by Sarah | May 11, 2012 | All About Molly, Autism, Crap, Random, Special Needs
[flickr id=”7089103379″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]It’s never a good thing when in the middle of a class ‘event’ with many parents present – the teacher singles you out and pulls you aside before you can leave.
“Just for a moment.”
Last week the class had a field trip.
Field Trip = Change in Routine.
Change in Routine = Over-Stimulated Molly.
The teacher let us know that on the trip Molly had a bit of trouble. She never stopped. Once. Nearly running into the street at one point. If Teacher had to pull her attention away or let go of Molly’s hand for even a second, Molly used that to run off.
Eventually one of the parents caught on and became Molly’s ‘keeper’ for the rest of the field trip – but it was a bit of a hectic day.
So now it’s been decided that going forward Molly will need a ‘keeper’ on any field trips. It’s not something that’s likely to end up on the IEP, but it’s something the teachers will be aware of.
It is our decision to also make them aware that I will be her ‘keeper’.
So I will be the official Molly-Chaperone for all future field trips.
Even the ones I usually avoid.
Fun.
by Sarah | Mar 21, 2012 | All About Kennedy, All About Molly, Anger Issues, Autism, Special Needs, Therapy
[flickr id=”6270891807″ thumbnail=”small_320″ overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]We have known for a long time that our sweet little Angel girl had a temper problem.
Dichotomy that she is – she was the sweetest and smilingest baby ever…then on a dime she would launch into a screaming fit the likes of which I can’t begin to describe. She has the capability to burst ear drums with her high pitched scream. Worse than that, and the part that frightened us, was her tendency to self injure. Slamming her head into the corner of doorways, the floor, our faces. You know, whatever is handy.
We hoped she’d outgrow it. She hasn’t. Fortunately the self-injury part of it is softened down to the occasional digging at her nose until it bleeds. While she still throws major tantrums and fits – they have become the slamming her bedroom door and kicking it and the walls while screaming that life is unfair for a six year old little girl.
Then she started school. We didn’t know what would happen there. Feared the worst.
At her parent teacher conference we learned the truth of it.
When a teacher of Kindergarten children says there’s a temper issue – you know there’s a problem.
Since then we’ve heard little (or rather nothing) else that her temper was a continuing or growing issue. Until last week. Angel brought home from school a permission slip. The Guidance Counselor offers “small group counseling” for the students. Angel had been pegged and needed permission to participate in one.
“Friendship and Social Skills (Communication, appropriate expression of feelings and wants, problem solving skills)”
Hmmmm….Temper much?
So now every week my little Angel goes to a counseling session to try to learn to control her temper.
Tell me why this wasn’t offered earlier? Like when I asked the school about how to help her – or expressly said that she had a temper issue and we needed to know how to take care of it if it was noticed at the school.
Why is assistance only after a LONG period of them witnessing it? Why aren’t we listened to when we expressly say there are issues with our children? Are we not a squeaky enough wheel?
*~*~*~*
(P.S. Riley has also come home this week w/ the same note and will start her sessions on monday. Considering she has autism and spends EVERY recess all by herself – this also should have been offered sooner for her)
by Sarah | Jan 6, 2012 | All About Molly, Autism, Crap, Special Needs
[flickr id=”6650056311″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]Every day without fail I pull into the parking lot of the elementary school to pick up Angel. At the same time every day I get into line behind the other parents, sometimes even in front of the line.
85% of the time so I don’t feel rushed to shove her in the car and go I end up toward the back of the line. This prime spot affords me a clear view of the area the older kids have their recess in. It’s mostly parking lot, but to the right there’s a large grassy area with a playground.
Every day in dry weather above freezing they run around like little ants. Hustling and bustling so fast it’s hard to keep track of them. All playing together. Laughing, shouting. Playing tag, pushing each other on the swings. Kicking balls, sliding down the slide. Talking. Laughing. Being with friends.
Except one.
One girl.
My girl.
My beautiful Riley.
Sure she runs. In circles. Behind the other kids.
Mirroring play.
Never participating in it.
Sometimes walking slow, all by herself. Other times watching, laughing after the joke has passed and the group has moved on. Never right in the moment.
And every time I see it, it breaks my heart.
She loves school.
I have seen in the contained space of the classroom how her friends aide her, pull her in to participate, make sure she is included.
It is only in recess that I see this.
If she feels the pain I do when I see it, she can’t express it. Or chooses not to.
But I know it’s there. I know that she will always remember the ‘different’ she felt. I know this, because her dad remembers the same feeling. The same sense of ‘different’. The same attempts to participate without the sense of how.
It’s something I don’t know how to fix for her. I can’t go to the school and force the kids to make the effort in recess. It’s their wild time, it’s expected to just run free.
But still…
What I wouldn’t give for her to be pulled in to the games. Instead of mirroring, melting in.
by Sarah | Nov 1, 2011 | All About Molly, Autism
[flickr id=”5314105434″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]For a few brief shining weeks we had sunlight. Behaviors were eased, we were in the high-functioning range of life. There were smiles and lots of conversation and boy did we pig out.
The past few weeks we’ve been in a downward spiral.
There have been meltdowns. There have been smart mouths and pouting and stomping and periods of long angry silence.
We have been ignored in favor of ticks and quirks.
We have been witness to behavior uncontrollable enough that we’ve been asked by 2 doctors if we’ve been considering medication for her.
There has been a refusal to eat. Just about ANYthing.
We hold out hope that the worst will pass. That some modifications to schedule and school will result in an evening out. That medication will not be needed.
In the mean time we go forward. Facing each new challenging moment as it comes.
Wait for the light to return.
Hope that she can be happy. Without reservation.
by Sarah | Oct 26, 2011 | All About Learning, All About Molly, Autism, Crap, IEP, WTF?
[flickr id=”5885702438″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]School started two months ago. After the gains made last year, and the IEP already in place, we started this year with more hope than last year.
At meet-the-teacher night Archie and I both started to get uneasy.
When we waited after the session to speak to the teacher. We asked about her behavior, to which she replied that it was still too early in the year to say anything. That she doesn’t really pay heaps of attention to behavior – in her class it’s about learning.
That was the first red flag.
Then I mentioned the IEP and her teacher last year, and the response was…
“Well, I don’t look at the past. What happened last year is last year. I give the children a clean slate.”
Alarm bells sounded, dinging loud in our ears. The IEP HAS to be looked at. It’s there for a reason!!!
Still, we sat back. We gave it a chance. We had our IEP meeting for the new year. We thought everything was established and set in it. Everything was put into place. In black and white. The plan was set.
And then it came time for Parent-Teacher conferences.
During the meeting first of the year test scores were discussed. How low Riley’s results were and what they meant. And then it happened. The teacher said:
“It may have had something to do with how she handles tests. But tests are a part of life, we can’t change that and we can’t change how they are given. She just has to learn how to adjust.”
Both Archie & I were stunned into almost total silence. We wrapped up the meeting and got in the car and both said, “What the hell was THAT?”
We have an IEP that states tests are to be given in accordance with her needs. Tests CAN and WILL be changed.
We have decided to switch teachers. There are more reasons than just those two statements, but those alone are enough.
A teacher that doesn’t refer to or care about IEP’s are not what is needed. At all.
by Sarah | Sep 8, 2011 | All About Molly, Autism, Special Needs
[flickr id=”5800817094″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]Tomorrow we meet with the school.
One year later and I still can’t muster any enthusiasm for the special services department.
Yes. Riley did improve last year. She did learn a lot.
Still it seems as if it’s always a secondary thought. Like she’s lost in the sea of students. Like her needs are not as important as some other students.
We’ll see how the IEP goes.
If we find progress and hope.
All fingers are crossed.
But we’ll see.
