Monday, November 11, 2013

The Joy of Ben (Mrs. C close your eyes!)

So...we are going to KFC to pick up dinner.  I've been guarding a friends blog, and all we had was yucky leftovers.

Last time I rode with Ben driving, I nearly had a heart attack.  I swear, he was 5 feet behind the car in front of him going 60 miles an hour. I started screaming and crying hysterically, flailing my arms.  Well, maybe I just spoke up quite loudly--

"Get back, get back, get back, get back, GET BACK!!!!

He hasn't asked me along since.  Ingrate.  Who do you think taught him to drive?  All the hours,  this is the thanks I get.

"You're riding in the back seat.  I don't care what you say..."
"You aren't telling me how to drive.  You make me nervous."

We take off, headed towards the fast food joint.  I have to give directions.  It seems like he is going awfully fast to me...

I notice the trees along the creek on the way.  They are deciduous leaves and are turning. (Fall has finally arrived here in the South.)  They were so tall and thin when green, I had always thought they were pines.

"Look at those trees.  I think they might be birches." (Me)
"No they aren't, they're pines."
"No they are deciduous, they are losing their leaves."
"You are losing your leaves."
"No, I'm not. You are being a pine in the rear."
"Don't be such a birch".
"You can be so deciduous." (Me, kind of at a loss for trees.)
"Oh, go ficus yourself".
I am a little annoyed, but I laugh.  I know he didn't mean it. Because, if he did, he's getting his mouth washed out with soap. And I'm telling Grandma.

You see what happened there?  We NEVER talk.  We only banter.

When Ben was young, he had a "semantic-pragmatic disorder".  Which meant, he didn't learn to talk the way most kids do.  I used to cry and cry, afraid he would lose what little communication skills he had, that he would "regress".  Ben has no good memories of me when I was in the worry mode.  I worried even though my family told me there was "nothing wrong with Ben."  I thought I knew better.

I asked him, although he hates to talk about it.

"When did I change?  When did I quit worrying?"
"I don't want to talk about it, Ma..."
"No, really Ben.  I want to know if you can remember that I changed."
"It was sometime when we lived in Columbia." referring to a time between his age 7 and 12.

 I KNOW when it was.  It was 5th grade.  He was 10 years old.   He had a teacher who actually wanted him in his class.  She asked for him.

"I had a lot of trouble in 5th grade.  I used to have so much trouble with homework." she tells me.  It's the closest she ever came to telling me that she was Dyslexic, too.  Her last name was Hunt. God, knowing how easily distracted I am, slapped me up the side of the head  and used a foghorn with her name being the same as my mentor and Ben's Godmother.

Sunday, November 10, 2013

ABA ...your story.

I don't want to know your defense of ABA.  I want to know your story, and why you think it works.  I was a practitioner for 7 months at a residential school based on ABA tenents.  I know your trials.  I know 90% of the teachers were beautiful effective behavior managers, very kind and loving and always having the kids best interests at heart.  I know many of the kids were placed there because they couldn't go to their home schools, they were too severely impacted to take part in a typical school system.  Some kids lived there because their parents were unable to handle their behaviors at home.

My complaint, and I do have the lack of free will afforded to the children.  Skinner did not believe in it.   I could have chosen to use ABA methods on my son, and in a way I did.  But the difference between what I did for my child is, he always had a CHOICE.

Saturday, November 9, 2013

The Elephant in the Playroom.. Impacting the Bottom Line by RW.

I'm taking a chance here, I won't be sued. If they are that evil, @#$% it, have at me. They won't get much. I am the author of the article.  I signed something, but I don't remember what it said.  I believe in God, I believe in serendipity, and right after I had success with this "behavior therapy" (AKA, "parenting")for my son , I wrote up the article, and it was accepted for publication.  Maybe I helped one other person through it. I don't want to's not my intention to brag or put any jewel in my crown.

I just want to let you know what worked for me.  Since I implemented the plan, I have never gone back.  I have never gotten really upset at my son like I used to every day, except for the time he goofed around and nearly flunked out a semester at a tech college he attends.  That time, I nailed his hide to the wall and made him complete a month of work in a few days, and charged him $100 for being his secretary.  He passed, AND did well enough to keep his scholarship and a 3.0 grade average.  I'm not kidding.  I figured it was time to let the old anger rise up.  And that's what it was, old anger, although I felt it was righteous.  We can't stay angry at our kids for little crap and raise them.  ABA seems like it's always getting mad at little crap.  Like...if you let 'em get by with an inch, they'll take a mile.  I feel like if you give them a mile, they won't want to give up an inch.  But then again, I'm nuts. On the other hand, it WORKED! I think most parents learn this in time.  I remember Dad saying, "There's no need to punish you.  You're punishing yourself enough already."  He was a bartender.  Wouldn't think he'd be that wise...

Who, when their child asks for a fish, would give them a stone? Give your children everything you can, but let them know it is earned.  Life kind of works that way.  You are paid for what you do, not just for existing.  Sometimes the pay is money, sometimes the reward is far more spiritual.  I'm one of those goofy, Dore parents...I take this more seriously than my own life.  That's why I have so much fun.

It takes a long time to load but it was scanned and would turn out real fuzzy otherwise. You can click on the pages to enlarge them.

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Hey, Miss Emily...Another Crazy Diatribe from Rose

Above is a paper Ben completed for an English course at the tech college he attends.  Although it's pretty good and shows the depth of my little "quiet man", I think you have to notice the brevity he has always had with ideas; he has always gotten to the point because of the mental and physical demands of writing. There are mistakes that the teacher did not draw attention to.  She graded on what he had to say, not perfection.  This is an important point.

Okay, so I read the write-up by Gerald Grow you introduced me to here:  

He had only critique, no answers.  He took the information he had gathered and put it together in a rather wordy treatise. Obviously, words come easily to him.  Am I being flippant? I was pleased to see Dr. Silverman covered.  But dear, I am old and tired and I have no energy for that.  I could never read "experts" opinions of anything for Ben.  I had to have it from the horses mouth.  I had to know ideas that worked.

I've looked all morning for a story Ben dictated to me when he was 8 years old.  The paragraph above is very typical in it's brevity to what Ben would do in school. Below is a  true conversation we had one time he was doing his homework, writing a paragraph:

"Mom, what is the least amount of letters you can use to make a word?"
"Ben, they are usually at least 3 letters, maybe more."
"Mom, how many words in a sentence?"
"Ben, you've got to use at least 3 words in each sentence, try to have at least 5."
"Okay Mom, how many sentences in a paragraph?"
"Ben...why don't you write what you've want to say?  Three...there are at least 3 sentences in a paragraph."

And he would count them out and write a simple paragraph with as few, short words as possible.  EVERY TIME!

BUT, when he was 8 years old, I read about a mother who had her child dictate stories to her.  And I tried it with Ben.  It was 5 pages long, he told me where to capitalize, where each comma and period went, things that he was incapable of attending to when he wrote it out himself. It was very complex; very descriptive; very, very beyond his years.  It was a beautiful story about a magic egg. (I've built it up so much maybe it's better I can't find it...ha!) Ben just told me he wouldn't have given permission anyhow, it's embarrassing to him what he did as a child. His childhood is a source of pain to him. 

Sometimes, teachers can't see the burden they put on little shoulders.  Output is so difficult for some kids.  But it doesn't mean it isn't up there. Rather than trying to make the visual learner perform as a non-visual or typical learner, WHY, for the love of God, don't they give them accommodations that allow them the same success in school as the smarmy, left-brained troglodytes? Did I say that out loud? It's for the love of Ben.  I adore him. No test, no theory, no compartmentalizing experiment or maladaptive "teaching" process covers the beauty, the complexity that is Ben.

P.S.--I was one of the smarmy ones.

Now, from discussion with Dyslexics, who are 20% of the population and who I theorize are part of the hidden horde of autistics yet to be discovered once they start building up the "co-morbidities"....they are visual learners. And to a person school is a distant memory of torture. To give credence to their way of thinking would "not be fair to the other students".  Who said being forced to attend school without reward is fair?

When I was in the classroom, I could almost tell you who would have trouble, who was the outlier by their handwriting. I'm telling you our story and Ben's excuse. Typing helps, but still...what every visual learner needs is a secretary.  I've always told Ben that. Mr. Gage may want to help, but simply trying to understand the visual mind is only a curiosity.  There is no meat on them thar bones.

Thank God the architects, the artists, the writers, the poets, the dancers, the inventors, the actors, the dreamers, the crazy ones who didn't fit the mold weren't helped into being "normal". Those that don't think linearly, or sequentially or how they "should".

P.P.S.--Ben may have been concise, with errors, but what he said was perfect.

P.P.P.S.--this isn't the blog entry I started out to write.  I took what Dr. Grow very seriously the first time I read it.  Like it was "truth" about my son.  But somehow a deeper truth came out.  I'm sorry...

Okay, here I go...I have Grows work to my right.  I will go down the line of table one.
1.  Oh, God, I just can't.  This is too much.  I can't look that deeply into Ben.  I see the GESTALT of him, not the incremental "disabilities".  Forget this idea. I want to smack him, Grow, though.  He's like the dude that screams, "You misspelled 'the'..." He's going at it from the lack. I walked out of a parents meeting where the OT had 3 pages of things Ben couldn't do, and I didn't go back for a year.  You've got to realize, parent's of kids love their kids, and don't like to hear only what is wrong. What a nasty man.

Starting all over again, I know there was something rich here. Because this is a consensus of all the "visualists" Grow knew, I will break it down into people I know and have spoken with to understand Ben.

LACK of WORDS: Ben doesn't have this.  Ben is reticent to talk for some reason, but not this. He used to speak more haltingly, but he always found the word. I have an artist friend, whom I've never heard speak, who refuses to speak in public.  He says people think he is dull because he can't find the words.  A picture tells a thousand words, you know (simultaneously perceived, as Vgotsky notes).  It's not just an expression.
He says his art speaks for him.  He "talks" to me a lot online, and I love his stories.  He says writing gives him
a chance to think it over and find the right words.  He was diagnosed as Dyslexic.  He just thought he was stupid.

ABSENCE of ANALYSIS. The root of analysis is ANAL, isn't it?  Enough said. Oops, also, words used with socially shared meaning.  Sounds like Autism, eh?  Ben is the quiet man. He listens.  A lot of socialability is the ability to use your words to coerce others into doing what you want, king of the mountain games.  If thought is pure, why does it have to be shared? It has it's own merits. Nirvana is not a collective state, but an individual one.

WORDS AS LABELS OF UNSEEN PICTURES: ?Brevity? Think of autistics with severe communication problems.  They may use a word in a totally novel sense, because they "see" what it is they want, and for some reason equate those words to it.  Ben and I seldom have "conversations" of more than a few words, but we often play act out using similar scripts we find amusing, Drama-less Drama.

FEAR OF WORDS: The left brain is full of words.Words do separate.  The right brain is full of simply being one with the universe.  Visualists don't fear words, they don't use them to think. Analysis is the opposite of Intuition. And as far as I can tell, analysis has not given science any great advantage over art. Seeing IS forgetting the name of the the thing one sees!!! That is exactly what the intuit, the artist sees.  It is what the dreamer sees. And much of science has not come from grinding analytical thought into mush in order to find the secrets of the universe by straining through them, but from dreams, and ideas---the most perfect scientist being an artist, who observed without words. Leonardo Da Vinci saw the future, not the next step, but many steps.He did not theorize, he observed in detail, like the visualist running sand through his fingers.

STACKING, PACKING AND ENFOLDING WORDS.-- Literalists ("this is exactly what I mean to say") versus allowing interpretations ("make of it what you will".) My dyslexic artist friend will NEVER tell the meaning of his work to me.  He would prefer each individual interprets it for himself.  His meaning isn't importent. Ben has no desire to share his ideas, but to continue to work on them in his mind until he has the whole of it, at which time he will present it..

DIFFICULTY WITH DESCRIPTION: Look at Ben's work.  He does not dramatize, it isn't a game to coerce others with his ideas.  His sole purpose is to cut to the chase, to tell it like it is, not to convince you of anything.. My artist friend sends many, many pictures...with little "telling". Why describe when the truth is right there, unencumbered with manipulative language.  Why describe pictures to someone?  There is an essence there to behold without the "telling of what to think"---also known as "education".  (Sensory, independent interpretation shared instead of literal facts.) Sometimes a few word  tell it all, when more only serve to coerce or confuse. What is expository writing but selling your ideas? An autist, an artist, a visualist does not sell his words, but his ideas.  A person with autism must contantly be coerced into worlds of words that have no meaning to him. Life is to be experienced, not described.  The true meaning is lost in the description.

PROBLEMS OF WRITING IN SEQUENCE:  Ben, Native Americans, autists, artists, Adhd kids....all must visualize time in order to understand it.  Look up the visual clock, used with many LD kids so they know that "get this done in 15 minutes" has meaning to them. Ben never had a sense of time in that he would so easily traipse off to "lala land" as Dr Jill Nolte-Taylor described her descent into her right brain when an embolism destroyed her ability to use her left brain. Time is a construct without meaning unless visualized.  If you have no sense of time, you have no sense of sequence. Right brain thought is not linear, as a sequence, but associative. Dyslexics often lack the ability to sequence, as a student I had did.

DIFFICULTY WITH TRANSITIONS: Do we even have to go here?  Lala land is a very fine place, and it can be left more easily if the "great pulling out" is predictable.  No time sense?  It seems like you are always being demanded of something.  Ben did a great cartoon of a harried child sitting at his desk in the first frame.'The teacher, shown as only a voice caption, says, in the second frame:  "Do this, do this, do this!" and the child is working with the pile.  The third frame, the disembodied voice commands "Do that, do that, do that!"  and still the child just keeps his head down, working on the larger pile.  The fourth frame brings about the final insult.  "Do this!" and papers scatter everywhere...."ARRRRGGGGHHHH!" the child yells. My painter friend tells me he "gets lost" in his paintings and loses all sense of time, and can easily go 24 hours without stopping for anything. Time is of no essence.

OVERUSE OF "TO BE"--Everything happens all at once and in the present time...Listen to Bolte-Taylor as she describes the right brain as living in the now, and the left being concerned with the past and the future..Look to studies of dyslexics and others who must visually segment their time in order to finish projects, using calendars, coloring, alarms, to a much greater degree than others.  Planning ahead is a laborious process.  I use passive sentences a lot, we all do until we are trained not to.

NARRATIVE:  The last thing in the world I see Ben as is a storyteller.  Yet I know many dyslexics, or visualists, become award winning writers.  It is because they have learned to give words to the stories in their minds. Sally Gardner was a severely dyslexic child of successful lawyers.  She did not learn to read until she was 14 years old. and was sent to a school for the mentally ill where she had to fight to survive. She had always told herself stories to calm and ease the pain. She said out loud the stories of what she would do to the bullies, and frightened them enough to leave her alone..  Maybe the secret to her success was she sewed costumes for theatre groups, then became an illustrator of children's books before she wrote...she had the visual constructs of storytelling before her.  Her books, to me, are highly visual and read somewhat like scripts She is highly descriptive of surroundings, her heroes and heroines almost always based on those who live outside the confines of polite society who succeed because of magic. Magic and love are always a part of her stories, like the myths spoken of somewhere.  Mr. Grow's words....magic would not be my first descriptor.

PROBLEMS OF CONTEXT: Making assumptions of others  ability to "see" the context they have in mind sounds very autistic to me.  It is tiring to have to transpose one's visual thoughts into non-visual thoughts.  Visualists first language is pictures.  Ask anyone who speaks 2 languages...they "think" in two languages, too.

FORESTS AND TREES: All I can think here is yes, detail, grains of sand, wheels of cars,facts about subways.AND YET, for those who have obtained success...things like seeing the picture in your mind before you begin (My artist friend, Mr. Jones), seeing the whole code before you begin writing it, Temple Grandin building the building in her mind and working out the kinks as she travels through it, Jacob Barnett's ability to visualize mathematical relationships in the plaid fabric he loved, a dyslexic economist who feeds the details into a gestalt without being able to tell why she knows what is going to happen. (I can't think of her name right now but I see her face.(...aaaaaa, it's happening to me!! )  Is this a problem or a higher order of thinking that sacrifices the mundane middle ground? Sweeps up and uses the leftovers on each side, so to speak.

AESTHETIC INDISCRIMINATION:  Oh, Lord, give me an effing break buddy....Expository writing is a type of writing that is used to explain, describe, give information, or inform. Where the hell is the aesthetics in that??? Here, read this story by dyslexic (visual) poet Philip  Schultz

It's entitled "The God of Loneliness".  He doesn't tell you what to think, but if you have half a heart, he knows where he is taking you.

SUMMARY:  I used to think my way of thinking was superior to people like Ben's way of thinking.  I was ighly structured and analytical.  I played the game well enough to be in the top 1% of test takers. Ben has taught me how little that means. Mr. Jones and Ben are both smarter than I am, see things that I don't see.  I'm tired of people trying to tell me why my son is defective.  He is what he is.  No one arrived  at any new thought or changed the world thinking inside the box .  

If I could speak (and write) all the languages of earth and of angels, but didn't love others, I would only be a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.  (1st Corinthians 13:1)