturation and some of this is due to experience. They finally comprehend at least to a point the complex world of innuendo, expressions, cliches, and sarcasm. This makes them appear to be less "autistic" and more in tune with social happenings around them. So in this respect, the autistic adult is able to fit in and become an contributing adult.
For our son Joel, the school did a superb job of providing an excellent education for him and preparing him for the future. For us, we simply did the best we could.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
The Meetings with Professionals
In Texas they are called ARD meetings. Other states have similar systems for targeting, teaching, and guiding the child in special education. Granted that not all autistic children require special education services, however, many do and whether there are learning disabilities or not associated with autism, it is likely that a child with autism will result in lengthy parental meetings with school officials. Let's take a few minutes to discuss the ARD meeting process.
Admission, Review, and Dismissal, shortened to ARD, are the terms used in special education. The idea being that a school targets the child's needs and admits him to the services required. The school then reviews the needs and determines the level of special needs required. And in some cases, the dismissal process means that the child has accomplished the stated goals and is dismissed from requiring special education services. An ARD meeting works to see what are the goals, is the school providing the necessary services for those goals, and is the child progressing in the pursuit of the goals.
An ARD meeting can involve many people around a table including lots of reports, lots of forms, and lots of discussion. Administrators, special education specialists, and school counselors always get a little nervous due to the state's mandate to attend to all children and their needs. If a parent demands a certain service and the child qualifies for that service, then the school must provide a way to meet that need regardless of the cost. While money is never discussed in an ARD meeting, there is always a cost to every educational service. A reality of which administrators are keenly aware.
Because autism is a broad spectrum disability, it is often accompanied by other challenges that are addressed in ARD meetings. While there should be an autism counselor or psychologist available, most likely there will also be several other people involved in the meeting. Each disability or area of weakness as defined by the norms of the system is then dealt with independently and requires a specialist. These may or may not include help in speech therapy, physical therapy, reading, behavior, occupational therapy, a principal, counselor, music teacher, physical education teacher, classroom teacher or teachers, an assessment team, anyone involved in hearing or visual impairments, and even sometimes the child! The meeting designs an IEP (Individualized Education Plan) and assesses how that plan is being met.
While it all seems daunting and can often make a parent swim in fear and confusion, it is solely designed to meet the child's needs. The rights of the child and the parent reign supreme and are constantly considered in all discussion. Everything is documented and parents have a right and often requirement to keep all copies of anything recorded on the child. The result of this procedure is often mountains of papers on the child. Because of this, parents will need to set aside a filing cabinet or several drawers of information on the child. While it seems massively unnecessary to keep everything, there is a by-product of benefit in referencing all documents.
The collective assessment of the child, including any and all doctor visits, becomes necessary for documentation in the case of guardianship hearings or state aid. If a parent has any remote idea the child may need medical benefits or residential help at any time in his life, the documentation of the disabilities is essential.
Regardless of the complexity of the meetings and the exhausting effort by teachers, professionals, paraprofessionals, and parents, in the end it is about the child. Tenacity and relentless pursuit of help for the child is always worth it in the end.
Admission, Review, and Dismissal, shortened to ARD, are the terms used in special education. The idea being that a school targets the child's needs and admits him to the services required. The school then reviews the needs and determines the level of special needs required. And in some cases, the dismissal process means that the child has accomplished the stated goals and is dismissed from requiring special education services. An ARD meeting works to see what are the goals, is the school providing the necessary services for those goals, and is the child progressing in the pursuit of the goals.
An ARD meeting can involve many people around a table including lots of reports, lots of forms, and lots of discussion. Administrators, special education specialists, and school counselors always get a little nervous due to the state's mandate to attend to all children and their needs. If a parent demands a certain service and the child qualifies for that service, then the school must provide a way to meet that need regardless of the cost. While money is never discussed in an ARD meeting, there is always a cost to every educational service. A reality of which administrators are keenly aware.
Because autism is a broad spectrum disability, it is often accompanied by other challenges that are addressed in ARD meetings. While there should be an autism counselor or psychologist available, most likely there will also be several other people involved in the meeting. Each disability or area of weakness as defined by the norms of the system is then dealt with independently and requires a specialist. These may or may not include help in speech therapy, physical therapy, reading, behavior, occupational therapy, a principal, counselor, music teacher, physical education teacher, classroom teacher or teachers, an assessment team, anyone involved in hearing or visual impairments, and even sometimes the child! The meeting designs an IEP (Individualized Education Plan) and assesses how that plan is being met.
While it all seems daunting and can often make a parent swim in fear and confusion, it is solely designed to meet the child's needs. The rights of the child and the parent reign supreme and are constantly considered in all discussion. Everything is documented and parents have a right and often requirement to keep all copies of anything recorded on the child. The result of this procedure is often mountains of papers on the child. Because of this, parents will need to set aside a filing cabinet or several drawers of information on the child. While it seems massively unnecessary to keep everything, there is a by-product of benefit in referencing all documents.
The collective assessment of the child, including any and all doctor visits, becomes necessary for documentation in the case of guardianship hearings or state aid. If a parent has any remote idea the child may need medical benefits or residential help at any time in his life, the documentation of the disabilities is essential.
Regardless of the complexity of the meetings and the exhausting effort by teachers, professionals, paraprofessionals, and parents, in the end it is about the child. Tenacity and relentless pursuit of help for the child is always worth it in the end.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Teacher Tips
The autistic child does not learn nor respond in any kind of typical, expected manner. Often teacher's feel slighted or not respected by an autistic child due to the lack of obedience or sometimes even acknowledgment of a teacher's authority. This makes for an untenable situation for both the child and the teacher. What follows are some tips to avoid just such situations and provide a learning atmosphere that allows autistic children to succeed.
Children with autism work better with greater success in controlled, quiet environments. While much research has been documented that active, creative, and even noisy classrooms often benefit the educational process, for an autistic child, the more ordered and calm the climate, the better. This means that a child with autism is better suited for certain personality teacher types. This is no reflection on the quality of a teacher, but simply a reminder to administrators and teachers that not all teachers are well-suited for children with autism.
Since autistic children think in pictures, it is necessary for instructions to be written down and even supported by pictures when possible. This includes details for mundane activities such as lunch or snack time or recess. Often pointing at an ordered schedule that includes a step by step approach can save in the frustration of verbal instructions that are not easily understood. Materials for school should be readily accessible and perhaps numbered for reference. I recall when Joel spent several days not eating the lunch we gave to him which included spaghetti in a little bowl. Finally after several questions and confusing moments at home, we realized he would not eat without a fork. In our minds, he could simply walk over to the forks at the cafeteria and get one, but in his mind he simply did not have one and therefore could not eat.
More patience is needed in dealing with autistic children. Remember that words heard (and an autistic child may actually not hear the words due to being caught up in something else) are visually imagined before they are interpreted as to their meaning. This means that it takes double the amount of time to understand what is being said. Patience may be the single most important concept a teacher needs to remember when dealing with autistic children.
Unfortunately in today's world of classroom instruction, we often create learning environments that are collective. While in some ways this is beneficial to autistic children, in that they need to learn how to respond in a group setting, mostly it is confusing and frightening. When possible a school needs to provide some kind of individual instruction either from professionals or paraprofessionals or in some instances peers. Peer guidance is vitally necessary in the classroom and can be a key ingredient for the autistic child provided it is the right kind of peer.
Tests, assignments, and projects require limited problems per page. When an autistic child encounters 10 or more questions, he gets overwhelmed and has trouble completing the first one. Fewer problems on a page, even though it causes more pages, results in a feeling of accomplishment and goals. Connected to this is the inevitable mistake. A spelling error on the paper or a cut-off letter from a poor copy can shut down the learning for the child who is unable to get past the problem. Teachers must make extra effort to present a clean copy free of mistakes to the autistic child.
Homework may be necessary at times and even educationally valuable to most children but to an autistic child and his parents, it is torture and suffering at home. Parents may or may not understand the expectation for the homework and without written instructions, the homework will likely not be done accurately. Furthermore the distractions and requirements of home are not generally conducive for careful attention to homework. A 10 minute project often takes 2 to 3 hours to complete.
Money and value of objects have little to no meaning to an autistic child. Teachers may work to point out how specific values of objects or spend time explaining how money works, but much of that remains a mystery to the child. For example, an autistic child may one minute write on a tissue and then later on a desk or in a book. To the child, it is all the same--a place to write or draw, but to a teacher, the child has defaced a valuable object.
One of the most difficult things facing a teacher and a parent is the idea of punishment. All children (and adults for that matter) require punishment occasionally in order to learn correct behavior. Many schools have a system of check marks or name on a board or some kind of warning system. After three of these, the child must put head down or do extra work or perhaps see the principal. Unfortunately for the autistic child, very little of this makes sense. Yelling, physical punishment, isolation do not generally have great meaning. When punishment is necessary, it is best to use it in some kind of positive way by temporarily denying that which is valued by the child. "Because you hit Johnny on the playground, you will not get to draw on your paper this afternoon." In this instance, a picture showing the improper behavior would likely get better results.
If teachers will keep in mind the need for written, simple instructions, an ordered and quiet environment, specific and limited goals, and great patience in all things, the autistic child can actually be a great help in a classroom. Correcting spelling or grammar mistakes, placing the books in order, organizing the materials, or getting the papers straight can all be exercises that are beneficial to the child as well as the classroom. Mostly teachers and administrators have to recognize the individual requirements of the child and work to meet those needs as much as possible.
Children with autism work better with greater success in controlled, quiet environments. While much research has been documented that active, creative, and even noisy classrooms often benefit the educational process, for an autistic child, the more ordered and calm the climate, the better. This means that a child with autism is better suited for certain personality teacher types. This is no reflection on the quality of a teacher, but simply a reminder to administrators and teachers that not all teachers are well-suited for children with autism.
Since autistic children think in pictures, it is necessary for instructions to be written down and even supported by pictures when possible. This includes details for mundane activities such as lunch or snack time or recess. Often pointing at an ordered schedule that includes a step by step approach can save in the frustration of verbal instructions that are not easily understood. Materials for school should be readily accessible and perhaps numbered for reference. I recall when Joel spent several days not eating the lunch we gave to him which included spaghetti in a little bowl. Finally after several questions and confusing moments at home, we realized he would not eat without a fork. In our minds, he could simply walk over to the forks at the cafeteria and get one, but in his mind he simply did not have one and therefore could not eat.
More patience is needed in dealing with autistic children. Remember that words heard (and an autistic child may actually not hear the words due to being caught up in something else) are visually imagined before they are interpreted as to their meaning. This means that it takes double the amount of time to understand what is being said. Patience may be the single most important concept a teacher needs to remember when dealing with autistic children.
Unfortunately in today's world of classroom instruction, we often create learning environments that are collective. While in some ways this is beneficial to autistic children, in that they need to learn how to respond in a group setting, mostly it is confusing and frightening. When possible a school needs to provide some kind of individual instruction either from professionals or paraprofessionals or in some instances peers. Peer guidance is vitally necessary in the classroom and can be a key ingredient for the autistic child provided it is the right kind of peer.
Tests, assignments, and projects require limited problems per page. When an autistic child encounters 10 or more questions, he gets overwhelmed and has trouble completing the first one. Fewer problems on a page, even though it causes more pages, results in a feeling of accomplishment and goals. Connected to this is the inevitable mistake. A spelling error on the paper or a cut-off letter from a poor copy can shut down the learning for the child who is unable to get past the problem. Teachers must make extra effort to present a clean copy free of mistakes to the autistic child.
Homework may be necessary at times and even educationally valuable to most children but to an autistic child and his parents, it is torture and suffering at home. Parents may or may not understand the expectation for the homework and without written instructions, the homework will likely not be done accurately. Furthermore the distractions and requirements of home are not generally conducive for careful attention to homework. A 10 minute project often takes 2 to 3 hours to complete.
Money and value of objects have little to no meaning to an autistic child. Teachers may work to point out how specific values of objects or spend time explaining how money works, but much of that remains a mystery to the child. For example, an autistic child may one minute write on a tissue and then later on a desk or in a book. To the child, it is all the same--a place to write or draw, but to a teacher, the child has defaced a valuable object.
One of the most difficult things facing a teacher and a parent is the idea of punishment. All children (and adults for that matter) require punishment occasionally in order to learn correct behavior. Many schools have a system of check marks or name on a board or some kind of warning system. After three of these, the child must put head down or do extra work or perhaps see the principal. Unfortunately for the autistic child, very little of this makes sense. Yelling, physical punishment, isolation do not generally have great meaning. When punishment is necessary, it is best to use it in some kind of positive way by temporarily denying that which is valued by the child. "Because you hit Johnny on the playground, you will not get to draw on your paper this afternoon." In this instance, a picture showing the improper behavior would likely get better results.
If teachers will keep in mind the need for written, simple instructions, an ordered and quiet environment, specific and limited goals, and great patience in all things, the autistic child can actually be a great help in a classroom. Correcting spelling or grammar mistakes, placing the books in order, organizing the materials, or getting the papers straight can all be exercises that are beneficial to the child as well as the classroom. Mostly teachers and administrators have to recognize the individual requirements of the child and work to meet those needs as much as possible.
Books and Writers
Being a bookworm almost since birth, and now a book collector, I enjoy writing about books and various writers. Although I lean toward modern fiction, I also enjoy biographies, history, and the occasional non-fiction book on management or leadership. Doubtful this essay will have any interest to anyone, I still feel a need to discuss some books I have lately enjoyed. My library gives me pleasure and I often find myself in my home office studying the books and thinking about the different writers. Now with over 100 Amazon book reviews, I am comfortable reviewing books of all types. It does intrigue me that following a review that is considered "not helpful" usually my reviews are no longer read! This says something about human nature, but that is a subject for another day.
Earlier blogs have discussed my tendency to get immersed in certain writers, reading everything written and learning their style at a furious pace. This trait has cooled some but is still prevalent as I continue to enjoy reading. I read approximately 3 books at one time and complete around two per week depending on the week and the kind of books being read. For example, I started Fall of Giants by Ken Follett but set it aside for some shorter books for now. I'll get back to it at some point although I must admit to being lukewarm about Follett's writing style. Informative and story-like but a little bit primitive and elementary at times. Also he seems to enjoy writing about events and suffering without delving into the emotions of those sad situations. When a writer does so, it is hard to connect to the people and by the end of the book, we feel like we have read about several cool things but don't really know anyone better. That said, I will read Fall of Giants and have read almost everything Follett as written.
Recently I began reading Robert B. Parker of Spenser fame. His detective stories are usually fairly commonplace--bad guy or guys kill someone and detective figures it out--but his scenes of therapy and rendering justice along the way are amazing. His strange "street" language is blended with a high vocabulary and remarkable human perception. It makes for bestselling writing on mental steroids. Easy to read, energetic stories, humorous at times, serious at others, but definitely entertaining and enlightening. Can't go wrong with a Robert Parker book. My favorite? Maybe Resolution or Double Play. Good stuff.
The books of Richard Marius have interested me lately. His biography of Martin Luther is truly masterful as are his essays. I decided to read his fiction and jumped into The Coming of Rain. Eventually I landed on An Affair of Honor and decided Marius is one the finest and most underrated writers of our time. He passed away from cancer a few years ago after a long and distinguished although somewhat controversial career at Harvard. I visited with his widow several years just a few weeks after his death. Richard Marius may not have written enough to secure his place among great writers but what he wrote and accomplished needs to be remembered. It was with great excitement that I found a beautiful copy of the biography of Thomas More. Marius's dedicated commitment to excellence is found in every word, every paragraph, and every book he produced. Favorite? An Affair of Honor is masterful but so is the biography of Martin Luther.
Fun reading is always available by Dean Koontz, Harlan Coben, and David Baldacci. None of these are especially profound although there is always something in their writings to allow for a moment or two of intellectual consideration. These are all fine writers and worth a read every time. Of course you can't go wrong with David Morrell or James Lee Burke both of which write thrillers with complex depth and wonderful writing style. Elmer Kelton provides some great Western writing and I have read nearly everything by Larry McMurtry. The masterful writings of Philip Roth and Cormac McCarthy are to be included in my list of favorite writers with The Road taking center stage as a gripping book for all time. Roth's Human Stain is an incredible book that should reside on every college professor's shelf.
Recently I have found myself engrossed in Reynolds Price. His style is a little bit uncomfortably personal at times and almost lacks in strong goals. Also he tends to create bold, shocking scenes to give himself a forum for psychological analysis. But he is certainly a fine writer whose books leave a reader changed and wondering about life. Noble Norfleet is a strong book (a little bit adult at times) and Tongues of Angels is very emotionally gripping.
And I continue to read through biographies of Theodore Roosevelt. Nearly done with "Preacher of Righteousness" by Joshua David Hawley, I continue to consider River of Doubt a masterpiece of description and accuracy. Owning nearly all the books written on Roosevelt, I remain admirable of the former President and irritated with him at the same time. Quite a figure for sure.
Books on management are certainly worth reading (just not a steady diet!) and I really like the writing of Patrick Lencioni. He writes a little more creatively than many management writers and has a nice goal-directed sense of how to be successful in leadership. I haven't read much in the way of Romance, Science Fiction, or money management lately, but I probably will. I have been sent four books to review and have enjoyed them. Funny how my endorsement seems valued by some people.
More reading and more gain. I love it and wish I could make a living reading books! Much better than movies, tv, or eating even!
Earlier blogs have discussed my tendency to get immersed in certain writers, reading everything written and learning their style at a furious pace. This trait has cooled some but is still prevalent as I continue to enjoy reading. I read approximately 3 books at one time and complete around two per week depending on the week and the kind of books being read. For example, I started Fall of Giants by Ken Follett but set it aside for some shorter books for now. I'll get back to it at some point although I must admit to being lukewarm about Follett's writing style. Informative and story-like but a little bit primitive and elementary at times. Also he seems to enjoy writing about events and suffering without delving into the emotions of those sad situations. When a writer does so, it is hard to connect to the people and by the end of the book, we feel like we have read about several cool things but don't really know anyone better. That said, I will read Fall of Giants and have read almost everything Follett as written.
Recently I began reading Robert B. Parker of Spenser fame. His detective stories are usually fairly commonplace--bad guy or guys kill someone and detective figures it out--but his scenes of therapy and rendering justice along the way are amazing. His strange "street" language is blended with a high vocabulary and remarkable human perception. It makes for bestselling writing on mental steroids. Easy to read, energetic stories, humorous at times, serious at others, but definitely entertaining and enlightening. Can't go wrong with a Robert Parker book. My favorite? Maybe Resolution or Double Play. Good stuff.
The books of Richard Marius have interested me lately. His biography of Martin Luther is truly masterful as are his essays. I decided to read his fiction and jumped into The Coming of Rain. Eventually I landed on An Affair of Honor and decided Marius is one the finest and most underrated writers of our time. He passed away from cancer a few years ago after a long and distinguished although somewhat controversial career at Harvard. I visited with his widow several years just a few weeks after his death. Richard Marius may not have written enough to secure his place among great writers but what he wrote and accomplished needs to be remembered. It was with great excitement that I found a beautiful copy of the biography of Thomas More. Marius's dedicated commitment to excellence is found in every word, every paragraph, and every book he produced. Favorite? An Affair of Honor is masterful but so is the biography of Martin Luther.
Fun reading is always available by Dean Koontz, Harlan Coben, and David Baldacci. None of these are especially profound although there is always something in their writings to allow for a moment or two of intellectual consideration. These are all fine writers and worth a read every time. Of course you can't go wrong with David Morrell or James Lee Burke both of which write thrillers with complex depth and wonderful writing style. Elmer Kelton provides some great Western writing and I have read nearly everything by Larry McMurtry. The masterful writings of Philip Roth and Cormac McCarthy are to be included in my list of favorite writers with The Road taking center stage as a gripping book for all time. Roth's Human Stain is an incredible book that should reside on every college professor's shelf.
Recently I have found myself engrossed in Reynolds Price. His style is a little bit uncomfortably personal at times and almost lacks in strong goals. Also he tends to create bold, shocking scenes to give himself a forum for psychological analysis. But he is certainly a fine writer whose books leave a reader changed and wondering about life. Noble Norfleet is a strong book (a little bit adult at times) and Tongues of Angels is very emotionally gripping.
And I continue to read through biographies of Theodore Roosevelt. Nearly done with "Preacher of Righteousness" by Joshua David Hawley, I continue to consider River of Doubt a masterpiece of description and accuracy. Owning nearly all the books written on Roosevelt, I remain admirable of the former President and irritated with him at the same time. Quite a figure for sure.
Books on management are certainly worth reading (just not a steady diet!) and I really like the writing of Patrick Lencioni. He writes a little more creatively than many management writers and has a nice goal-directed sense of how to be successful in leadership. I haven't read much in the way of Romance, Science Fiction, or money management lately, but I probably will. I have been sent four books to review and have enjoyed them. Funny how my endorsement seems valued by some people.
More reading and more gain. I love it and wish I could make a living reading books! Much better than movies, tv, or eating even!
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Shopping with Joel
It's always an adventure of sorts when shopping with Joel. Needing some last minute gifts, we headed to Beall's for one or two specific items. I tend to keep a running dialog with Joel, most of which goes unanswered. But I like to talk with him and express my thoughts in the hopes that he will try to relate to my conversation, my feelings, my goals. We spent a few minutes in Bealls with Joel being very perplexed as to why the shirt we got for him for his birthday a few weeks ago was the same one in the package at Bealls. I explained they had several of the same color and type but reminded him we were not there for him but instead were shopping for other people.
Leaving Bealls we walked across the outdoor shopping center and stopped at Burke's Outlet. We walked to the men's section and this time Joel began looking at the ties. It was more difficult this time to get him away until I mentioned we could wait until after Christmas and see if the ties were on sale. He liked that idea and we left. So far, he was not interested in buying something for another person than himself!
Deciding to go to Walmart, we parked several miles (okay, it felt like it anyway) away, and went inside. I reminded Joel several times to stay close which was particularly important since he had forgotten his cell phone. I walked to the left to get some salmon for dinner and when I turned around Joel was gone. Looking for him and nearly panicking, I began to think logically about where he would go. Gummy Worms--his favorite treat! As I headed toward the aisle, here he came holding two packages of Gummy Worms.
I reminded him to stay close to me and we left Walmart (no easy task since Joel stopped and talked and hugged about 5 people on the way out) and headed to J.C. Penney at the mall. We walked into Penneys and Joel once again looked at the shirts and ties. Deciding to go next door to Hibbett Sports and hearing how thirsty he was, I asked him if he would like to go get a drink at Chikfila. He said sure and left while I waited in a line to check out.
Soon he returned holding a milk shake and a big smile on his face. The spoon was in it which was my first concern. He will not use a straw for any kind of ice cream drink. A spoon is always required. But as he stood there, I knew something else was wrong. Soon he said, "Dad, once again we have to deal with the cherry."
Until I removed the cherry, Joel would not drink the shake. He would stand there holding it and staring at the cherry and the drink would go untouched. So I took the cherry out and held it in my hand while checking out of the sports store. Joel said nothing more and waited for me on the bench outside of the store. I sat with him as he finished and we returned to the truck for the trip home.
All in a day of shopping with Joel. The adventure continues!
Leaving Bealls we walked across the outdoor shopping center and stopped at Burke's Outlet. We walked to the men's section and this time Joel began looking at the ties. It was more difficult this time to get him away until I mentioned we could wait until after Christmas and see if the ties were on sale. He liked that idea and we left. So far, he was not interested in buying something for another person than himself!
Deciding to go to Walmart, we parked several miles (okay, it felt like it anyway) away, and went inside. I reminded Joel several times to stay close which was particularly important since he had forgotten his cell phone. I walked to the left to get some salmon for dinner and when I turned around Joel was gone. Looking for him and nearly panicking, I began to think logically about where he would go. Gummy Worms--his favorite treat! As I headed toward the aisle, here he came holding two packages of Gummy Worms.
I reminded him to stay close to me and we left Walmart (no easy task since Joel stopped and talked and hugged about 5 people on the way out) and headed to J.C. Penney at the mall. We walked into Penneys and Joel once again looked at the shirts and ties. Deciding to go next door to Hibbett Sports and hearing how thirsty he was, I asked him if he would like to go get a drink at Chikfila. He said sure and left while I waited in a line to check out.
Soon he returned holding a milk shake and a big smile on his face. The spoon was in it which was my first concern. He will not use a straw for any kind of ice cream drink. A spoon is always required. But as he stood there, I knew something else was wrong. Soon he said, "Dad, once again we have to deal with the cherry."
Until I removed the cherry, Joel would not drink the shake. He would stand there holding it and staring at the cherry and the drink would go untouched. So I took the cherry out and held it in my hand while checking out of the sports store. Joel said nothing more and waited for me on the bench outside of the store. I sat with him as he finished and we returned to the truck for the trip home.
All in a day of shopping with Joel. The adventure continues!
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Thank you, but...
Following Joel's recital, a nice concert of Christmas music played on the organ, there were lots of smiles from people and congratulations were in order to Joel. As the parents, we were and are of course proud of our son, but we also know the 21 years of challenges getting to this point. It hits home when the inevitable well-intentioned person approaches us and says, "Joel is very lucky to have parents like you. You have obviously done a great job of raising him. He would not be where he is without you."
We receive these comments in kindness with the grace and diffidence expected of our position. But it is with mixed emotions that we respond with thank you. While in many ways it is true that Joel is fortunate to have two parents who both care about his growth, his education, his progress, and his condition, in other ways the comment reminds us of Joel's limits. We as parents tend to see his potential, believing in what he can be, and never letting go of the ideal. But what if we have been wrong? What if Joel really has very little potential?
Do other people see something that we do not see? Are we blinded by our love of our son to the point of not being able to act realistically in his best interests? Is Joel's success entirely dependent on our lifting him up? Does he walk on our feet, stand on our legs? Are we the escalator that emotionally and cognitively transports him from one place to another?
Maybe Joel's grandmothers played a significant role as well? Joel's teachers? Joel's friends? Obviously, assuming sole credit would be a selfish parental flaw since raising him was a community effort in many ways.
One of the primary purposes of parenting is to encourage your children to be independent, to make their own choices, to live their own lives, to become adults capable of navigating the turbulent waters of life. For an autistic, however, the capability is greatly limited. The rough waters require a lifeboat and an anchor, a solid protection base and a constant watchful eye for the autistic child or adults.
The thing is this: we grow from adversity and children find ways to be successful in the midst of their failures. When you skin your knee on the playground, you find ways to avoid doing so again while still enjoying the playground experience. For an autistic the skinned knee happened without a direct cause. He likely will not learn from the event and may not be able to correct it next time without some careful teaching. Once again we find the idea of teaching independence to an autistic to be very difficult.
We have spent years working with our son to help him be independent as much as possible, knowing that he will not be able to take care of himself in any kind of totally independent way (of course, this brings to mind what independence even means or if in any of us are entirely independent, but that is another subject for the libertarians of the world!). Are we to be thanked for our efforts? To be affirmed as good parents? To imagine we made a difference in Joel's life? Maybe so, but to me it just seems like our job as parents.
So thank you, but maybe we didn't do well enough. Not sure. We have done the best we could do. For the most part, I guess it has been pretty good.
We receive these comments in kindness with the grace and diffidence expected of our position. But it is with mixed emotions that we respond with thank you. While in many ways it is true that Joel is fortunate to have two parents who both care about his growth, his education, his progress, and his condition, in other ways the comment reminds us of Joel's limits. We as parents tend to see his potential, believing in what he can be, and never letting go of the ideal. But what if we have been wrong? What if Joel really has very little potential?
Do other people see something that we do not see? Are we blinded by our love of our son to the point of not being able to act realistically in his best interests? Is Joel's success entirely dependent on our lifting him up? Does he walk on our feet, stand on our legs? Are we the escalator that emotionally and cognitively transports him from one place to another?
Maybe Joel's grandmothers played a significant role as well? Joel's teachers? Joel's friends? Obviously, assuming sole credit would be a selfish parental flaw since raising him was a community effort in many ways.
One of the primary purposes of parenting is to encourage your children to be independent, to make their own choices, to live their own lives, to become adults capable of navigating the turbulent waters of life. For an autistic, however, the capability is greatly limited. The rough waters require a lifeboat and an anchor, a solid protection base and a constant watchful eye for the autistic child or adults.
The thing is this: we grow from adversity and children find ways to be successful in the midst of their failures. When you skin your knee on the playground, you find ways to avoid doing so again while still enjoying the playground experience. For an autistic the skinned knee happened without a direct cause. He likely will not learn from the event and may not be able to correct it next time without some careful teaching. Once again we find the idea of teaching independence to an autistic to be very difficult.
We have spent years working with our son to help him be independent as much as possible, knowing that he will not be able to take care of himself in any kind of totally independent way (of course, this brings to mind what independence even means or if in any of us are entirely independent, but that is another subject for the libertarians of the world!). Are we to be thanked for our efforts? To be affirmed as good parents? To imagine we made a difference in Joel's life? Maybe so, but to me it just seems like our job as parents.
So thank you, but maybe we didn't do well enough. Not sure. We have done the best we could do. For the most part, I guess it has been pretty good.
The Dress at the Tuckers
Christmas is a funny time and often includes misunderstandings and irony. How often have we received the same gift from two different people? Or given a gift with the price tag on it showing a big sale. Or given someone a gift only to receive the same thing? These things are awkward but make Christmas enjoyable as well.
After driving a considerable distance to have Christmas with my parents, my wife and I looked forward to opening presents. This was "before children" so we were still able to complete sentences back then! I recall the strange/funny time when my mother opened her present from my father and somehow holding her smile said something like, "Wow, this is great, even though I don't wear a size 12, and it is the same kind of dress I picked out for Sallie!" Sallie was the name for my grandmother, my mother's mother, and she was known to everyone simply as Sallie. So my first thought when my mother said these words was that my amazing dad sensed that my mother liked this particular kind of dress, but he didn't know my mom's correct size. His innate perception of people had led him to buy for my mother what she was buying for her own mother.
Then Mom asked Dad where he got the present. He answered at the local clothing store downtown. She said that was where she bought the dress for Sallie. They then looked at each other strangely and he said that he walked up to main counter asked if Jan Tucker had placed anything on layaway. The answer was yes and they produced this dress. Dad, thinking Mom had placed it on layaway for him to purchase for her, bought the dress, had it gift wrapped, and placed it under the tree.
After several confusing looks and awkward explanations, the mystery was cleared up and we had a good laugh. Unfortunately that meant Dad had nothing for Mom which I'm sure he rectified as soon as possible.
Ah, families and Christmas!
After driving a considerable distance to have Christmas with my parents, my wife and I looked forward to opening presents. This was "before children" so we were still able to complete sentences back then! I recall the strange/funny time when my mother opened her present from my father and somehow holding her smile said something like, "Wow, this is great, even though I don't wear a size 12, and it is the same kind of dress I picked out for Sallie!" Sallie was the name for my grandmother, my mother's mother, and she was known to everyone simply as Sallie. So my first thought when my mother said these words was that my amazing dad sensed that my mother liked this particular kind of dress, but he didn't know my mom's correct size. His innate perception of people had led him to buy for my mother what she was buying for her own mother.
Then Mom asked Dad where he got the present. He answered at the local clothing store downtown. She said that was where she bought the dress for Sallie. They then looked at each other strangely and he said that he walked up to main counter asked if Jan Tucker had placed anything on layaway. The answer was yes and they produced this dress. Dad, thinking Mom had placed it on layaway for him to purchase for her, bought the dress, had it gift wrapped, and placed it under the tree.
After several confusing looks and awkward explanations, the mystery was cleared up and we had a good laugh. Unfortunately that meant Dad had nothing for Mom which I'm sure he rectified as soon as possible.
Ah, families and Christmas!
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Protection for Disabled Adults
Joel Tucker, autistic since birth, is now 21. His identification card, bent from use, needed updating due to its reflecting a person younger than 21. So we headed to the Department of Public Safety to get a new ID card. His card is carried around his neck with his house key. This helps him remember his home address and allows others to know him in case he is limited in his verbal expression on any given day. It is readily accessible, visible, and clearly delineates him as possibly needing help or protection. What better way to provide protection for our son than to ask the local law enforcement to update his ID card for him.
We have struggled for years to achieve a balance of letting people know of Joel's disabilities but at the same time needing to allow him to fit in with society. It makes for a healthy tension in our presentation of our son. There have been countless times that I wanted to shout in a megaphone, "My son Joel is autistic and requires more time, patience, and understanding than most people." But how proper is it to label a human as different when there is also great gain in blending in with others? So we walk on the parental tightrope of helping him while encouraging a degree of independence. The ID around his neck is simply a tool to help him and others in case of a situation.
Walking into the Department of Public Safety office, Joel and I approached the desk where I explained that he needed to update his ID card since he was now 21. The lady at the desk shoved a form at us and said to answer questions 1-11. I mentioned he did not have nor need a drivers license. She said we had to fill it out anyway. Joel and I then walked over to the wall, stood at a counter and began answering the questions on the form. No question was difficult but they did require a moment of pause in answering. A funny moment occurred when the fourth question asked if Joel wanted to be an organ donor. He laughed at the question and said no, he wanted to keep all organs. I realized he was thinking about pipe organs not internal human organs. I explained to him about what it actually meant and he decided yes he would donate his organs.
The third question asked if he had any condition in communication that police officers would need to know. Joel said yes and wrote he was verbally disabled, which is true. When we were nearly completed with the form another rather brash lady approached Joel and proceeded to tell him that his current ID was invalid because it had a hole in it. We had punched a hole in his ID card to attach a lanyard to it and hang it around his neck. She was quite critical of this and told Joel he was not to do that again. Joel had no clue about her criticism and simply nodded at her. I interrupted the harsh lady and asked her if she had a better method for Joel to use. We had a brief discussion about using a little window system and placing the ID inside it. Easy enough solution.
We finished the form and returned to the first lady who looked at Joel and said in a loud, rude voice, "Can you talk?" Joel nodded and I began to seethe at her brusqueness. She then said louder, "Can you understand what I am saying to you." As her voice got louder my blood pressure rose several points. Joel looked at her quizzically and said yes he understood her. She said that by answering yes to number three, we would need to fill out several more forms and get a doctor's statement. She said it would be easier to say "NO" that he did not have a condition that prevented communication. I sighed and pointed out that his disability was well-documented at the Social Security office as well as the County courthouse. I then naively asked why the state law enforcement did not have access to the Social Security files or the county information. She told me "we do not operate that way." I shrugged and said okay.
We then filled out the form again with number three as a "NO." After pointing out that Joel was not allowed to be an organ donor since he did not have a drivers license, she took the picture for the card. Finding out the new ID card would arrive in approximately six weeks, we left. As we were leaving, the 2nd harsh lady sort of apologized for her rudeness and said in the military they were not allowed to punch holes in anything. Since that made zero sense to me and I'm sure Joel was completely in the dark on what the military had to do with anything, I simply nodded and said thanks and left.
It was not a good experience and had Joel been by himself, it would have been a disaster. Our world is a difficult one for autistics. Forms, lines, terms, money, people, travel, and social behavior all make for a difficult existence for a disabled adult. Many of the things that are required are a mystery and without patience, kindness, and great tolerance a disabled adult cannot function adequately. I would hope and encourage our "service" departments take on a helpful approach to people and recognize that not everyone is the same. Rude behavior to a young man who cannot fully comprehend the subtleties is unacceptable, in fact rude behavior is unacceptable to anyone. Our son requires protection from the difficult challenges of the world. How sad it is when the challenge comes from the office workers of our law enforcement.
We have struggled for years to achieve a balance of letting people know of Joel's disabilities but at the same time needing to allow him to fit in with society. It makes for a healthy tension in our presentation of our son. There have been countless times that I wanted to shout in a megaphone, "My son Joel is autistic and requires more time, patience, and understanding than most people." But how proper is it to label a human as different when there is also great gain in blending in with others? So we walk on the parental tightrope of helping him while encouraging a degree of independence. The ID around his neck is simply a tool to help him and others in case of a situation.
Walking into the Department of Public Safety office, Joel and I approached the desk where I explained that he needed to update his ID card since he was now 21. The lady at the desk shoved a form at us and said to answer questions 1-11. I mentioned he did not have nor need a drivers license. She said we had to fill it out anyway. Joel and I then walked over to the wall, stood at a counter and began answering the questions on the form. No question was difficult but they did require a moment of pause in answering. A funny moment occurred when the fourth question asked if Joel wanted to be an organ donor. He laughed at the question and said no, he wanted to keep all organs. I realized he was thinking about pipe organs not internal human organs. I explained to him about what it actually meant and he decided yes he would donate his organs.
The third question asked if he had any condition in communication that police officers would need to know. Joel said yes and wrote he was verbally disabled, which is true. When we were nearly completed with the form another rather brash lady approached Joel and proceeded to tell him that his current ID was invalid because it had a hole in it. We had punched a hole in his ID card to attach a lanyard to it and hang it around his neck. She was quite critical of this and told Joel he was not to do that again. Joel had no clue about her criticism and simply nodded at her. I interrupted the harsh lady and asked her if she had a better method for Joel to use. We had a brief discussion about using a little window system and placing the ID inside it. Easy enough solution.
We finished the form and returned to the first lady who looked at Joel and said in a loud, rude voice, "Can you talk?" Joel nodded and I began to seethe at her brusqueness. She then said louder, "Can you understand what I am saying to you." As her voice got louder my blood pressure rose several points. Joel looked at her quizzically and said yes he understood her. She said that by answering yes to number three, we would need to fill out several more forms and get a doctor's statement. She said it would be easier to say "NO" that he did not have a condition that prevented communication. I sighed and pointed out that his disability was well-documented at the Social Security office as well as the County courthouse. I then naively asked why the state law enforcement did not have access to the Social Security files or the county information. She told me "we do not operate that way." I shrugged and said okay.
We then filled out the form again with number three as a "NO." After pointing out that Joel was not allowed to be an organ donor since he did not have a drivers license, she took the picture for the card. Finding out the new ID card would arrive in approximately six weeks, we left. As we were leaving, the 2nd harsh lady sort of apologized for her rudeness and said in the military they were not allowed to punch holes in anything. Since that made zero sense to me and I'm sure Joel was completely in the dark on what the military had to do with anything, I simply nodded and said thanks and left.
It was not a good experience and had Joel been by himself, it would have been a disaster. Our world is a difficult one for autistics. Forms, lines, terms, money, people, travel, and social behavior all make for a difficult existence for a disabled adult. Many of the things that are required are a mystery and without patience, kindness, and great tolerance a disabled adult cannot function adequately. I would hope and encourage our "service" departments take on a helpful approach to people and recognize that not everyone is the same. Rude behavior to a young man who cannot fully comprehend the subtleties is unacceptable, in fact rude behavior is unacceptable to anyone. Our son requires protection from the difficult challenges of the world. How sad it is when the challenge comes from the office workers of our law enforcement.
Attack Dog
I got closer to the house and saw the German Shepherd in the road. He had always been tied up in the past. I enjoy running and often run by the red brick home, a nice home near the highway with a tree house in the front yard tree and a couple of children's bicycles nearby. The family owns three dogs--small, medium, and large--and usually two of the three dogs are loose. Now understand that my knowledge and even love of dogs is somewhat limited. I recognize some types of dogs and have owned several in my life, but overall I don't harbor any great love for animals in general. I'm glad we have dogs in the world and many of them have a pleasant pet-like disposition. I can also certainly see the benefit of a dog in the backyard to warn of predators or potential thieves.
The idea of a dog being man's best friend does not appeal to me and while I respect someone's desire to own one, at this point in my life I prefer not to do so. I will pet them or play with them when I see them and occasionally find myself in one of those strange one sided dog-like conversations. You know the type: "Hey boy, how are you doing today? Having a good day? Did you get some good food? Are they treating you okay? Do you like this weather?" Things like that. Somehow we get it in our minds the dog understands what we are saying.
Of course, like anyone I am a little weak when a friendly dog wags his tail and wants to play or sit in my lap or something nice. These behaviors are acceptable and make me happy for the dog's existence. But overall, in my way of thinking--they are just dogs. No more and no less.
So when I saw the German Shepherd, I should have turned and gone the other way. But no. I have a stubborn side that does not want to run away from trouble. I prefer to meet it head on. Continuing toward the house, I decided to increase my speed. Meeting trouble face to face is okay, but also racing by might be acceptable!
Suddenly, as I got in front of the house, the three dogs tore out after me. I yelled at them in my broken winded voice and two of them stopped. The Shepherd, however, continued. Glancing at his bared teeth and hearing his snarl, I realized he was intent on tearing a chunk out of my leg. Stopping immediately, knowing I could never outrun him, I looked at him and using my brilliant verbosity said to him, "Okay, calm down, everything is going to be fine." He was quite larger, getting larger by the second, and I had nothing with which to stop him. His mouth came within a few inches of my thigh when I clapped loudly and yelled. This stopped him momentarily and I decided to step slowly out of the range of the house. I returned the way I came, shaking and wondering how close to serious damage I was.
What should I do now? Tell the owners to keep their dog tied? Call the police? Call a lawyer? Or wisely avoid running by the house? It is my right to run freely on the road in front of the house. It is the owner's right to have a dog. But the owner is liable for damage to a pedestrian outside of his property. Perhaps I should run by the house again and hope for a dogbite leading to a lawsuit! That is the American way I suspect.
In the end, unless my stubborn side reigns over my wisdom side, I will likely avoid running by the house in the future. But it sure is irritating.
The idea of a dog being man's best friend does not appeal to me and while I respect someone's desire to own one, at this point in my life I prefer not to do so. I will pet them or play with them when I see them and occasionally find myself in one of those strange one sided dog-like conversations. You know the type: "Hey boy, how are you doing today? Having a good day? Did you get some good food? Are they treating you okay? Do you like this weather?" Things like that. Somehow we get it in our minds the dog understands what we are saying.
Of course, like anyone I am a little weak when a friendly dog wags his tail and wants to play or sit in my lap or something nice. These behaviors are acceptable and make me happy for the dog's existence. But overall, in my way of thinking--they are just dogs. No more and no less.
So when I saw the German Shepherd, I should have turned and gone the other way. But no. I have a stubborn side that does not want to run away from trouble. I prefer to meet it head on. Continuing toward the house, I decided to increase my speed. Meeting trouble face to face is okay, but also racing by might be acceptable!
Suddenly, as I got in front of the house, the three dogs tore out after me. I yelled at them in my broken winded voice and two of them stopped. The Shepherd, however, continued. Glancing at his bared teeth and hearing his snarl, I realized he was intent on tearing a chunk out of my leg. Stopping immediately, knowing I could never outrun him, I looked at him and using my brilliant verbosity said to him, "Okay, calm down, everything is going to be fine." He was quite larger, getting larger by the second, and I had nothing with which to stop him. His mouth came within a few inches of my thigh when I clapped loudly and yelled. This stopped him momentarily and I decided to step slowly out of the range of the house. I returned the way I came, shaking and wondering how close to serious damage I was.
What should I do now? Tell the owners to keep their dog tied? Call the police? Call a lawyer? Or wisely avoid running by the house? It is my right to run freely on the road in front of the house. It is the owner's right to have a dog. But the owner is liable for damage to a pedestrian outside of his property. Perhaps I should run by the house again and hope for a dogbite leading to a lawsuit! That is the American way I suspect.
In the end, unless my stubborn side reigns over my wisdom side, I will likely avoid running by the house in the future. But it sure is irritating.
Monday, December 20, 2010
My Visual Rights--That Darn Gorilla
Living in the country, approximately 6 miles from civilization, shopping, restaurants, schools, and traffic lights, I drive past a car dealership several times a day. It is with great interest that I see various and sundry ways to attract customers. I have written about the use of the American Flag, ubiquitously placed on every vehicle, forcing the inevitable patriotic moment in anyone passing by. Maybe there is a veiled guilt-inflicting manipulation of emotions, "if you are patriotic, you will purchase a vehicle from us."
Sadly, I think many businesses in our area are struggling, needing customers, needing to move their stock, needing some kind of purchase to help pay the bills. I do not begrudge at all the right for businesses to develop marketing systems as they advertise their product. In fact, marketing has become so complex the last few years, it is difficult to know the best way to spread the word of what is offered. Newspapers, websites, emails, brochures, large signs, fliers, are all used in abundance. It is often heart-wrenching to see a small business try to compete with the Walmarts of the world, and I certainly support the Mom and Pop store struggling to make ends meet.
All this to say, I am just not sure about the gorilla on top of the car dealership. It is a massively obnoxious air-filled gorilla replete with teeth, arms, legs, and a substantial torso--ideal for chest pounding I suppose. Some kind of Abominable King Kong monster beast. The gorilla is gray except for the yellow and red "clothing" that gives him a slight sense of humanness or "everyman" look. Perhaps though, it is the white teeth that are the most prominent feature. The gorilla is several stories high and lords over the entire region while standing on the top of the dealership. It is a bold balloon that is tied up to prevent it from being a blimp high in the sky.
But why a gorilla? Does it make the figurative statement that there is a jungle in the world and if you buy our vehicles you will be safe? Or perhaps it is more that the gorilla will pounce on you and pulverize you if you do not buy one of our vehicles. Or maybe that the gorilla is a person too and owns one of the vehicles, therefore you should as well.
Of course I do not have to look at it, although that would be tough. I could keep my eyes on the road (probably a good idea) and avoid glancing at the monstrosity. But, wow, it sure is big. Has its presence encouraged me to stop and look at the vehicles? No. Maybe it works for other people. Not sure. For me though, in some ways, I feel manipulated and shackled by the gorilla. I have the visual right to see what I want to see and right now I do not want to look at the darn gorilla. But I have to by virtue of its size. So I kind of think my rights are violated in this instance. Furthermore I think it is a waste of time and energy. Of course this brings to mind my actual rights which are pretty minimum at best and certainly not worth any effort of thought. Nevertheless it is fun to think I could go to court and demand restitution for the emotional strain of the violation of my visual rights!
But if I did pursue this absurd litigious action, would the gorilla then come alive and devour me in the courtroom? Probably so. His power could be greater than my own banal attempt to get money for the visual violation. He is a big one, but I don't have to look at him and I don't even have to respond in any way. His purpose, his very reason for existence is to bring in more customers. Likely he is simply another advertising gimic and not worth too much analysis. Simply an attention grabber.
To add to the funny advertising gimic, the same dealership also has a hot air balloon nearby and Texas flags on every car and truck on the lot. So maybe, just maybe, the gorilla ploy is not working very well. Whatever, it is certainly becoming an icon in our area. Time to return to the jungle I say.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Booking with Jay--Archer City
Today marked the end of an era for me I suspect, at least for now. My friend Jay and I went to Archer City for book shopping day. We have done this for about 4 years approximately 3 or 4 times a year. Sometimes less sometimes more but also fairly consistently. It is less than a 2 1/2 hour drive there and we both feel our heart rate quickening when we get close to the town. Anticipating the smell of books, the feel of a good book in my hands, and the overwhelming quantity of great books, we park and head into Booked Up #1. Always a great experience!
The small town, hometown of master author Larry McMurtry, near Wichita Falls is the home of one of the largest used book stores in the country. It is called Booked Up and is actually a series of 4 separate stores on the town square. Containing over 500,000 books on every subject, a visit to Booked Up is a day of pure joy for me. As quickly as possible, which is not always very fast, I peruse thousands of books, looking for fiction, history, music, poetry, and occasionally specialized genres. As a part-time (and might I add dismal failure) book collector and seller, I am always looking for a quality book I can read and then later sell. It makes for a shimmering, energetic day of learning, of reading, and of discovery.
So once again we jumped in the truck and headed to Archer City for booking. But today was different somehow for Jay is moving out of the state. He took a position at a church in Montana and will be starting there in January. Yes, he will return to teach a class at Howard Payne through the Spring semester but his time will be limited. His family plans to join him in March. My booking friend is moving.
I realize change is inevitable and that there are others who love books as much as I do, but Jay's booking intensity level matches my own and we somehow feed off of each others book love. It makes for a great day at Archer City. I can still have great book days and am sure there will be plenty more. But probably not with Jay. Book shopping in Archer City with Jay Smith is over. The end of an era. Am I sad? No question about it.
The small town, hometown of master author Larry McMurtry, near Wichita Falls is the home of one of the largest used book stores in the country. It is called Booked Up and is actually a series of 4 separate stores on the town square. Containing over 500,000 books on every subject, a visit to Booked Up is a day of pure joy for me. As quickly as possible, which is not always very fast, I peruse thousands of books, looking for fiction, history, music, poetry, and occasionally specialized genres. As a part-time (and might I add dismal failure) book collector and seller, I am always looking for a quality book I can read and then later sell. It makes for a shimmering, energetic day of learning, of reading, and of discovery.
So once again we jumped in the truck and headed to Archer City for booking. But today was different somehow for Jay is moving out of the state. He took a position at a church in Montana and will be starting there in January. Yes, he will return to teach a class at Howard Payne through the Spring semester but his time will be limited. His family plans to join him in March. My booking friend is moving.
I realize change is inevitable and that there are others who love books as much as I do, but Jay's booking intensity level matches my own and we somehow feed off of each others book love. It makes for a great day at Archer City. I can still have great book days and am sure there will be plenty more. But probably not with Jay. Book shopping in Archer City with Jay Smith is over. The end of an era. Am I sad? No question about it.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Exercise, Running--A Euphoric Drug
As mentioned in earlier posts, I have addictive behavior tendencies as exemplified by my interests and desire to learn everything about certain things. Knowing this, I remain wisely guarded against those behaviors that are harmful in any sense, instead emphasizing those things that help me learn, that help me in some way or at least interest me in terms of my career.
My colleague Lance recently ran a marathon and my friend Mike continues to extol the virtues of exercise and staying in shape. Another friend Corey remains committed to keeping his weight in control by dieting and exercise. These influences have helped keep me accountable in spite of my personal hatred of exercising. Yet each morning I wake up at 5 a.m., do 300 jumping jacks, 100 situps, and 50 pushups followed by a cup of coffee! Lately, however, I have added running to my smorgasbord of exercise.
Coming home before dark, changing into running clothes, I head out for a mile or two of running. It is tough at first and I wonder if I can make it. But after several steps, I fall into a rhythm of sorts and keep my goals in mind. Music moves through my head, matching my feet and aiding in the motor rhythm of my run. Wanting to quit pervades my thoughts, but I run on anyway, relentlessly committed to the end. What pain inflicts my legs, my lungs, even my head as the pressure builds, and I begin to doubt the wisdom of this run.
Finally after several years that really were just a few minutes, I am done. Miserable at first, I settle down and discover a level of joy not experienced earlier. The endorphins set in and the world becomes a better place. Body hurts a little, but the mind feels more alive and vigorous. A strong sense of euphoria and natural high mixed with confidence becomes prevalent and suddenly I feel great.
Okay, I still hate it, but I also love it. But it is probably wise to avoid "over-doing" it at the age of 50. Exercise is good, fun, powerful, and amazingly beneficial, yet moderation and balance is the key.
My colleague Lance recently ran a marathon and my friend Mike continues to extol the virtues of exercise and staying in shape. Another friend Corey remains committed to keeping his weight in control by dieting and exercise. These influences have helped keep me accountable in spite of my personal hatred of exercising. Yet each morning I wake up at 5 a.m., do 300 jumping jacks, 100 situps, and 50 pushups followed by a cup of coffee! Lately, however, I have added running to my smorgasbord of exercise.
Coming home before dark, changing into running clothes, I head out for a mile or two of running. It is tough at first and I wonder if I can make it. But after several steps, I fall into a rhythm of sorts and keep my goals in mind. Music moves through my head, matching my feet and aiding in the motor rhythm of my run. Wanting to quit pervades my thoughts, but I run on anyway, relentlessly committed to the end. What pain inflicts my legs, my lungs, even my head as the pressure builds, and I begin to doubt the wisdom of this run.
Finally after several years that really were just a few minutes, I am done. Miserable at first, I settle down and discover a level of joy not experienced earlier. The endorphins set in and the world becomes a better place. Body hurts a little, but the mind feels more alive and vigorous. A strong sense of euphoria and natural high mixed with confidence becomes prevalent and suddenly I feel great.
Okay, I still hate it, but I also love it. But it is probably wise to avoid "over-doing" it at the age of 50. Exercise is good, fun, powerful, and amazingly beneficial, yet moderation and balance is the key.
Tuesday, December 07, 2010
Entitlement--real or imagined?
Driving to work this morning, I began to reflect on those things to which I am entitled. According to the Declaration of Independence, I am entitled to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. These broad but specific tenants encompass many activities and take many pathways. We are entitled to pursue happiness but not at the price of someone else's unhappiness. My liberty is only liberty if it is not the other person's straitjacket. Therefore, my entitlements are limited by my connectivity to other people's entitlements. To be selfish about what I perceive as my entitlements is to ignore the greater good not to mention the blessings that accompany me.
Unable to consider my education, my background, my skills, my family and friends, my successes as entitlements, I instead prefer to think of these things as being blessings, undeserving benefits and dividends. Driving to work each day in my truck, pulling up to a beautiful building, going into a stunning office with nice furnishings, books, computers, a piano, and lots of music, I marvel at the blessings surrounding me. Having the privilege to teach at an institution of higher learning, surrounded by brilliant colleagues, congenial students, supportive staff, and conduct worthy of a Christian university, I am continually humbled by my environment, by the opportunity to love my work and to do what I love. How many of us actually can boast of getting paid doing what we love?
Now it is nice to imagine a world of entitlements, a world where I actually deserve my blessings by virtue of my goodness, my behavior, my education, my gifts. I kind of like thinking that I am entitled to a great job, a beautiful family, a nice truck, a great church, a nice place to live, a free country, and I could list my "entitlements" to infinity. It is fun to actualize my dream world of perfection where my looks, my humanity, my existence gives me all these great things. I like to fantasize that the world falls at my feet begging to give me more and meet all my happiness needs. Ah, how fun!
But in truth, I don't believe we are entitled to much of anything other than the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. So I encourage us this Christmas to appreciate the gifts, to recognize the blessings, and to approach life with sincere humility. Perhaps then we can put aside our inherent selfishness and begin to regard the blessings as undeserved but appreciated. Recognition of such leads to fulfillment and an attitude of giving to others.
Unable to consider my education, my background, my skills, my family and friends, my successes as entitlements, I instead prefer to think of these things as being blessings, undeserving benefits and dividends. Driving to work each day in my truck, pulling up to a beautiful building, going into a stunning office with nice furnishings, books, computers, a piano, and lots of music, I marvel at the blessings surrounding me. Having the privilege to teach at an institution of higher learning, surrounded by brilliant colleagues, congenial students, supportive staff, and conduct worthy of a Christian university, I am continually humbled by my environment, by the opportunity to love my work and to do what I love. How many of us actually can boast of getting paid doing what we love?
Now it is nice to imagine a world of entitlements, a world where I actually deserve my blessings by virtue of my goodness, my behavior, my education, my gifts. I kind of like thinking that I am entitled to a great job, a beautiful family, a nice truck, a great church, a nice place to live, a free country, and I could list my "entitlements" to infinity. It is fun to actualize my dream world of perfection where my looks, my humanity, my existence gives me all these great things. I like to fantasize that the world falls at my feet begging to give me more and meet all my happiness needs. Ah, how fun!
But in truth, I don't believe we are entitled to much of anything other than the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. So I encourage us this Christmas to appreciate the gifts, to recognize the blessings, and to approach life with sincere humility. Perhaps then we can put aside our inherent selfishness and begin to regard the blessings as undeserved but appreciated. Recognition of such leads to fulfillment and an attitude of giving to others.
Thursday, December 02, 2010
Am I Doing a Good Job?
Much to my surprise, our administrative assistant (secretary), asked me if she were doing a good job. As I responded to her with effusive affirmation, she pressed me for how she could improve. We ended up with some positive ways to do better. In our discussion, it occurred to me to ask her the same question of myself. Soon I spent the day examining my own job performance and assessing the daily productivity and success or lack thereof. It made for an excellent day of honesty with goals detailed for improvement.
But how often do we ask ourselves this question? Are you able to ask your supervisor or perhaps even peer the same question? Can you open yourself up to this kind of criticism? Is your confidence so fragile that even slight vulnerability is potentially malignant to your entire being? If so, perhaps it is time to rethink your own level of achievement and self-esteem.
"What doesn't kill us makes us stronger." Too often we are so afraid of criticism that we mentally lock ourselves into a room where nothing will hurt us. There is safety in silence and no barbs exist in a vacuum of solitude. I prefer living in a world without problems, and I would like for everything to be positive. Yet there is no doubt that as I look back, while I prefer the path of least resistance, I grow more from the obstacles in front of me.
Most criticism leveled is overstated and has a personal spirit that cannot be considered collective. This is necessary as we wade through waters of truth and emotional responses to events. This stated, at the same time, most criticism contains a grain of truth that warrants some kind of reaction. Rather than dismissing the invective as worthless tripe from an ignorant individual, we should consider how to fix the perceived problem. Not to overreact to it, but perhaps to grow from it in some way.
This then comes back to those necessary ingredients for success--humility and self-esteem. Humility gives us a sense of needing to improve, knowing we have much to do and a long way to travel. Self-esteem reminds us that we are worthy people in spite of our many failings and mistakes. Both of these qualities working congruently propel us to the next step of productivity and achievement.
Am I doing a good job? Perhaps in many ways yes, but there certainly is still a long road ahead full of bumps and challenges. The journey toward excellence continues and while I relish the ease, I also know to be ready and open to the tough spots.
But how often do we ask ourselves this question? Are you able to ask your supervisor or perhaps even peer the same question? Can you open yourself up to this kind of criticism? Is your confidence so fragile that even slight vulnerability is potentially malignant to your entire being? If so, perhaps it is time to rethink your own level of achievement and self-esteem.
"What doesn't kill us makes us stronger." Too often we are so afraid of criticism that we mentally lock ourselves into a room where nothing will hurt us. There is safety in silence and no barbs exist in a vacuum of solitude. I prefer living in a world without problems, and I would like for everything to be positive. Yet there is no doubt that as I look back, while I prefer the path of least resistance, I grow more from the obstacles in front of me.
Most criticism leveled is overstated and has a personal spirit that cannot be considered collective. This is necessary as we wade through waters of truth and emotional responses to events. This stated, at the same time, most criticism contains a grain of truth that warrants some kind of reaction. Rather than dismissing the invective as worthless tripe from an ignorant individual, we should consider how to fix the perceived problem. Not to overreact to it, but perhaps to grow from it in some way.
This then comes back to those necessary ingredients for success--humility and self-esteem. Humility gives us a sense of needing to improve, knowing we have much to do and a long way to travel. Self-esteem reminds us that we are worthy people in spite of our many failings and mistakes. Both of these qualities working congruently propel us to the next step of productivity and achievement.
Am I doing a good job? Perhaps in many ways yes, but there certainly is still a long road ahead full of bumps and challenges. The journey toward excellence continues and while I relish the ease, I also know to be ready and open to the tough spots.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
The endless mystery of time
Joel has almost no concept of time. His time responses are simply physiological rather than dictated by any kind of external restraints. Yes he carries a watch and occasionally glances at it for some kind of general idea but he makes few if any decisions based on the passage of time. When we name a specific time for an event, he does consider it in his planning, but simply in the way that the event and time match each other. The passing of time leading to that designated event has no merit in his thinking. Time remains a mystery to Joel.
In some ways, however, there is joy in the emancipation of the passing of time. Imagine a world without clocks, without deadlines, without appointments, without specific time requirements. Imagine eating, sleeping, talking, going, doing things whenever you felt? What kind of strange and marvelous existence would it be to have no awareness of the clock, the watch, the timekeeper. What if you never dealt with your own impatience or the impatience of someone else. What if the task had no deadline and you could deal with it at your leisure? Would this make your life all about leisure and pleasure? This is the natural world of Joel.
Yet it is an artificial world and one that has no bearing on the "real" world in which we reside. While we could quibble about the human imposition of time on our lives, in truth it is a reality. We have to follow society's time schedule and so must Joel. Here is where the intersection of autism and reality clash without any kind of ideal resolution. Society's insistence on following a time schedule and Joel's natural predilection for not knowing that time is passing. It makes for an incongruent and nearly impossible situation.
As parents though, we do not give up and accept Joel's lack of time awareness. Doing so would make Joel even less contributing and without meaning in today's world. Instead, we constantly remind him of the passing of time, to study the clock, to reference the upcoming events, to mention how long something will take, to point out that we cannot forget or ignore the clock as it steadily moves.
And in some intangible way, Joel's lack of time concept is related to his general sluggishness, lack of preparation, and very little progressive thinking. His life responses then are rather random and undetermined by any outside force with little regard to the things that have to get done. Most people wake up and give thought to the passing of time and how the goals of the day need to be met. Joel does not think any of those things.
In the end, however, Joel is probably happier for not having constant time considerations. We are not happy with him in this regard in that he does not and cannot fit into our schedule, but he does find joy in the lack of constraints. Keep in mind, however, that Joel does not actively resist time, he simply has no consideration for it. Not out of rebellion but more out of awareness. He is blissfully content not to be aware of time, but we are continually wishing for him to know time and to live closer to the clock. It makes for constant frustration for us, but makes no difference to him!
In some ways, however, there is joy in the emancipation of the passing of time. Imagine a world without clocks, without deadlines, without appointments, without specific time requirements. Imagine eating, sleeping, talking, going, doing things whenever you felt? What kind of strange and marvelous existence would it be to have no awareness of the clock, the watch, the timekeeper. What if you never dealt with your own impatience or the impatience of someone else. What if the task had no deadline and you could deal with it at your leisure? Would this make your life all about leisure and pleasure? This is the natural world of Joel.
Yet it is an artificial world and one that has no bearing on the "real" world in which we reside. While we could quibble about the human imposition of time on our lives, in truth it is a reality. We have to follow society's time schedule and so must Joel. Here is where the intersection of autism and reality clash without any kind of ideal resolution. Society's insistence on following a time schedule and Joel's natural predilection for not knowing that time is passing. It makes for an incongruent and nearly impossible situation.
As parents though, we do not give up and accept Joel's lack of time awareness. Doing so would make Joel even less contributing and without meaning in today's world. Instead, we constantly remind him of the passing of time, to study the clock, to reference the upcoming events, to mention how long something will take, to point out that we cannot forget or ignore the clock as it steadily moves.
And in some intangible way, Joel's lack of time concept is related to his general sluggishness, lack of preparation, and very little progressive thinking. His life responses then are rather random and undetermined by any outside force with little regard to the things that have to get done. Most people wake up and give thought to the passing of time and how the goals of the day need to be met. Joel does not think any of those things.
In the end, however, Joel is probably happier for not having constant time considerations. We are not happy with him in this regard in that he does not and cannot fit into our schedule, but he does find joy in the lack of constraints. Keep in mind, however, that Joel does not actively resist time, he simply has no consideration for it. Not out of rebellion but more out of awareness. He is blissfully content not to be aware of time, but we are continually wishing for him to know time and to live closer to the clock. It makes for constant frustration for us, but makes no difference to him!
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Let Him Have His Moment
In the day to day and often murky waters of parenting, one of the toughest decisions to make is when to let the child have his way, his moment, his victory. Parents worry that giving in too much sends a message of constant capitulation and ease of life's journey, an artificial world that will inevitably be a jarring of the senses for the maturing child. The other extreme, however, sets up an autocratic governance where a child often feels undervalued and not permitted any kind of freedom for victory or making of mistakes. In general, for most parents, I subscribe to the idea of saying yes when possible and allow children their moment within the confines of safety and security. Yet, I have often reminded my children particularly in their younger years that our family is not a democracy and that parents get to make the decisions apart from any kind of voting privilege children think they have!
It comes back so often to balance of parenting--freedom vs. restriction. Usually the best course is somewhere in the middle, generously spiced and adorned with lots of love. One day they will be on their own, and they need to know how to make the right decision but to understand that the love of parents is always the overriding criterion for decisions. So parents worry that saying no too often will result in rebelliousness or saying yes too often will result a loss of authority. And we walk on the tightrope of parenting, hoping for the insights that will be best for the child, but never sacrificing safety and security along the way.
Now to the autistic child. All is different. The parenting skills are not the same. The philosophy is not the same and the thought processing is not the same. Raising an autistic child is markedly different from a normal child and the goals are unique. Do not try to assume you can be the same parent for a normal child as you are for the autistic child. The rules have changed.
To all those who are often judgmental of the so-called "bad" parents in the world, could it be you are observing a child with autism? A child who does not live in the same world as everyone else? Perhaps a parent who is struggling to make the puzzle pieces fit for the child? It reminds me of the old adage, "Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in his shoes."
But parenting an autistic child is not an excuse for mediocre parenting. It is, instead, an opportunity to help a disabled child be safe, cope, learn, to be successful, to see the world in its totality, and find joy in the midst of the challenges, and yes, for the parent to feel successful as well. Too often we forget the depth of emotional distress that the parent experiences. For a parent to feel productive, loving, successful, he or she must experience some kind of affirmation for his or her efforts. While these affirming times are often intermittent, they can be quite euphoric.
But unlike a normal child, the autistic child is not necessarily being trained for independence, for that unaided flight to the world. Instead the autistic child is simply finding his niche, a way for him to fit into the world, likely with lots of help. Rather than worrying that "giving in" will somehow corrupt him forever, not allowing him to recognize authority or ill-preparing him for the challenges of the world, perhaps parents need to find those opportunities to allow for some degree of contentment. Give him his moment, for there are not very many of those.
Just like raising a normal child, parents must seek a balance between exerting authority and allow for some degree of independence. But unlike a normal child, the battle is not for quelling rebelliousness. The battle is for making the puzzle pieces fit. In the end, safety and security are the goals and raising a child is written on a tablet made of lots of love.
It comes back so often to balance of parenting--freedom vs. restriction. Usually the best course is somewhere in the middle, generously spiced and adorned with lots of love. One day they will be on their own, and they need to know how to make the right decision but to understand that the love of parents is always the overriding criterion for decisions. So parents worry that saying no too often will result in rebelliousness or saying yes too often will result a loss of authority. And we walk on the tightrope of parenting, hoping for the insights that will be best for the child, but never sacrificing safety and security along the way.
Now to the autistic child. All is different. The parenting skills are not the same. The philosophy is not the same and the thought processing is not the same. Raising an autistic child is markedly different from a normal child and the goals are unique. Do not try to assume you can be the same parent for a normal child as you are for the autistic child. The rules have changed.
To all those who are often judgmental of the so-called "bad" parents in the world, could it be you are observing a child with autism? A child who does not live in the same world as everyone else? Perhaps a parent who is struggling to make the puzzle pieces fit for the child? It reminds me of the old adage, "Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in his shoes."
But parenting an autistic child is not an excuse for mediocre parenting. It is, instead, an opportunity to help a disabled child be safe, cope, learn, to be successful, to see the world in its totality, and find joy in the midst of the challenges, and yes, for the parent to feel successful as well. Too often we forget the depth of emotional distress that the parent experiences. For a parent to feel productive, loving, successful, he or she must experience some kind of affirmation for his or her efforts. While these affirming times are often intermittent, they can be quite euphoric.
But unlike a normal child, the autistic child is not necessarily being trained for independence, for that unaided flight to the world. Instead the autistic child is simply finding his niche, a way for him to fit into the world, likely with lots of help. Rather than worrying that "giving in" will somehow corrupt him forever, not allowing him to recognize authority or ill-preparing him for the challenges of the world, perhaps parents need to find those opportunities to allow for some degree of contentment. Give him his moment, for there are not very many of those.
Just like raising a normal child, parents must seek a balance between exerting authority and allow for some degree of independence. But unlike a normal child, the battle is not for quelling rebelliousness. The battle is for making the puzzle pieces fit. In the end, safety and security are the goals and raising a child is written on a tablet made of lots of love.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
A Moment of Thanks
Reading through the various accounts of the First Thanksgiving, I have to wonder again why we celebrate eating and food on this day. The pilgrims often had meals together and gave thanks for their blessings, driven strongly by their piety, hardships, and work ethic. The friendly Indians helped out to an extent so we like to think of the event as an ecumenical moment where we set aside differences and unify ourselves around the commonality of food. It makes for a touching moment with family that's for sure.
But why don't we celebrate the first log cabin? Or the first song? Or the first book? Or the first grandchild? Or the first fur cap or gloves? Why did we single out the meal as our Thanksgiving pinnacle? Why not the heater or air conditioner or rifle or flannel pajamas? There are so many events that we could have selected for Thanksgiving. The piano, the television, the cell phone, the clock, the porch swing, the dog and cat, the scarf, the shower, the bar of soap? Regardless, I am happy to celebrate the meal and to have a reason for a gathering of the family.
And I certainly celebrate the gathering of the Tucker family! There are 13 of us in Brownwood today and it is exciting to see the generations all in one locale. We are a strong, intelligent, creative bunch with doses of cynicism, sarcasm, wit, joy, lots of music, and spark. The spark is intensified by the proliferation of technological toys. We have them, use them, love them, and share ideas with them. Sitting near my fascinating brother, we carried on a conversation while looking at blogs, websites, emails, and texting others. It was a postmodern moment. Some might say it demonstrates the avoidance of interpersonal relationship building. But most who live in that world actually declare the opposite. Technology with its vast array of social networking availability has created a new level of interpersonal relationships undaunted by time or space.
Back to the family gathering around the table. I give thanks today for my family, for the many blessings of our lives, and for the technology that allows me to stay in touch with everyone at a moment's notice. Rather than resist the wireless world, let us embrace it and allow it to enhance our love for each other. Meanwhile, nearly time for turkey, cranberry sauce, dressing, rolls, tea, and lots of dessert. Excuse my Epicureanism but I think I'll treat myself well today. In truth my real treat comes from having my family around me.
But why don't we celebrate the first log cabin? Or the first song? Or the first book? Or the first grandchild? Or the first fur cap or gloves? Why did we single out the meal as our Thanksgiving pinnacle? Why not the heater or air conditioner or rifle or flannel pajamas? There are so many events that we could have selected for Thanksgiving. The piano, the television, the cell phone, the clock, the porch swing, the dog and cat, the scarf, the shower, the bar of soap? Regardless, I am happy to celebrate the meal and to have a reason for a gathering of the family.
And I certainly celebrate the gathering of the Tucker family! There are 13 of us in Brownwood today and it is exciting to see the generations all in one locale. We are a strong, intelligent, creative bunch with doses of cynicism, sarcasm, wit, joy, lots of music, and spark. The spark is intensified by the proliferation of technological toys. We have them, use them, love them, and share ideas with them. Sitting near my fascinating brother, we carried on a conversation while looking at blogs, websites, emails, and texting others. It was a postmodern moment. Some might say it demonstrates the avoidance of interpersonal relationship building. But most who live in that world actually declare the opposite. Technology with its vast array of social networking availability has created a new level of interpersonal relationships undaunted by time or space.
Back to the family gathering around the table. I give thanks today for my family, for the many blessings of our lives, and for the technology that allows me to stay in touch with everyone at a moment's notice. Rather than resist the wireless world, let us embrace it and allow it to enhance our love for each other. Meanwhile, nearly time for turkey, cranberry sauce, dressing, rolls, tea, and lots of dessert. Excuse my Epicureanism but I think I'll treat myself well today. In truth my real treat comes from having my family around me.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Observations on Boston
Attending a three-day conference in Boston, I had the opportunity to walk the streets, ride the "T", eat the food, and live the Boston life albeit very briefly. It was a good adventure and one I wish to replicate. This little post is not so much for the Bostonian as for those who are curious about the world.
Hearing an estimate that there are approximately 80 universities in Boston, I quickly noticed a "collegiate" atmosphere. It seemed as though college students of all ages abounded. Most people walking had a satchel or a backpack and it was common to see people reading on a bench. In the subway, approximately 1 of 3 or 4 people had a book. Most of the books were college textbooks although the occasional Baldacci novel would be seen rather surreptitiously. At any given time, there are well over 250,000 college students in a city proper of less than 700,000 people. Readers and learners and potential academicians seemed to seep through virtually every part of the city, finding residence in Cambridge and Harvard square.
It is rare that my walking pace is matched where I live. I tend to walk briskly with decided goals and a deliberate step that long legs seem to enjoy. Yet in Boston, my pace was matched or exceeded by most people. A further look and I realized that I saw very little obesity. Of course this could be due to the larger people being in automobiles or staying home, but in general I wonder if the crowded city (yes, everything was close together), led to emphasizing walking over riding. If so, then space and wide-open regions are ironically contributing to the wellness problems of our country! (okay, way out theory and certainly pocked full of gaping holes).
Another weak theory: friendly people are generally larger people. My attempts to have a conversation on the subway were met with confusion and suspicion until I became as silent as the others. Texans do tend to strike up friendly conversations with strangers. Bostonians are more reserved (maybe they are thinking great academic thoughts as opposed to Texans!).
While I saw the usual fast food, burger places, sandwich shops, there did appear to be more fish restaurants than I expected. It is hard (nearly impossible) to find fresh fish in central Texas for obvious reasons, so I indulged in the amazing fish delicacies found in virtually every restaurant. And what a treat--swordfish, salmon, sushi, mahi mahi, etc. graced my lips at every opportunity.
Bookstores: a disappointment in some ways. I went to four used bookstores and three new ones. The new ones had the usual assortment of bestsellers organized in the typical ways, with some emphases on literature and political books. The used bookstores were small and specialized. One only dealt with paperbacks while another only had history and politics. My favorite one specialized in documents and art books. The used fiction section was small and concentrated primarily on the finer authors of our times. I did pick up a couple of TR books (I collect biographies and related books on Theodore Roosevelt) and coveted a few other things, but elected not to buy since I might exceed the luggage weight limit. Overall though, Archer City, Texas reigns as the finest used bookstore I have experienced and nothing in Boston can compare.
Materialism: still rampant as it is everywhere with glamorous, glossy malls and high sticker items. Slowly becoming much less materialistic, I found little joy in perusing the expensive items. Happy they exist and that many enjoy them, I walked by them with scarcely a glance.
Enjoying a good cup of coffee everywhere I went, I have about decided that coffee is the elixir of cheer in our country. Tending toward contrarianism, I must admit to being like everyone else with regard to coffee. Great stuff and Boston had its share of great coffee.
It was a fun time and I am glad for the experience. But being mildly claustrophobic, I was glad for the return to my native land called Texas with its expansive sky, cattle, friendly people, and lots of space.
Hearing an estimate that there are approximately 80 universities in Boston, I quickly noticed a "collegiate" atmosphere. It seemed as though college students of all ages abounded. Most people walking had a satchel or a backpack and it was common to see people reading on a bench. In the subway, approximately 1 of 3 or 4 people had a book. Most of the books were college textbooks although the occasional Baldacci novel would be seen rather surreptitiously. At any given time, there are well over 250,000 college students in a city proper of less than 700,000 people. Readers and learners and potential academicians seemed to seep through virtually every part of the city, finding residence in Cambridge and Harvard square.
It is rare that my walking pace is matched where I live. I tend to walk briskly with decided goals and a deliberate step that long legs seem to enjoy. Yet in Boston, my pace was matched or exceeded by most people. A further look and I realized that I saw very little obesity. Of course this could be due to the larger people being in automobiles or staying home, but in general I wonder if the crowded city (yes, everything was close together), led to emphasizing walking over riding. If so, then space and wide-open regions are ironically contributing to the wellness problems of our country! (okay, way out theory and certainly pocked full of gaping holes).
Another weak theory: friendly people are generally larger people. My attempts to have a conversation on the subway were met with confusion and suspicion until I became as silent as the others. Texans do tend to strike up friendly conversations with strangers. Bostonians are more reserved (maybe they are thinking great academic thoughts as opposed to Texans!).
While I saw the usual fast food, burger places, sandwich shops, there did appear to be more fish restaurants than I expected. It is hard (nearly impossible) to find fresh fish in central Texas for obvious reasons, so I indulged in the amazing fish delicacies found in virtually every restaurant. And what a treat--swordfish, salmon, sushi, mahi mahi, etc. graced my lips at every opportunity.
Bookstores: a disappointment in some ways. I went to four used bookstores and three new ones. The new ones had the usual assortment of bestsellers organized in the typical ways, with some emphases on literature and political books. The used bookstores were small and specialized. One only dealt with paperbacks while another only had history and politics. My favorite one specialized in documents and art books. The used fiction section was small and concentrated primarily on the finer authors of our times. I did pick up a couple of TR books (I collect biographies and related books on Theodore Roosevelt) and coveted a few other things, but elected not to buy since I might exceed the luggage weight limit. Overall though, Archer City, Texas reigns as the finest used bookstore I have experienced and nothing in Boston can compare.
Materialism: still rampant as it is everywhere with glamorous, glossy malls and high sticker items. Slowly becoming much less materialistic, I found little joy in perusing the expensive items. Happy they exist and that many enjoy them, I walked by them with scarcely a glance.
Enjoying a good cup of coffee everywhere I went, I have about decided that coffee is the elixir of cheer in our country. Tending toward contrarianism, I must admit to being like everyone else with regard to coffee. Great stuff and Boston had its share of great coffee.
It was a fun time and I am glad for the experience. But being mildly claustrophobic, I was glad for the return to my native land called Texas with its expansive sky, cattle, friendly people, and lots of space.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
What do we do?
Historically, parents would usually give children with learning problems to an institution, and referencing hundreds of years, those children would be placed in some kind of asylum where they would usually get worse. In other words, parents and society would collectively give up on the children, relegating them to unfilled life and an early death.
We hear discussion about quality of life, about contributing citizens, and the role of education and helping people become productive in the world. We have great respect for those figures who through grit, fortitude, and intelligence accomplish amazing feats and become icons of the American dream. We peruse headlines and smile when we read about a sports figure or an actor or a model or a popular musician. We hold these people high in esteem. But we also regard with deserved admiration the brain surgeon, the lawyer, the politician, the general, and the successful businessman, all of whom contribute brilliance and skills to the betterment of society.
My other two children are of this ilk. One is on the pathway to becoming a sports psychologist. He is strong, smart, driven to excellence and will not allow himself to fail at what he does. The other son is creative, gifted, bright with a broad sense of the musical world, a world he is ready to enter and to conquer.
But what about those children and those adults who do not have the ability to become a famous actor, lawyer, doctor, teacher, or athlete? Do they have a role in society? Do they deserve a chance to live, to progress, to fulfill their potential? Does the government have a responsibility to help these people? Where does the family fit in with this obligation? Should we practice some kind of Teutonic eugenics that is an extension of Darwinism and let these people strike out on their own? Would the inevitable failure teach them how to then succeed? Or would the inevitable failure result in more homeless people dying in the streets?
Whether you consider yourself a compassionate humanitarian or not, can anyone with a heart honestly embrace the principal of the survival of the fittest and sit back allowing those with special needs to suffer? Should we as contributing citizens of the world shrug our shoulders and let these special needs people enter the world only to live in sorrow and confusion? The bird with the broken wing will likely perish due to a lack of ability to sustain itself. Maybe a few will figure out how to live but most will not. This is the way of the world. Let things happen the way they happen. Correct?
But let’s look at this another way. Through no fault of their own, autistics are born into a world that in many ways remains a mystery to them throughout their lives. They have a right to live in this world and a right to make their own way. Those without special needs (although I could argue that everyone has special needs) often feel they have a moral obligation to help the challenged adjust to the complex world.
It seems to me that we have one of two choices with these people: 1) destroy them or 2) help them cope. Since choice number one is not a choice in the Tucker family, we have elected to help our son Joel cope in a difficult world that does not and cannot fully understand his disabilities. Some may call this family love, others moral obligation, but whatever it is called it is the unswerving, relentless quest to help our son and to provide for his safety, comfort, and security.
We hear discussion about quality of life, about contributing citizens, and the role of education and helping people become productive in the world. We have great respect for those figures who through grit, fortitude, and intelligence accomplish amazing feats and become icons of the American dream. We peruse headlines and smile when we read about a sports figure or an actor or a model or a popular musician. We hold these people high in esteem. But we also regard with deserved admiration the brain surgeon, the lawyer, the politician, the general, and the successful businessman, all of whom contribute brilliance and skills to the betterment of society.
My other two children are of this ilk. One is on the pathway to becoming a sports psychologist. He is strong, smart, driven to excellence and will not allow himself to fail at what he does. The other son is creative, gifted, bright with a broad sense of the musical world, a world he is ready to enter and to conquer.
But what about those children and those adults who do not have the ability to become a famous actor, lawyer, doctor, teacher, or athlete? Do they have a role in society? Do they deserve a chance to live, to progress, to fulfill their potential? Does the government have a responsibility to help these people? Where does the family fit in with this obligation? Should we practice some kind of Teutonic eugenics that is an extension of Darwinism and let these people strike out on their own? Would the inevitable failure teach them how to then succeed? Or would the inevitable failure result in more homeless people dying in the streets?
Whether you consider yourself a compassionate humanitarian or not, can anyone with a heart honestly embrace the principal of the survival of the fittest and sit back allowing those with special needs to suffer? Should we as contributing citizens of the world shrug our shoulders and let these special needs people enter the world only to live in sorrow and confusion? The bird with the broken wing will likely perish due to a lack of ability to sustain itself. Maybe a few will figure out how to live but most will not. This is the way of the world. Let things happen the way they happen. Correct?
But let’s look at this another way. Through no fault of their own, autistics are born into a world that in many ways remains a mystery to them throughout their lives. They have a right to live in this world and a right to make their own way. Those without special needs (although I could argue that everyone has special needs) often feel they have a moral obligation to help the challenged adjust to the complex world.
It seems to me that we have one of two choices with these people: 1) destroy them or 2) help them cope. Since choice number one is not a choice in the Tucker family, we have elected to help our son Joel cope in a difficult world that does not and cannot fully understand his disabilities. Some may call this family love, others moral obligation, but whatever it is called it is the unswerving, relentless quest to help our son and to provide for his safety, comfort, and security.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Management/Supervision
As an Amazon book reviewer, I often receive requests from authors to review their books. I am willing to do so provided I am fairly caught up on my reading. Leaning on fiction with an occasional foray into history, it is unusual for me to read self-improvement books or books on management. Yet, about once or twice a year I like to keep up with the industry, not to mention the gain of new leadership ideas.
All this to say I recently read a book on management that I found very effective and gave me ideas to codify my own leadership style. Since this is a work in progress and I expect the list to change from experience, please do not forever hold me steadfast to this list. The chess game in my head is constantly reevaluating the next move, hoping to anticipate the response. Meanwhile, here we go: Rob's ten point management style. These are in no particular order (or rather the order changes depending on the situation).
1. Don't overreact to a problem or a criticism of anyone or anything
2. Listen thoughtfully and considerately to everyone
3. Be honest with people
4. Always expect a response to any decision made. Be prepared for the response you don't want, be happy when it is the response you do want.
5. Cast a broad, lofty vision for the program
6. Praise generously, criticize judiciously
7. Find ways to make others successful
8. Smile often and use humor often without insults or sarcasm
9. Walk around and stay personally in touch with others
10. Learn from mistakes and don't take it personally.
All this to say I recently read a book on management that I found very effective and gave me ideas to codify my own leadership style. Since this is a work in progress and I expect the list to change from experience, please do not forever hold me steadfast to this list. The chess game in my head is constantly reevaluating the next move, hoping to anticipate the response. Meanwhile, here we go: Rob's ten point management style. These are in no particular order (or rather the order changes depending on the situation).
1. Don't overreact to a problem or a criticism of anyone or anything
2. Listen thoughtfully and considerately to everyone
3. Be honest with people
4. Always expect a response to any decision made. Be prepared for the response you don't want, be happy when it is the response you do want.
5. Cast a broad, lofty vision for the program
6. Praise generously, criticize judiciously
7. Find ways to make others successful
8. Smile often and use humor often without insults or sarcasm
9. Walk around and stay personally in touch with others
10. Learn from mistakes and don't take it personally.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Childhood to Adulthood--The Saga Continues
Chronicling the life of our autistic son Joel from his childhood to adulthood, he turns 21 in December 2010, brings to mind the constant concern, constant joy, and emotional roller-coaster that a special needs child causes in a family. In the course of living our lives, we often encounter dramatic events that require our emotional reaction. Events such as loss, or birthdays, or tender moments, or thrilling times, or adventures, or an infinite amount of audacious and stunning things that happen to human beings. All these and more elicit great emotional responses from us. But once they are done, while vestiges of the experience remain, in general the emotion reposes, returning to a calm ride on the sea.
Yet having a special needs child causes an entirely different set of emotions in a parent. Good parents love, protect, and worry about their children all their lives. It is almost a mandated condition of parenting (and grandparenting I hear), to spend a great deal of time being concerned about your children. For us the same is true. We love our children and each one is special, deserving our devoted love and attention forever. The difference is that the dramatic events that elicit great emotional responses, turn away and go into repose. Parenting a child without disabilities provides the human emotions opportunities to relax, to calm themselves, and to experience still waters after the turbulence.
Parenting a disabled child, however, can be likened to being on rough waters that will not change, will not become still, and will always threaten to overwhelm the boat. Furthermore, the boat remains on the water and will never land. Turbulence becomes a way of life on the open water and any calm is relished but somehow anomalous in a quaking quagmire of constant contention. But wait, if all that is true and more, where is the pleasure, the joy, the blessings?
I recall as a teenager, hiking through the Franklin Mountains searching for and finding Prickly Pear Cactus. Carefully, but thoroughly, we would gather the little pears, cutting out the tiny needles and collect them for jelly. It was pain-staking work due to the fear of needles getting stuck in fingers or even in tongues, but the joy of the taste of the jelly was worth the effort. So it goes with raising a disabled child.
Unlike dramatic events that dispel, leaving behind vestiges of concern, but ending in positive, raising a disabled child has no end. It requires an infinite amount of tenacity and patience. It is ubiquitous and difficult. Not for the faint of heart, a parent must apply due diligence to virtually everything from hygiene to health to safety education to behavior. Somewhere in the transference of child to adult, the parent must find ways to make the child socially presentable, contribute something to society, and fit into the world.
I do believe that a parent of such a child must take some time for self-examination, for to learn oneself is to be able to "learn" about others. A moment of selfishness or self reflection can make one aware of a lifetime of selflessness. And selflessness is absolutely necessary for raising a disabled child to adulthood.
But like the prickly pear, the rewards are wonderful and like the song says, "Love Changes Everything." To love your child is to do everything possible to help him or her regardless of the challenges in front. In some cases, love can take the form of institutional help or medical intervention but in most cases, love is the ruling factor in all decisions for nobody knows your child the way you do.
Yet having a special needs child causes an entirely different set of emotions in a parent. Good parents love, protect, and worry about their children all their lives. It is almost a mandated condition of parenting (and grandparenting I hear), to spend a great deal of time being concerned about your children. For us the same is true. We love our children and each one is special, deserving our devoted love and attention forever. The difference is that the dramatic events that elicit great emotional responses, turn away and go into repose. Parenting a child without disabilities provides the human emotions opportunities to relax, to calm themselves, and to experience still waters after the turbulence.
Parenting a disabled child, however, can be likened to being on rough waters that will not change, will not become still, and will always threaten to overwhelm the boat. Furthermore, the boat remains on the water and will never land. Turbulence becomes a way of life on the open water and any calm is relished but somehow anomalous in a quaking quagmire of constant contention. But wait, if all that is true and more, where is the pleasure, the joy, the blessings?
I recall as a teenager, hiking through the Franklin Mountains searching for and finding Prickly Pear Cactus. Carefully, but thoroughly, we would gather the little pears, cutting out the tiny needles and collect them for jelly. It was pain-staking work due to the fear of needles getting stuck in fingers or even in tongues, but the joy of the taste of the jelly was worth the effort. So it goes with raising a disabled child.
Unlike dramatic events that dispel, leaving behind vestiges of concern, but ending in positive, raising a disabled child has no end. It requires an infinite amount of tenacity and patience. It is ubiquitous and difficult. Not for the faint of heart, a parent must apply due diligence to virtually everything from hygiene to health to safety education to behavior. Somewhere in the transference of child to adult, the parent must find ways to make the child socially presentable, contribute something to society, and fit into the world.
I do believe that a parent of such a child must take some time for self-examination, for to learn oneself is to be able to "learn" about others. A moment of selfishness or self reflection can make one aware of a lifetime of selflessness. And selflessness is absolutely necessary for raising a disabled child to adulthood.
But like the prickly pear, the rewards are wonderful and like the song says, "Love Changes Everything." To love your child is to do everything possible to help him or her regardless of the challenges in front. In some cases, love can take the form of institutional help or medical intervention but in most cases, love is the ruling factor in all decisions for nobody knows your child the way you do.
Monday, November 08, 2010
Acceptance as Parents
If you are a parent of a child with special needs, one of the first things you need to do is to accept your role as a guardian, protector, guiding light, and responsible entity of your child. Many parents expend great emotional energy trying to determine their own role as parents of a special needs child. The first thing to establish is that you are the primary responsible person and will be as long as you live. This is not a choice, it is an obligation. It may be a burden or it might be a blessing (or likely a mixture of both with emphases on blessing), but it is the requirement for being the parent. Once you accept this as your duty, it makes other decisions much easier. You may not and should not abdicate your responsibility for the ultimate happiness of your child.
Knowing this, however, does not necessarily mean that you are the sole care-giver throughout the rest of the child's life, but it does mean that you are overseer of the child and you are the guardian. Your prime directive is to provide a safe, secure learning environment that allows your child comfort, happiness, and a purpose. In most cases, this is the home where the parents reside, but in some cases this is a special needs residence.
Finding the right kind of special needs home requires careful research, on site evaluation, and money for the residence. Mostly it requires the the person and the guardians be entirely comfortable with the setting. More on this later.
Meanwhile, it seems to me that parents expend great time and energy both denying their child's situation and being afraid to accept any kind of responsibility for the child. In many ways this is understandable due to the sheer amount of resources available to help and the amount of teachers involved in your child's education. The state (and this is true for most states) goes to great lengths to help ease the educational process and protect the child from failure in the classroom. Over a period of several years, it is easy for the parent to become somewhat complacent and even dependent upon the educational process to solve all the problems and turn out a product that is capable of contributing to society.
Unfortunately, while schools can help and all efforts are certainly worth it, in the end the child still has limitations. The parent who denies the realities of the child's abilities or lack thereof is possibly a parent not providing for the welfare of the child and for the future. There is nothing to gain and much to lose by not being able to recognize the limitations of special needs children. Know that recognizing limitations does not mean using those challenges as excuses for mediocrity. Invoking high expectations on your child is the only way to promote the idea that there is a niche for all kinds of people.
But until the parent accepts the child as a special needs child with disabilities, the child is actually endangered by a world that is not designed for those with problems. So in spite of the constant demands on the parents, it is an absolute mandate to provide a safe, secure, comfortable world for your child, a world that allows him to reach his potential.
Knowing this, however, does not necessarily mean that you are the sole care-giver throughout the rest of the child's life, but it does mean that you are overseer of the child and you are the guardian. Your prime directive is to provide a safe, secure learning environment that allows your child comfort, happiness, and a purpose. In most cases, this is the home where the parents reside, but in some cases this is a special needs residence.
Finding the right kind of special needs home requires careful research, on site evaluation, and money for the residence. Mostly it requires the the person and the guardians be entirely comfortable with the setting. More on this later.
Meanwhile, it seems to me that parents expend great time and energy both denying their child's situation and being afraid to accept any kind of responsibility for the child. In many ways this is understandable due to the sheer amount of resources available to help and the amount of teachers involved in your child's education. The state (and this is true for most states) goes to great lengths to help ease the educational process and protect the child from failure in the classroom. Over a period of several years, it is easy for the parent to become somewhat complacent and even dependent upon the educational process to solve all the problems and turn out a product that is capable of contributing to society.
Unfortunately, while schools can help and all efforts are certainly worth it, in the end the child still has limitations. The parent who denies the realities of the child's abilities or lack thereof is possibly a parent not providing for the welfare of the child and for the future. There is nothing to gain and much to lose by not being able to recognize the limitations of special needs children. Know that recognizing limitations does not mean using those challenges as excuses for mediocrity. Invoking high expectations on your child is the only way to promote the idea that there is a niche for all kinds of people.
But until the parent accepts the child as a special needs child with disabilities, the child is actually endangered by a world that is not designed for those with problems. So in spite of the constant demands on the parents, it is an absolute mandate to provide a safe, secure, comfortable world for your child, a world that allows him to reach his potential.
Tuesday, November 02, 2010
High Expectations and Respecting Reality
One of the hardest things about parenting an autistic child is to keep high expectations as part of the behavioral standard while recognizing the reality and the limitations. Unfortunately there is no magic formula or secret recipe for this kind of balance. It is a process of constantly keeping the ideal in mind but also remaining aware of the reality of what it means to be autistic.
An autistic child has limitations. Many of them. Their world is not like ours and they simply cannot do the things other people can do. Life moves too quickly for them and often appears random without the required order. There are usually abundances of stimulation, noise, complexity, color, and confusions surrounding our lives and an autistic tends to shut down amidst the chaos. In addition, the lack of physical coordination contributes to a sluggish and awkward existence, making crossing streets, reaching for things, writing, and general mobility rather difficult. Usually not being able to drive and almost not able to navigate public transportation, they are reliant on help to accomplish any task not readily accessible. Computers are potentially liberating in many ways, but for an autistic a computer is simply another machine full of complex problems and over stimulation.
More limitations are caused by a lack of curiosity, little imagination, few dreams, and the inability to use creativity in solving problems. All these and more are debilitating realities of the life of an autistic. Ironically and comfortably at least to an extent, they do not always recognize their own limits, and instead learn how to cope and how to exist successfully within the small frame of ability.
But as I told Joel Tucker, our 20 year old autistic son, he may not use his disabilities as an excuse for mediocrity or poor behavior. To this end, we have invoked a series of high expectations and goals for our son and constantly encourage him to reach for these things. Some are rather trivial in some ways, involving hygiene, life skills, and coping techniques, while others are substantial and complicated. Each day we remind him of his goals and each day we present several high expectations to him. Obviously if the goals are unattainable, we risk disappointment, depression, and stress. On the other side, if the goals are too simple, then he has nothing for which to strive.
This all creates a healthy balance of respecting the reality of the situation without letting go of the ideal. It is called parenting a disabled child and we have done so for 20 years to some degree of both success and failure. We often ask ourselves, "What can he accomplish?" Or "What is the best thing for Joel?" These questions and more govern our actions as guardians and dictate our goals for him. Without being imperialistic, however, we also encourage Joel to set his own goals and reach for the highest in all things. This is particularly important as the adult years set in.
Joel's own goals are usually immediate and involve some sort of gratification of the senses. His lack of a concept of time prevents him from forecasting or projecting the future. This means that we encourage him to develop his short term goals, but we guide him toward the longer term, always remaining committed to the balance of high expectations and recognition of reality.
As I write this little piece, I am reminded that though the limitations are different and though the dreams may be framed by his autism, the process for helping Joel is not dissimilar to helping anyone including ourselves. We should dream big and relentlessly pursue the ideal, but also be shaped by our current reality. It all makes for a wonderfully complex culture and one that is guaranteed to keep us hopping!
An autistic child has limitations. Many of them. Their world is not like ours and they simply cannot do the things other people can do. Life moves too quickly for them and often appears random without the required order. There are usually abundances of stimulation, noise, complexity, color, and confusions surrounding our lives and an autistic tends to shut down amidst the chaos. In addition, the lack of physical coordination contributes to a sluggish and awkward existence, making crossing streets, reaching for things, writing, and general mobility rather difficult. Usually not being able to drive and almost not able to navigate public transportation, they are reliant on help to accomplish any task not readily accessible. Computers are potentially liberating in many ways, but for an autistic a computer is simply another machine full of complex problems and over stimulation.
More limitations are caused by a lack of curiosity, little imagination, few dreams, and the inability to use creativity in solving problems. All these and more are debilitating realities of the life of an autistic. Ironically and comfortably at least to an extent, they do not always recognize their own limits, and instead learn how to cope and how to exist successfully within the small frame of ability.
But as I told Joel Tucker, our 20 year old autistic son, he may not use his disabilities as an excuse for mediocrity or poor behavior. To this end, we have invoked a series of high expectations and goals for our son and constantly encourage him to reach for these things. Some are rather trivial in some ways, involving hygiene, life skills, and coping techniques, while others are substantial and complicated. Each day we remind him of his goals and each day we present several high expectations to him. Obviously if the goals are unattainable, we risk disappointment, depression, and stress. On the other side, if the goals are too simple, then he has nothing for which to strive.
This all creates a healthy balance of respecting the reality of the situation without letting go of the ideal. It is called parenting a disabled child and we have done so for 20 years to some degree of both success and failure. We often ask ourselves, "What can he accomplish?" Or "What is the best thing for Joel?" These questions and more govern our actions as guardians and dictate our goals for him. Without being imperialistic, however, we also encourage Joel to set his own goals and reach for the highest in all things. This is particularly important as the adult years set in.
Joel's own goals are usually immediate and involve some sort of gratification of the senses. His lack of a concept of time prevents him from forecasting or projecting the future. This means that we encourage him to develop his short term goals, but we guide him toward the longer term, always remaining committed to the balance of high expectations and recognition of reality.
As I write this little piece, I am reminded that though the limitations are different and though the dreams may be framed by his autism, the process for helping Joel is not dissimilar to helping anyone including ourselves. We should dream big and relentlessly pursue the ideal, but also be shaped by our current reality. It all makes for a wonderfully complex culture and one that is guaranteed to keep us hopping!
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Ring-tailed Cat and My Dad
As a typical boy into fishing, baseball, getting dirty, playing cowboys and indians, and being outdoors, I enjoyed my experience in Y Indian Guides, an organization of fathers and sons dedicated to learning more about the Indians. We would gather at someone's house, adorn ourselves in Indian garb (at least our perception of what Indians wore), and talk about being an Indian, including making fires, arrowheads, teepees, and dancing. Lots of whoops and pretend horse riding took place and most nights ended with my Dad playing guitar and singing folk songs not always about Indians but still fun stuff.
Outside of El Paso stands an extended rock formation called Hueco Tanks. Ideal for camping, climbing, picnics, geographical study, and exploring, it was decided that a weekend at Hueco Tanks would be both fun and educational for the Y-Indian Guides. I recall the excitement as we loaded up cots, sleeping bags, food, and of course our Indian stuff for the trip. Arriving and setting up camp, we did some exploring and had several boy adventures. Following a good meal of beans and sausage, we sat around the campfire enjoying marshmallows and folk songs with my Dad leading the way in She'll Be Coming Around the Mountain and Home on the Range. We then laid down in our sleeping bags located on the cots and went to sleep while the Dads stayed up awhile discussing the amazing facts of Indians and the outdoor world (or at least that was what I thought).
Approximately 2 in the morning, I awakened abruptly. Opening my eyes I found myself staring at a humongous monster with massive eyes and fur. Frightening for sure but only for an instant. Almost immediately I heard the crack of a whip and a loud voice yelling "get out of here." Not totally sure what happened but relieved just the same, my dad ran over to me holding me tight and asking if I were okay. Soon the camp was alive as dads and sons wanted to know what happened. My father proceeded to explain that he heard a noise, glanced over and saw a Ring-tailed Cat sitting on my sleeping bag staring at me. This nocturnal animal is common in rocky areas and its curiosity brought it to our camp. Grabbing his whip and cracking it in the air near the animal, my father was prepared to do further damage. Likely the animal being frightened from the whip and the madman, quickly departed and we did not see it again.
The adults had a brief discussion and the kids were told to go back to sleep which we did. The next morning there was some talk of the exciting event but eventually we settled into the same rock climbing adventures, going home later that afternoon. Dad later told me that following the incident, he and the other dads took turns keeping vigilance over us throughout the rest of the night. Not really understanding the situation and probably thinking more about baseball practice anyway, I forgot about the event.
Forty something years later and now thinking back I am wondering several things. How did my dad know there was a problem? He was asleep but awakened for some reason. Did he hesitate at all? Was he frightened? Did he grab the whip, crack it and yell all in one motion?
I have to believe that fathers generally have a sense of protection for their family. They are always looking out for their children and want to make them safe. At the same time, they encourage independence and an adventurous spirit but always within the boundaries of wisdom and security. In a sleep state but somehow alert at the same time, my dad sensed a situation and without hesitation he grabbed the whip, wielded it, and ended the problem. I believe that had that cat reached out to me, Dad would have attacked it physically without regard for his own safety. Although none of this registered with me at the time, I now know his love for me and his family trumped all self-preservation to him.
Throughout my growing up and now that I am a father myself, and watching my children move into adulthood, I recognize the kind of love that spurs us onto action and protection. In many ways it is the same kind of love our Heavenly Father has for us. Now that my dad is gone, I miss him. But in truth, and in many ways, he is me. As a college administrator I realize that the lessons I learned from my father can be applied not just to my own family but to my profession as well. Love and Leadership is about providing a safe, secure, and creative environment that allows people to reach their potential. That is the kind of person I want to be. Thanks to my Dad for being the model for love and excellence. Sure do miss him!
Outside of El Paso stands an extended rock formation called Hueco Tanks. Ideal for camping, climbing, picnics, geographical study, and exploring, it was decided that a weekend at Hueco Tanks would be both fun and educational for the Y-Indian Guides. I recall the excitement as we loaded up cots, sleeping bags, food, and of course our Indian stuff for the trip. Arriving and setting up camp, we did some exploring and had several boy adventures. Following a good meal of beans and sausage, we sat around the campfire enjoying marshmallows and folk songs with my Dad leading the way in She'll Be Coming Around the Mountain and Home on the Range. We then laid down in our sleeping bags located on the cots and went to sleep while the Dads stayed up awhile discussing the amazing facts of Indians and the outdoor world (or at least that was what I thought).
Approximately 2 in the morning, I awakened abruptly. Opening my eyes I found myself staring at a humongous monster with massive eyes and fur. Frightening for sure but only for an instant. Almost immediately I heard the crack of a whip and a loud voice yelling "get out of here." Not totally sure what happened but relieved just the same, my dad ran over to me holding me tight and asking if I were okay. Soon the camp was alive as dads and sons wanted to know what happened. My father proceeded to explain that he heard a noise, glanced over and saw a Ring-tailed Cat sitting on my sleeping bag staring at me. This nocturnal animal is common in rocky areas and its curiosity brought it to our camp. Grabbing his whip and cracking it in the air near the animal, my father was prepared to do further damage. Likely the animal being frightened from the whip and the madman, quickly departed and we did not see it again.
The adults had a brief discussion and the kids were told to go back to sleep which we did. The next morning there was some talk of the exciting event but eventually we settled into the same rock climbing adventures, going home later that afternoon. Dad later told me that following the incident, he and the other dads took turns keeping vigilance over us throughout the rest of the night. Not really understanding the situation and probably thinking more about baseball practice anyway, I forgot about the event.
Forty something years later and now thinking back I am wondering several things. How did my dad know there was a problem? He was asleep but awakened for some reason. Did he hesitate at all? Was he frightened? Did he grab the whip, crack it and yell all in one motion?
I have to believe that fathers generally have a sense of protection for their family. They are always looking out for their children and want to make them safe. At the same time, they encourage independence and an adventurous spirit but always within the boundaries of wisdom and security. In a sleep state but somehow alert at the same time, my dad sensed a situation and without hesitation he grabbed the whip, wielded it, and ended the problem. I believe that had that cat reached out to me, Dad would have attacked it physically without regard for his own safety. Although none of this registered with me at the time, I now know his love for me and his family trumped all self-preservation to him.
Throughout my growing up and now that I am a father myself, and watching my children move into adulthood, I recognize the kind of love that spurs us onto action and protection. In many ways it is the same kind of love our Heavenly Father has for us. Now that my dad is gone, I miss him. But in truth, and in many ways, he is me. As a college administrator I realize that the lessons I learned from my father can be applied not just to my own family but to my profession as well. Love and Leadership is about providing a safe, secure, and creative environment that allows people to reach their potential. That is the kind of person I want to be. Thanks to my Dad for being the model for love and excellence. Sure do miss him!
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Cause and Effect
Heading out on a Saturday morning to drop Joel off at his grandmother's house for the morning, I noticed that on this slightly brisk day guaranteed to warm up into the 80s in afternoon, Joel was donned in a toboggan, scarf, heavy coat, and gloves. I gently but also directly told him that his clothes were too warm for the projected temperature of the day. As is typical for him, he disagreed and insisted on wearing the clothes.
Choosing not to argue at that moment, we climbed in the truck for the 20 minute drive. I noticed the temperature in the truck read 64 degrees and climbing. Mentioning this to Joel, I also said it was likely going to be in the 80s by mid-morning with the sun shining brightly. He said no I was wrong that it was going to snow.
Perplexed by this pronouncement, I asked him why he believed it would snow. His response was that he was dressed for snow, therefore it would snow. I stayed quiet for a few minutes to reflect on this statement. Joel has never completely understood cause and effect. In some ways it has created some curiosity, but in other ways he simply rejects that idea. He knows that what he does can cause an effect of some kind or another, but he has a difficult time discerning or predicting what the effect will be. He cannot determine people's reactions and he cannot determine his own place in creating certain responses in other people. It is all a mystery to him.
This is partly why he wears ties, suits to football games and partly why it seems okay for him to wander around or sit when others are standing or hug when others are shaking hands or insist on playing the organ too loud or the myriad of behaviors Joel tends to do. He does not see anything wrong and cannot assess how people will react to him. Not only that, but their reactions have little meaning to him. He resides in his own tinted existence not worrying about how others see him. Consequently he does not pass judgment on other behaviors other than those events learned specifically out of experience or repetition of order. Cause and effect is peripheral at best in his world, a world without imagination and world requiring routine and order.
Deep down I suspect he knew that he could not cause it to snow simply by wearing warm clothes. He knows that neither nor anyone else governs the snow or lack thereof. Yet because he gives no thought to the reactions of other people, and because he often confuses the cause and effect of his own behavior, he somehow converted his desire for snow into a kind of demand. His appearance and yes his preparation ought to result in the weather change.
I convinced him to watch for the temperature to rise above 72 with the idea that a number would be the catalyst to change, and then further convinced him to remove the toboggan, the gloves, the scarf, and finally the coat upon hitting 72. Reluctant at first, the rising temperature number was the final convincer, making Joel realize that his clothes did not cause the snow.
Still, what a nice dream for our dress to create weather change! Would it were so.
Choosing not to argue at that moment, we climbed in the truck for the 20 minute drive. I noticed the temperature in the truck read 64 degrees and climbing. Mentioning this to Joel, I also said it was likely going to be in the 80s by mid-morning with the sun shining brightly. He said no I was wrong that it was going to snow.
Perplexed by this pronouncement, I asked him why he believed it would snow. His response was that he was dressed for snow, therefore it would snow. I stayed quiet for a few minutes to reflect on this statement. Joel has never completely understood cause and effect. In some ways it has created some curiosity, but in other ways he simply rejects that idea. He knows that what he does can cause an effect of some kind or another, but he has a difficult time discerning or predicting what the effect will be. He cannot determine people's reactions and he cannot determine his own place in creating certain responses in other people. It is all a mystery to him.
This is partly why he wears ties, suits to football games and partly why it seems okay for him to wander around or sit when others are standing or hug when others are shaking hands or insist on playing the organ too loud or the myriad of behaviors Joel tends to do. He does not see anything wrong and cannot assess how people will react to him. Not only that, but their reactions have little meaning to him. He resides in his own tinted existence not worrying about how others see him. Consequently he does not pass judgment on other behaviors other than those events learned specifically out of experience or repetition of order. Cause and effect is peripheral at best in his world, a world without imagination and world requiring routine and order.
Deep down I suspect he knew that he could not cause it to snow simply by wearing warm clothes. He knows that neither nor anyone else governs the snow or lack thereof. Yet because he gives no thought to the reactions of other people, and because he often confuses the cause and effect of his own behavior, he somehow converted his desire for snow into a kind of demand. His appearance and yes his preparation ought to result in the weather change.
I convinced him to watch for the temperature to rise above 72 with the idea that a number would be the catalyst to change, and then further convinced him to remove the toboggan, the gloves, the scarf, and finally the coat upon hitting 72. Reluctant at first, the rising temperature number was the final convincer, making Joel realize that his clothes did not cause the snow.
Still, what a nice dream for our dress to create weather change! Would it were so.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Tough week
It has been a tough week, some of it due to my own theatre, but some due to external influences. And it was all exacerbated by my commitment to stop a nearly 50 year habit--nail-biting. I must come clean on this and express the truth, I am a devoted, relentless, non-stop nail biter and have been since being eye level with a puppy. It is a terrible vice but one that has provided immense relief and satisfaction for many years.
I have tried the various methods for quitting--nail polish, one finger at a time, accountability partners, prayer, constant gum or food, but nothing has helped. I continue to gnaw the nails as far as possible, often resulting in bleeding, pain, and grossly unsightly nails. Hands in pockets, gloves, fists have all been used in an effort to hide the truth. Yet in the end the reality shouts loud and clear--I am a consummate and complete nail-biter. Time to stop.
Yet as I type these words and can feel the nails almost touching the keys, my desire to chew them is nearly overwhelming. It is making me a nervous wreck. Four days now without biting and I want to pull out my hair (oops, another toughie!).
Added to this, I forgot to say goodbye to a good friend last Monday, I inadvertently created a lack of babysitter problem on Wednesday, and then said some silly things at various academic meetings on Friday. So it has been a tough week.
But I also recognize my own humanity and tendency to allow tension and stress to rule my reactions to events. Even as an objective and skilled administrator, I must admit to a lack of perfection. We learn from our mistakes, we grow from the weaknesses, and we only improve from recognition of the potential.
Recalling an award given to me in college where I was recognized as the "composer with the greatest capacity for improvement," I am thankful for the opportunity to improve. Improve I shall for aside from the mistakes, I am governed by desire for excellence. We press forward to the highest goals, knowing that occasionally there are bumps along the way.
I have tried the various methods for quitting--nail polish, one finger at a time, accountability partners, prayer, constant gum or food, but nothing has helped. I continue to gnaw the nails as far as possible, often resulting in bleeding, pain, and grossly unsightly nails. Hands in pockets, gloves, fists have all been used in an effort to hide the truth. Yet in the end the reality shouts loud and clear--I am a consummate and complete nail-biter. Time to stop.
Yet as I type these words and can feel the nails almost touching the keys, my desire to chew them is nearly overwhelming. It is making me a nervous wreck. Four days now without biting and I want to pull out my hair (oops, another toughie!).
Added to this, I forgot to say goodbye to a good friend last Monday, I inadvertently created a lack of babysitter problem on Wednesday, and then said some silly things at various academic meetings on Friday. So it has been a tough week.
But I also recognize my own humanity and tendency to allow tension and stress to rule my reactions to events. Even as an objective and skilled administrator, I must admit to a lack of perfection. We learn from our mistakes, we grow from the weaknesses, and we only improve from recognition of the potential.
Recalling an award given to me in college where I was recognized as the "composer with the greatest capacity for improvement," I am thankful for the opportunity to improve. Improve I shall for aside from the mistakes, I am governed by desire for excellence. We press forward to the highest goals, knowing that occasionally there are bumps along the way.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
The Challenge, The Success, The Journey Done
A musician is gone from this world, leaving a legacy of outstanding recordings, beautiful performances, and stunning moments of inspiration not just to those with handicaps, but to everyone he encountered. His name was Stacy Blair, a trumpet player of the highest order. A brilliant man whose unbridled talent was matched by his relentless discipline and desire for success, Stacy overcame his blindness to become one of the greatest trumpet artists of his time. I urge you to read his biography and take a minute to remember this amazing man, a man dedicated to excellence in performance. http://stacyblair.org/Stacy_Blair/About.html
As a very immature but somewhat talented horn player, when I first arrived at Hardin-Simmons in 1978, I heard the stories of the legend of Stacy Blair. Stories that were hard to imagine but indeed were true. Stories of his ping-pong and pool playing abilities, his sense of his surroundings, his ability to remember every voice and sound he heard, and mostly his remarkable talent. But these truths paled in comparison to his rigorous discipline and commitment to excellence. His gifts were immense as was his engaging personality and brilliance. As a student at HSU, Stacy was rarely found without a trumpet or mouthpiece in his hand, not wanting to waste an opportunity to improve. Yes, he was talented and had an aptitude for the trumpet, but it was his devotion to practice and learning that is the most impressive. As a sophomore at Hardin-Simmons, I finally met the legend and I asked him if he had any suggestions for me as a budding horn player. He laughed that famous contagious laugh of his and said, "Practice much and listen always!"
Because of his blindness, he learned music by listening to recordings and imitating the masters. Imitation being the greatest form of flattery, Stacy took this to another level by infusing his own artistry and personality into his performances. Specializing on the piccolo trumpet, but adept at all styles, Stacy performed throughout the world with orchestras, making beautiful recordings demonstrating his unswerving dedication to beauty and excellence. But it was his concerts at churches and various conferences that stick out in my mind. He and Dr. John Campbell on the organ performed throughout the state and beyond, gracing congregations and audiences with trumpet joy and musical artistry. When he played, his music communicated beauty and love that seemed to reach to the soul. He was not a great blind trumpet player, instead he was a wonderfully expressive, technically gifted, and incredible trumpet player who also happened not to be able to see.
His blindness was a challenge but he met it head-on with a prodigious memory. His memory was that of a computer, and his ability to organize what he, heard was without equal. I recall giving him a phone call after a few years of not having spoken with him. He answered "This is Stacy Blair" and I said "Hi Stacy, this is...". But before I could finish, he said, "Hi Rob, How are you?" I asked him if he would be available for a performance and he said with a touch of amusement, "I'll have to check my calendar." I knew his calendar was in his head! Later walking with him, I noticed he operated on two levels, conversing normally but also being aware of his surroundings, sensing obstacles and changes in the feel of the room or environment. He knew where the tree was or the chair and always knew when a person was coming close to him. He counted steps and memorized everything as he journeyed.
He was a living testament to overcoming disabilities, to having a strong work ethic, and to a life of musical expression. Yet, struggle he did at times. The life of a musician can be difficult, wrought full of financial ups and downs, great stress, fear of decline, and waiting for the next phone call. All these plus the ubiquitous problems of blindness and deteriorating health took their toll on Stacy who struggled with various challenges the last few years.
I recall spending some time with a blind pianist several years ago. I went to his motel room to pick him up for a concert at church. He opened the door, letting me in and closing the door behind him. Suddenly I was steeped in almost total darkness and rather shocked about it. I really could not see anything. Yet I could hear my friend rummaging around in the room getting things ready to go. He then asked me to grab the voice translator box that was near the bed. Not wanting to demonstrate weakness, I began to feel my way around the room hoping to touch the object and get it out to the car. Finally after hitting my foot and nearly hitting my head on something, I asked him if I could turn on the light?
He laughed uproariously and said "Of course, it doesn't matter to me." I was immediately struck by my own ineptness at handling darkness even for two minutes, realizing he had spent his entire life that way. The challenges of blindness can only be understood by the blind. As an exercise, try spending a few hours functioning in the world with your eyes shut or covered. The challenge is tremendous and the sympathy for the blind will remain with you forever.
Stacy's blindness was not an obstacle for him as a musician, but in some ways it was difficult for him as a traveling soloist. The seeing eye dog helped as did the myriad of people, but in the end it must have been a challenge and one that only a blind performer could understand. In spite of that, Stacy was a fireball of joy and happiness. Always quick to laugh, he loved life, people, and music, spreading joy everywhere he went with a constant kind word, a smile on his face, and an optimistic spirit. Who can forget his sly grin and creative spark as he offered his warm personality to everyone. He will be missed but he leaves behind a wealth of recordings and a host of people who admired him and learned from him. He gave us so much and will not be forgotten. Thank you Stacy for being such an inspiration to so many.
As a very immature but somewhat talented horn player, when I first arrived at Hardin-Simmons in 1978, I heard the stories of the legend of Stacy Blair. Stories that were hard to imagine but indeed were true. Stories of his ping-pong and pool playing abilities, his sense of his surroundings, his ability to remember every voice and sound he heard, and mostly his remarkable talent. But these truths paled in comparison to his rigorous discipline and commitment to excellence. His gifts were immense as was his engaging personality and brilliance. As a student at HSU, Stacy was rarely found without a trumpet or mouthpiece in his hand, not wanting to waste an opportunity to improve. Yes, he was talented and had an aptitude for the trumpet, but it was his devotion to practice and learning that is the most impressive. As a sophomore at Hardin-Simmons, I finally met the legend and I asked him if he had any suggestions for me as a budding horn player. He laughed that famous contagious laugh of his and said, "Practice much and listen always!"
Because of his blindness, he learned music by listening to recordings and imitating the masters. Imitation being the greatest form of flattery, Stacy took this to another level by infusing his own artistry and personality into his performances. Specializing on the piccolo trumpet, but adept at all styles, Stacy performed throughout the world with orchestras, making beautiful recordings demonstrating his unswerving dedication to beauty and excellence. But it was his concerts at churches and various conferences that stick out in my mind. He and Dr. John Campbell on the organ performed throughout the state and beyond, gracing congregations and audiences with trumpet joy and musical artistry. When he played, his music communicated beauty and love that seemed to reach to the soul. He was not a great blind trumpet player, instead he was a wonderfully expressive, technically gifted, and incredible trumpet player who also happened not to be able to see.
His blindness was a challenge but he met it head-on with a prodigious memory. His memory was that of a computer, and his ability to organize what he, heard was without equal. I recall giving him a phone call after a few years of not having spoken with him. He answered "This is Stacy Blair" and I said "Hi Stacy, this is...". But before I could finish, he said, "Hi Rob, How are you?" I asked him if he would be available for a performance and he said with a touch of amusement, "I'll have to check my calendar." I knew his calendar was in his head! Later walking with him, I noticed he operated on two levels, conversing normally but also being aware of his surroundings, sensing obstacles and changes in the feel of the room or environment. He knew where the tree was or the chair and always knew when a person was coming close to him. He counted steps and memorized everything as he journeyed.
He was a living testament to overcoming disabilities, to having a strong work ethic, and to a life of musical expression. Yet, struggle he did at times. The life of a musician can be difficult, wrought full of financial ups and downs, great stress, fear of decline, and waiting for the next phone call. All these plus the ubiquitous problems of blindness and deteriorating health took their toll on Stacy who struggled with various challenges the last few years.
I recall spending some time with a blind pianist several years ago. I went to his motel room to pick him up for a concert at church. He opened the door, letting me in and closing the door behind him. Suddenly I was steeped in almost total darkness and rather shocked about it. I really could not see anything. Yet I could hear my friend rummaging around in the room getting things ready to go. He then asked me to grab the voice translator box that was near the bed. Not wanting to demonstrate weakness, I began to feel my way around the room hoping to touch the object and get it out to the car. Finally after hitting my foot and nearly hitting my head on something, I asked him if I could turn on the light?
He laughed uproariously and said "Of course, it doesn't matter to me." I was immediately struck by my own ineptness at handling darkness even for two minutes, realizing he had spent his entire life that way. The challenges of blindness can only be understood by the blind. As an exercise, try spending a few hours functioning in the world with your eyes shut or covered. The challenge is tremendous and the sympathy for the blind will remain with you forever.
Stacy's blindness was not an obstacle for him as a musician, but in some ways it was difficult for him as a traveling soloist. The seeing eye dog helped as did the myriad of people, but in the end it must have been a challenge and one that only a blind performer could understand. In spite of that, Stacy was a fireball of joy and happiness. Always quick to laugh, he loved life, people, and music, spreading joy everywhere he went with a constant kind word, a smile on his face, and an optimistic spirit. Who can forget his sly grin and creative spark as he offered his warm personality to everyone. He will be missed but he leaves behind a wealth of recordings and a host of people who admired him and learned from him. He gave us so much and will not be forgotten. Thank you Stacy for being such an inspiration to so many.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Who Is This Person?
Too often we spend our time reacting to other people, particularly those we love, being angry at their flaws, or hopefully loving their positive qualities. For those outside our immediate circle, we may be envious, or admiring, or full of disdain, but we rarely seem to understand or sympathize with their situation or even their own emotional condition. No, I am not teaching tolerance here, I am instead advocating a deeper understanding of human nature, autistics in particular.
From very small children to adults, rather than criticizing perhaps we should be empathizing or to take it another step further, maybe it is time for many of us to look at the world through the eyes of the challenged. The recent passing of a friend who was a blind trumpet player prompted me again to imagine a world without sight. How must that be? Each day I depend so much on my sight and my mind to process that which I see, from people to things, to this computer, to the vast array of colors, shapes, symbols that cross my path almost minute by minute. Not to have sight presents a world of darkness and imagination that must be entirely different from what sighted people experience daily.
I am not convinced that we as loving parents of our autistic son have ever truly understood his perspective on life. Sometimes I am not sure who he really is in fact. How does his brain process information, what does he see, hear, feel? We have worked so hard to help him cope and fit in to this crazy world, that maybe we have missed a thorough comprehension of Joel's inner sanctum. Yet while it is easy to acknowledge this possibility, it is far more challenging to fix the problem. Who is Joel?
I recall picking up one of those odd shopping baskets a few weeks ago that seemed to have a steering problem. While dwelling on the pitiful emotion of feeling like I always get the bad buggy, I began to compensate for its flaws. Yes I would have preferred a little more ease of mobility, and yes I had to use a touch of elbow grease to make it work well, but on the other hand, it beat having to carry cereal, coffee, meat, bread, and canned goods in my arms. The little cart struggled some but we worked together and came to some positive resolutions! Perhaps it was later repaired or perhaps someone else came along and shared in the challenging joy of steering the little guy.
At first I was frustrated that my cart did not work the way I had hoped. My concept of shopping carts did not include a bad wheel. But I compensated for the situation and after awhile, almost did not notice the problem. Unlike Joel, however, the cart could be repaired or at least get a new wheel. Joel cannot get a new brain. He may one day have the opportunity to have it repaired (although we are many years away from that kind of biotechnology I think), but for now he simply has to adjust for the inherent situation in which he lives. As parents and guardians we work to steer him in such a way as to stay on course and accomplish his goals, but ultimately he has to find a way to direct himself.
Since this is true, it is frustrating and in many ways futile to resist and try to change those characteristics that make Joel who he is. What does work is seeking to embrace his qualities and approach him in the way he approaches life, avoiding the abstract, creating an environment of trust, keeping things ordered and pleasant, and recognizing his limitations. This makes for a healthier and happier theater for him. A principle of teaching is somewhere in this essay--find him where he is and help him accomplish those things that will benefit him the most.
From very small children to adults, rather than criticizing perhaps we should be empathizing or to take it another step further, maybe it is time for many of us to look at the world through the eyes of the challenged. The recent passing of a friend who was a blind trumpet player prompted me again to imagine a world without sight. How must that be? Each day I depend so much on my sight and my mind to process that which I see, from people to things, to this computer, to the vast array of colors, shapes, symbols that cross my path almost minute by minute. Not to have sight presents a world of darkness and imagination that must be entirely different from what sighted people experience daily.
I am not convinced that we as loving parents of our autistic son have ever truly understood his perspective on life. Sometimes I am not sure who he really is in fact. How does his brain process information, what does he see, hear, feel? We have worked so hard to help him cope and fit in to this crazy world, that maybe we have missed a thorough comprehension of Joel's inner sanctum. Yet while it is easy to acknowledge this possibility, it is far more challenging to fix the problem. Who is Joel?
I recall picking up one of those odd shopping baskets a few weeks ago that seemed to have a steering problem. While dwelling on the pitiful emotion of feeling like I always get the bad buggy, I began to compensate for its flaws. Yes I would have preferred a little more ease of mobility, and yes I had to use a touch of elbow grease to make it work well, but on the other hand, it beat having to carry cereal, coffee, meat, bread, and canned goods in my arms. The little cart struggled some but we worked together and came to some positive resolutions! Perhaps it was later repaired or perhaps someone else came along and shared in the challenging joy of steering the little guy.
At first I was frustrated that my cart did not work the way I had hoped. My concept of shopping carts did not include a bad wheel. But I compensated for the situation and after awhile, almost did not notice the problem. Unlike Joel, however, the cart could be repaired or at least get a new wheel. Joel cannot get a new brain. He may one day have the opportunity to have it repaired (although we are many years away from that kind of biotechnology I think), but for now he simply has to adjust for the inherent situation in which he lives. As parents and guardians we work to steer him in such a way as to stay on course and accomplish his goals, but ultimately he has to find a way to direct himself.
Since this is true, it is frustrating and in many ways futile to resist and try to change those characteristics that make Joel who he is. What does work is seeking to embrace his qualities and approach him in the way he approaches life, avoiding the abstract, creating an environment of trust, keeping things ordered and pleasant, and recognizing his limitations. This makes for a healthier and happier theater for him. A principle of teaching is somewhere in this essay--find him where he is and help him accomplish those things that will benefit him the most.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)