Thursday, July 14, 2011
Captain Underpants saves the day...
If you have a child who always hated school, watch this. And try not to cry...
Sunday, July 3, 2011
I like who I am because of you
Lord, Lord...we waited 13 years for you. The only thing I ever wanted to be was a mother. I know it breaks your heart at times when you think of being adopted. That's the only thing that makes me sad about it.
And when you were young, the label of PDD hurt. I was into licking my own wounds, but somehow still had the oomph to give you what I thought you might need. I studied, read more books than I had in the previous 40 years in one, checked out over 7000 Pub-med documents, and understood maybe 2. Although you hadn't changed, I was drawn to. It helped me deal with the sadness. I lived in a stupor, overwhelmed with sadness at the thought I did this to you by my own inadequacy. I lost patience with you, as if you were choosing to be this way. I sucked as a parent.
We prayed for you at church. About the time I lost my religion I began to forgive you (idiotic, isn't it?) and prayed for myself I would grow up to be who you needed.
Do all parents go through this great awakening?
Slowly, slowly I began to see this extraordinary human being. You give me a belly laugh at least once a day, bring tears to my eyes because my stomach hurts so bad. It's like when you told the doctor, "Mom says she'd kill me if she wasn't laughing." I was ashamed, but it was true!
Everything that is good in me I owe to you. Thank you for being a part of my life.
May God bless and keep you always...
And when you were young, the label of PDD hurt. I was into licking my own wounds, but somehow still had the oomph to give you what I thought you might need. I studied, read more books than I had in the previous 40 years in one, checked out over 7000 Pub-med documents, and understood maybe 2. Although you hadn't changed, I was drawn to. It helped me deal with the sadness. I lived in a stupor, overwhelmed with sadness at the thought I did this to you by my own inadequacy. I lost patience with you, as if you were choosing to be this way. I sucked as a parent.
We prayed for you at church. About the time I lost my religion I began to forgive you (idiotic, isn't it?) and prayed for myself I would grow up to be who you needed.
Do all parents go through this great awakening?
Slowly, slowly I began to see this extraordinary human being. You give me a belly laugh at least once a day, bring tears to my eyes because my stomach hurts so bad. It's like when you told the doctor, "Mom says she'd kill me if she wasn't laughing." I was ashamed, but it was true!
Everything that is good in me I owe to you. Thank you for being a part of my life.
May God bless and keep you always...
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Mind blindness versus Empathy
I wanted to find a key. I can't be as descriptive as Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg, nor as poetic as Nicole Nicholson. These are two grand works of two great minds. They are fighting fire with fire. I am much more simple-minded. I fart in Dr. Baron-Cohen's general direction
But I want to contribute, truly,because I have been thinking for weeks the evil Baron Cohen is going to wreak on parents in the new found way to blame them, and children who have tremendous misunderstanding to deal with, now with the insult of being labelled in a book about evil by a man who is supposed to be on their side.
Initially, I looked up empathy in the dictionary. I was thinking the autistic equivalent was compassion. It was interesting, but led nowhere.
Strangely, the thought occurred: What is the opposite of empathy? In fact, I googled "opposite of empathy", and this was the fourth entry http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mind-blindness According to google, one definition of a-empathy is mind blindness.
That's interesting, isn't it? A man who is looked upon in some eyes as a great authority in autism, makes up the tests that decide who is autistic. He makes up the science, and then picks the science to agree with that he's made up. He even makes up the definition of the words. We are being subjected to one man's own little world, totally made up in his own mind.
He's like his cousin, Sasha Baron Cohen, who makes up a character and then films real people's reaction to his character. Simon pretends he is an authority in all things autism, and then makes up the science, and basks in the reaction to the dimwits who believe him. It has to be a familial thing. Perhaps it is genetic. Or maybe environmental. Wikepedia says of Sasha:
Perhaps Simon is doing the same for autistics. It's quite an act, I've got to admit....
I am not a great scientist, or poet, or philosopher, comedian, or even necessarily a good person. But my daddy taught me how to call bullsh*t.
I call bullsh*t on Dr. Baron-Cohen.
But I want to contribute, truly,because I have been thinking for weeks the evil Baron Cohen is going to wreak on parents in the new found way to blame them, and children who have tremendous misunderstanding to deal with, now with the insult of being labelled in a book about evil by a man who is supposed to be on their side.
Initially, I looked up empathy in the dictionary. I was thinking the autistic equivalent was compassion. It was interesting, but led nowhere.
Strangely, the thought occurred: What is the opposite of empathy? In fact, I googled "opposite of empathy", and this was the fourth entry http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mind-blindness According to google, one definition of a-empathy is mind blindness.
That's interesting, isn't it? A man who is looked upon in some eyes as a great authority in autism, makes up the tests that decide who is autistic. He makes up the science, and then picks the science to agree with that he's made up. He even makes up the definition of the words. We are being subjected to one man's own little world, totally made up in his own mind.
He's like his cousin, Sasha Baron Cohen, who makes up a character and then films real people's reaction to his character. Simon pretends he is an authority in all things autism, and then makes up the science, and basks in the reaction to the dimwits who believe him. It has to be a familial thing. Perhaps it is genetic. Or maybe environmental. Wikepedia says of Sasha:
In his routines, Baron Cohen's characters interact with unsuspecting people who do not realize they are being set up for comic situations and self-revealing ridicule.
Perhaps Simon is doing the same for autistics. It's quite an act, I've got to admit....
I am not a great scientist, or poet, or philosopher, comedian, or even necessarily a good person. But my daddy taught me how to call bullsh*t.
I call bullsh*t on Dr. Baron-Cohen.
Friday, July 1, 2011
The day I feared finally came...and I rejoiced!
I chose the title carefully. I don't want pity.
Probably about 5 years ago my mom received a diagnosis of Alzheimer's. She was a mess at my father's funeral 2 years ago. I was scared and thought she'd be in a home soon. She was so mixed up! This was not the mother I knew, but being away most of my adult life, I think it was the change that was shocking. Having worked in a nursing home, I knew what Alzheimer's could look like, in the end. My biggest fear was that she would forget my name. I realize now just what a selfish fear that was. Let me explain.
They call it the long goodbye. Mom began complaining after a surgery on her gall bladder that her mind was leaving her. She was forgetting little things. Words wouldn't come to her. We all consoled her and pretty much told her she was crazy, we were all that way, and she was doing well for her age. We are talking a woman who ran a restaurant, and later was the major go-to gal at church. When she finally got to see the pope, Dad joked that in the crowd they said, "Well, I see Adella there, but whose the guy in the dress standing next to her?"
She chaired a yearly function where over 2000 people were fed barbecue and money-making booths for the church were set up for about 20 years. She fed the 200 priests at a yearly get-together which was held in our home town mainly for her cooking. She fed, clothed, and loved 10 children., who had 10 spouses and something like 60 kids and grand kids and remembered each individual at Christmas.
She had, as she used to say, a good mind. She still does. She uses the same brilliance she once had (although she was a very simple woman by design) to keep fighting the good fight that is slowly taking away her ability to recall words. She had to go down a list to pick out my name. Luckily, she can still read and write, but she can't recall our names on demand.
But I'll be damned if she doesn't recall who we are. She always asks, "How's your boy and your husband?" She can't remember where we live or our names or our phone number, but she recalls our essence. Do you know what I'm saying? She is still my mama. She still has that beautiful, soft, encouraging voice. She still laughs the same.
Though much is taken, much abides.
I don't want to lose her!! Ben is grieving who she was, I think, and feels she might be better off, well, you know. I'm so far from that now. I don't know how or where or why it changed, but I love who she is now as much as I loved who she was in better days. And I loved her fiercely. She is a great mentor.
Somebody tweeted a great NYTimes video. It makes me think of mama. A man,Jack Agüeros, was once a great poet, thinker. His children rejoice in who he is. He is still a magnificent man. Can you see it?
Probably about 5 years ago my mom received a diagnosis of Alzheimer's. She was a mess at my father's funeral 2 years ago. I was scared and thought she'd be in a home soon. She was so mixed up! This was not the mother I knew, but being away most of my adult life, I think it was the change that was shocking. Having worked in a nursing home, I knew what Alzheimer's could look like, in the end. My biggest fear was that she would forget my name. I realize now just what a selfish fear that was. Let me explain.
They call it the long goodbye. Mom began complaining after a surgery on her gall bladder that her mind was leaving her. She was forgetting little things. Words wouldn't come to her. We all consoled her and pretty much told her she was crazy, we were all that way, and she was doing well for her age. We are talking a woman who ran a restaurant, and later was the major go-to gal at church. When she finally got to see the pope, Dad joked that in the crowd they said, "Well, I see Adella there, but whose the guy in the dress standing next to her?"
She chaired a yearly function where over 2000 people were fed barbecue and money-making booths for the church were set up for about 20 years. She fed the 200 priests at a yearly get-together which was held in our home town mainly for her cooking. She fed, clothed, and loved 10 children., who had 10 spouses and something like 60 kids and grand kids and remembered each individual at Christmas.
She had, as she used to say, a good mind. She still does. She uses the same brilliance she once had (although she was a very simple woman by design) to keep fighting the good fight that is slowly taking away her ability to recall words. She had to go down a list to pick out my name. Luckily, she can still read and write, but she can't recall our names on demand.
But I'll be damned if she doesn't recall who we are. She always asks, "How's your boy and your husband?" She can't remember where we live or our names or our phone number, but she recalls our essence. Do you know what I'm saying? She is still my mama. She still has that beautiful, soft, encouraging voice. She still laughs the same.
Though much is taken, much abides.
I don't want to lose her!! Ben is grieving who she was, I think, and feels she might be better off, well, you know. I'm so far from that now. I don't know how or where or why it changed, but I love who she is now as much as I loved who she was in better days. And I loved her fiercely. She is a great mentor.
Somebody tweeted a great NYTimes video. It makes me think of mama. A man,Jack Agüeros, was once a great poet, thinker. His children rejoice in who he is. He is still a magnificent man. Can you see it?
Do you see?
Sally Gardner, possibly a nom de plume, is a writer. I know her from twitter where nearly every day she gives a link to build up the gentle heart of dyslexics like herself. People who are different, not defective.
Miss Gardner gave a link to a you-tube video. I found the second part, which was even more amazing. (Please watch both. You will see true genius. I see my son. No longer mentally ill, because I don't like that moniker...so I decide life is what I make it, even if it is within a silly old woman's mind. LOOK AT THESE EXTRAORDINARY CHILDREN. LOOK AT THE CHILDREN. WHY CANT THIS BE DONE FOR AUTISM? )
There is no difference between dyslexia and autism. At least in my son. I think his birth father probably suffered from dyslexia. Many children suffer. Mainly because of how they are treated. I truly hope my son excels because of it. It's all in the mind's eye.
Miss Gardner gave a link to a you-tube video. I found the second part, which was even more amazing. (Please watch both. You will see true genius. I see my son. No longer mentally ill, because I don't like that moniker...so I decide life is what I make it, even if it is within a silly old woman's mind. LOOK AT THESE EXTRAORDINARY CHILDREN. LOOK AT THE CHILDREN. WHY CANT THIS BE DONE FOR AUTISM? )
There is no difference between dyslexia and autism. At least in my son. I think his birth father probably suffered from dyslexia. Many children suffer. Mainly because of how they are treated. I truly hope my son excels because of it. It's all in the mind's eye.
"Two men look out the same prison bars; one sees mud and the other stars.” Frederick Langbridge
Amazingly coincidentally...Uta Frith posted a tweet regarding dyslexia 20 seconds after I thanked Sally Gardner.
It regarded a study. About the defects in the dyslexic brain. Ugh...here's a taste:
Abstract Top
DCDC2 is one of the candidate susceptibility genes for dyslexia. It belongs to the superfamily of doublecortin domain containing proteins that bind to microtubules, and it has been shown to be involved in neuronal migration. We show that the Dcdc2 protein localizes to the primary cilium in primary rat hippocampal neurons and that it can be found within close proximity to the ciliary kinesin-2 subunit Kif3a. Overexpression of DCDC2 increases ciliary length and activates Shh signaling, whereas downregulation of Dcdc2 expression enhances Wnt signaling, consistent with a functional role in ciliary signaling. Moreover, DCDC2 overexpression in C. elegans causes an abnormal neuronal phenotype that can only be seen in ciliated neurons. Together our results suggest a potential role for DCDC2 in the structure and function of primary cilia.
Coincidence? Maybe...
I've been mulling it over in my mind, my distaste for the very science that used to account for my deepest thoughts. It now seems so shallow...because it harms the very soul of my son, where art proclaims it.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
We are so blessed!
We are so blessed to know so many beautiful people.
Daddy taught home school kids at the National Archives in Atlanta. In the two years, we have come to know exceptional children and parents. Many, possibly even a majority of the parents have an education background, and have been or could be public school teachers. We also have another commonality, but nobody talks about it freely. It's not that it's a source of shame, it's just that it's a truth:
Our children are not labels.
God love these kids, they are spectacular. We got all types, Aspies, Dyslexia, and most are GIFTED, in one way or another. School isn't all about grades or sports or being popular, but about using your talents. It's cool. So are they! AND THEY ARE KIND, the best social skill of all.
We went to a play one of the students performed in.
See the young woman, bottom row, second from left? She had 4 parts in the rendition of Julius Cesar by this wonderful group of teens at the Shakespeare Tavern in Atlanta, Georgia. It was one of the most memorable plays I have ever seen. She is 15 years old. She will be attending college this year.
She will be playing with the Indigo Girls next month. Did ya hear that? SHE WILL BE AN OPENING ACT FOR THE INDIGO GIRLS in July. They happen to be from Georgia, near where she is from. Her folks have an inside to the "thee-a-terrr" crowd because Dad was a thespian in college.
She's just one of the amazing people we know whose parents believed in them when others might have allowed them to be ostracized. Some kids are just too cool for school. She was just too smart and talented. She is an actress and a folk singer at age 15. Homeschool...ROCKS!!
She is the tiniest thing...but she has a big presence onstage. I've no doubt my Benibar will be just as amazing in his own time. How cool we got to know Miss E!
AND HERE THEY ARE!!!!!!!!!!
You are never too old to learn
Dyslexia is one of my child's differences. He is 17 years old and can't write his name. This is a story of a school in England that uses multisensory teaching for children with dyslexia. In it, I've come across a possible remedy to that. Writing, it seems, is a motor learning, not visual as I have tried to teach it.
Recently, Ben was very ashamed to write his name for the ID he had to obtain for attending Tech school this summer. It took him 10 minutes, because he kept starting over again. He had to look at my representation that I wrote out for him to even begin. Maybe he had no "motor memory" of it, and had always depended on visual cues (i.e., he could not write it without copying from an example.)
He was so proud of this signature he made one day. I think it was a bit much, though, don't you? It was a much more gratifying one, though, I'm sure. I copied it in reverse colors, to better see the detail. Wouldn't it be cool to get one of those signature stamps? I've just gotten an idea.......
Here is the film, brought to my attention by Sally Gardner, an author of children's stories who is dyslexic herself. She has the MOST uplifting and informative tweets. I wouldn't trade what she has taught me for the world. She loves our kids. She sees their gifts, and not their differences. Notice in the story how beautiful, yet gentle the kids are. They have not been taught they are defective. They are grateful to those who teach them the way they learn. The most important thing is that they do learn, and can grow to contribute, not be ashamed of themselves.
The beautiful boy who starts the piece, and learns multisensorily is thankful to his teacher. I absolutely am in love with him.
I wish I had been much more gentle to Ben. I didn't know.
Find more videos like this on Dyslexic Advantage
Recently, Ben was very ashamed to write his name for the ID he had to obtain for attending Tech school this summer. It took him 10 minutes, because he kept starting over again. He had to look at my representation that I wrote out for him to even begin. Maybe he had no "motor memory" of it, and had always depended on visual cues (i.e., he could not write it without copying from an example.)
He was so proud of this signature he made one day. I think it was a bit much, though, don't you? It was a much more gratifying one, though, I'm sure. I copied it in reverse colors, to better see the detail. Wouldn't it be cool to get one of those signature stamps? I've just gotten an idea.......
Here is the film, brought to my attention by Sally Gardner, an author of children's stories who is dyslexic herself. She has the MOST uplifting and informative tweets. I wouldn't trade what she has taught me for the world. She loves our kids. She sees their gifts, and not their differences. Notice in the story how beautiful, yet gentle the kids are. They have not been taught they are defective. They are grateful to those who teach them the way they learn. The most important thing is that they do learn, and can grow to contribute, not be ashamed of themselves.
The beautiful boy who starts the piece, and learns multisensorily is thankful to his teacher. I absolutely am in love with him.
I wish I had been much more gentle to Ben. I didn't know.
Find more videos like this on Dyslexic Advantage
Original Worlds-most-complicated-signature:
needed for signature stamp ;)
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