Archive for the ‘Education’ Category

CONNECTION (The Rolling Stones – also Eddie & The Subtitles did a good cover)
September 26, 2018

I took a basic watsu training class this past weekend, spending the better part of Saturday and Sunday in a 95-degree shallow pool with five other women, who were also taking the course.  I didn’t know much about watsu, other than Cole’s aquatic therapist was also learning it and thought it would be useful for me to learn the basics, so I could use it to help stretch and relax Cole at home in our pool.  I love water, and I love learning new things – especially when it’s something that can help Cole.

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I nervously showed up Saturday and met the others.  Three were women who were already in the aquatic therapy business, wanting to expand their practices and knowledge, one was a mom, who is considering a watsu practice when her four kids are all in middle and high school, and me.  We were joined on Sunday by a woman who does energy work already and has already completed about her watsu training.

The first half hour we learned about watsu and its benefits.  Watsu is a form of aquatic therapy that combines muscle stretching, joint mobilization, and shiatsu massage.  It’s done in chest deep warm water, where the “receiver” is continuously supported by the “giver” (or therapist) while back-floating.  The receiver is rhythmically and passively cradled, moved, stretched and massaged by the giver and water.  Watsu promotes deep relaxation and, in my experience, euphoria.

After the basic introduction we all got in the pool and watched part of a training video, so we could see an actual practice.  Then we began learning the stance, moves and an understanding of the symbiosis of the process.  We worked in pairs throughout the day, switching between being the giver and the receiver and working on different bodies.  The better the giver can connect and adapt to each receiver (every body is different, not just in size but in flexibility and trust too) the better the experience will be.  By the end of the day we had learned the entire basic sequence and practiced each element over and over.  We all left feeling empowered and connected by the day.

Sunday we all reconvened and immediately got back in the pool.  We were joined by a woman who does energy work and has already completed about half her watsu training hours.  Having a sixth person allowed us to all work on our technique and practice with each other while our instructor could move through the pool and give us each more hands-on training and support.  We all gave and received three full hours of treatment that day.  It was amazing.  Unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

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There’s something almost spiritual in the practice of watsu.  The relationship between the giver and receiver and water is harmonious in a way that at times you feel at one.  Breath plays a part in watsu as it does yoga.  There are quiet times when the giver synchs their breath to the receiver and as one you rise and fall slightly in the water as you breathe.  There’s a deep sense of relaxation and rejuvenation resulting from the treatment and connectivity that transcends the treatment. I’m completely enthralled with watsu. I plan to take more training even if I don’t complete a program for certification.  I just want to be able to give Cole (and other family and friends) the best experience I can.

IT’S MY LIFE (Jon Bon Jovi)
September 19, 2018

Sometimes I marvel at the things I know about because Cole is my son.  While it’s now all old hat to us, we had an extra learning curve beyond simply being new parents, when he came into our world. We had all of the usual stuff and then all of the medical and therapeutic interventions to contend with, as well as quick introductions to agencies and supports and special education. And of course, random weird things that come into our life.

In case you don’t know, Cole is fed through a g-tube.  The only way we could leave the NICU, after five long weeks, was to have a g-tube inserted because he was not able to suck a bottle or boob.  We had hoped he would catch on when we got him home but seventeen years later he’s still tube fed.

Yesterday I was placing an order for his feeding supplies, which typically includes his formula, gravity flow bags and every other month a new mickey-button (the part that actually is inserted into his belly and held by a little tiny balloon that holds 5 cc’s of water).  I was asked what size, because they like to have you repeat every detail of the order, your contact details and lots of details about Cole EVERY time you call to place a monthly order to make sure you are who you say you are and are ordering supplies for who you say you are ordering supplies for – I’m assuming because there’s a huge black market demand for formula and mickey-buttons.  Anyway, I digress.  I give the size, 16 French, and it occurs to me that I would never know what that means if not for Cole.

Tubing, often catheters and feeding tubing, is designated by French or “Fr” to note the size of the tubing. It’s a French scale where every millimeter is multiplied by .33 (Fun Fact: The French are fond of the number “3” – I deal with withholding tax at work and the France to US withholding tax is 33.33%), so Cole’s tube is 16Fr multiplied by .33, making it 5.28 millimeters wide.  Pretty small.

In the years of parenting Cole, we have had to deal with some many different therapists, agencies, doctors and medical interventions.  He’s had surgeries and treatments that exposed us to so many new adventures.  When he was still small enough to be tucked in to a Baby Bjorn, he did acupuncture to help open his brain flow.  I’d wear him and spend the whole time trying to keep him from puncturing me once his head was full of needles!  He did botox in his hips and arms before it became mainstream for faces, he had his back and neck muscles supported with Japanese kinesio tape before it was available in the US, and now gets Watsu (aquatic Shiatsu) massage when he does aquatic therapy.  I’m actually going to take a two day Watsu training class next weekend so I can take advantage of our pool and support his aquatic therapy at home too.

Being his mom keeps me on my toes and keeps me expanding my knowledge and researching every little potential interest, development, resource, product, therapy, intervention that I hear about related to cerebral palsy, communication, inclusion, education, life as an adult with special needs, etc.  I’m sure I miss a lot but thankfully I have a community of moms who all do the same and we share.  It’s a unique experience that thankfully we share with a welcoming wonderful community of likewise unique families.

 

TALK TO ME (Chris Isaak)
September 15, 2018

Cole’s first junior year report card arrived yesterday.  Straight A’s. He’s fairly consistently receiving A’s and a very occasional B on his high school report cards and always with E’s, and is always proud of himself when the grades are revealed.  We are proud too, of course.  For Cole, the grades are both a mix of subjective grading, his effort, and his understanding of the given subject.  He has modified work and the benefit of one on one class time with his Special Ed (SpEd) teacher.  It doesn’t diminish the grades and is certainly reflective of the attention he puts forth in class.  He takes a fair amount of pride in maintaining his grades and in the attention he receives for doing so.

I just wish he put forth the same interest and effort in developing some of his communication skills and independence at home.  He would gain so much by engaging in conversation with people outside of school, including me and his dad.  He has friends who desperately want him to use his Tobii (eye gaze generated voice output device) to talk with them.  Teens, even understanding, kind hearted teems, don’t always welcome the parent invasion when they’re hanging out.  Having time with friends, independent of a parent or even of a support adult to help facilitate conversation, would be so incredible for him.  It’s such a valuable facet of friendship.

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I’ve gone so far as to suggest to some friends that they tell him that they won’t chat with him until he starts chatting with them using his Tobii.  His friends are too sweet to listen to me and continue to talk to him despite his aversion to the Tobii.  He met a girl this summer who is very similar to him in diagnosis and also uses a Tobii, though she is happily reliant upon it and uses it well and often. I’m told she pressed him to use it during summer school and he was slightly more receptive, which makes me hopeful that he with the right motivation he’ll warm to it.

I understand part of his reluctance, or disdain, for the device.  Cole’s a people person.  He’s very keen on eye contact and adept at communicating some of his needs and reactions through small sounds and various facial expressions and smiles.  The Tobii obstructs his direct view of people he’s “talking” with.  It’s also taxing to use, both physically and mentally, so an element of laziness factors in too, especially if he’s asked to use Tobii with his dad and I.  We’ve developed a strong understanding of him, but even with us there’s so much left to our interpretation.  He’s often just not bothered enough to be frustrated or care. I really wish he were.

I just want him to use his voice…to express his thoughts, opinions, and needs.  I want him to deepen his friendships by opening them up through mutual communication and the intimacy that comes from friends sharing. I want him to engage new people in conversation or to initiate conversation. I want him to show interest in other people by asking questions or simply saying “Hello” aloud.  I want him to expand upon his education by using his voice to express his knowledge and understanding.  I want all of these things for him…

If only he did…

HAPPY
July 17, 2017

Just found this unposted blog…Sort of relates to the one I just posted…

We’re now almost a month in and dare I say, high school is going well.  There were big bumps leading up to the first day, and a small one on the actual first day – the aide who was supposed to ride the bus with him didn’t show up in the morning so he rode alone with the driver until they picked up the next kid.  Apparently, not legal so we made the wrong decision in allowing him to go, but the aide did eventually catch up to him on the route and he arrived safely for his first day.

His schedule got sorted out and he even has a close friend from CHIME in one of his general education classes.  I think it’s helpful because having a typical, cute, volleyball team, girl chatting with you and laughing with you goes along way to inspiring other kids, kids who have not previously attended school with someone like you, to talk to you too.  He’s making friends, slowly, but it’s happening.

School friends…not necessarily the friends you do stuff with on the weekends.  That seems harder to navigate in high school, where parents are interacting in the same way and the community itself if much larger.  At this age, kids generally start to take charge of their social lives so for a kid like Cole, that becomes a bit more challenging without parental support and intervention.  We’ll see.

Overall, the school has shown a great interest in making sure he’s supported, challenged and engaged.  He really likes his main teacher, his special education teacher, who he has for several classes, and the general education teachers likewise are making efforts to ensure that he’s participating and part of their classroom community.  It’s really quite impressive.

All that said, and I’m really not complaining, but it’s still not exactly what was promised.  The LAUSD high school system is very different in terms of how it approaches kids like mine.  Inclusion is not a concept that is implemented at the high school level.  They mainstream, which is more a sink or swim concept, and where I’m thankful he’s at a school where the administration has more than a passing interest in inclusion more so than mainstreaming.

At the end of the day, this month has gone well.  He comes home tired, but happy.  He’s adjusting to the crazy schedule – being picked up at 6:10 am by the bus and returned to our door sometime before 5 pm at the end of each day.  Him happy, it’s all that matters.  The other stuff can work itself out.

 

 

 

 

Summertime Blues
July 17, 2017

I’m baaacccckkkk…

For better or worse, it’s been nearly a year since I added new posts to I Love Your Brain. I think about it often and I miss writing but these months have been charged with all sorts of new stresses and joys.

The most notable event of the “lost months” is that Cole started high school. He’s actually now successfully and happily completed his freshman year at a public LAUSD high school. He did well, enjoyed school, made friends (even had a girlfriend) and is now contentedly enjoying four weeks of summer school.

Filling nearly ten weeks of summer with two working parents is challenging, so we take activity where we can! Thankfully, he still loves school so summer school is a good, free option for part of summer.

The relief I feel about Cole liking his new high school and adapting to the new environment, teachers, schedule and transportation can’t be measured. The stress leading up to finding what we hoped would be the right school was immense for all of us. We’d been spoiled by CHIME. Cole had only known inclusion. How would this work at the high school level, in a school district that doesn’t practice inclusion at the high school level?

Interestingly enough, his school was open to allowing him to take some classes under general ed and some, including his home room under special ed. At first he really liked having his day split between the two, and he did well in all of his classes. He had support for the general ed classes through his special ed teacher and made some friends outside of the special ed class.

But somewhere midway through the year, he started to prefer his special education classes to the general education classes. He made more friends in that class and felt more comfortable and confident there. For the first time in his fifteen years he’s starting to identify more with kids who have disabilities or are more similarly abled to him. One hand it seems like a natural trend. High school is where most teens start to regroup and find their peeps.

On the other hand, it’s been harder for my husband and I to accept. We both recognize that it’s Cole’s choice and that his happiness is most important but in that way that most special needs parents have to let go of their own notions of what their child’s experience is supposed to look like and adapt to what it does look like, we have had to let go of the idea that having an inclusive education at this level is what’s best for Cole. It’s hard.

Despite the successful school year he’s had, it’s also come with a fair amount of loneliness. He’s made a lot of friends at school, kids he spends every school day with and some riding the bus to and from and school with (so spending roughly from 6:15am until 5pm together), but he doesn’t see these kids outside of school, except one movie date night earlier this summer.

Nor does he see much of his old friends. There are some kids who he was really close to at CHIME who he hasn’t seen since leaving CHIME. I understand it’s the ways things naturally go at this stage in their young lives, but I’m not sure how much he does. The reality is that there’s little intervention that I as a parent can offer. It breaks my heart.

Right now, I’m just hoping the rest of summer will pass quickly and that we can get back to routine of sophomore year, full school days. We’re in the process of building a swimming pool so next summer Cole will be able to enjoy his favorite activity any time he wants…swimming – in his own swimming pool in his own backyard! Hopefully it will provide some social opportunities for him too!

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HAPPY
September 15, 2016

We’re now almost a month in and dare I say, high school is going well. There were big bumps leading up to the first day, and a small one on the actual first day – the aide who was supposed to ride the bus with him didn’t show up in the morning so he rode alone with the driver until they picked up the next kid. Apparently, not legal so we made the wrong decision in allowing him to go, but the aide did eventually catch up to him on the route and he arrived safely for his first day.

His schedule got sorted out and he even has a close friend from CHIME in one of his general education classes. I think it’s helpful because having a typical, cute, volleyball team, girl chatting with you and laughing with you goes along way to inspiring other kids, kids who have not previously attended school with someone like you, to talk to you too. He’s making friends, slowly, but it’s happening.

School friends…not necessarily the friends you do stuff with on the weekends. That seems harder to navigate in high school, where parents are interacting in the same way and the community itself if much larger. At this age, kids generally start to take charge of their social lives so for a kid like Cole that becomes a bit more challenging without parental support and intervention. We’ll see.

Overall, the school has shown a great interest in making sure he’s supported, challenged and engaged. He really likes his main teacher, his special education teacher, who he has for several classes, and the general education teachers likewise are making efforts to ensure that he’s participating and part of their classroom community. It’s really quite impressive.

All that said, and I’m really not complaining, but it’s still not exactly what was promised. The LAUSD high school system is very different in terms of how it approaches kids like mine. Inclusion is not a concept that is implemented at the high school level. They mainstream, which is more a sink or swim concept, and where I’m thankful he’s at a school where the administration has more than a passing interest in inclusion more so than mainstreaming.

At the end of the day, this month has gone well. He comes home tired, but happy. He’s adjusting to the crazy schedule – being picked up at 6:10 am by the bus and returned to our door sometime before 5 pm at the end of each day. Him happy, it’s all that matters. The other stuff can work itself out.

LIAR
August 11, 2016

Reality bites…

We attended the freshman orientation with Cole this morning at his new high school. He starts school next Tuesday at a new school where inclusion means something entirely different than what we’ve experienced for the past fourteen years.

The school, and LAUSD, our school district, both seemed opened to having Cole attend this school, and touted the potential for him to do some of his classes in general education and some under the wing of special education. We worked it out as such in his IEP, painstakingly ensuring that he’d have plenty of opportunity to spend time with typical peers, as well as benefitting from the support needed for some subjects in special day class.

His schedule was hand delivered by one of his special ed teachers. First period – Jazz Ensemble. Um…What? That is supposed to be his elective, one of the courses he’d take in general setting. First off, he doesn’t play any instruments, nor is he physically capable of doing so. Secondly, Jazz Ensemble?

Apparently all of the other electives were full. That’s the explanation we received.

And it got worse from there. Jazz Ensemble is the only class he has in general education. Everything else in his day is in the special ed classroom. Again, what? This is not what was agreed upon and spelled out in his IEP. To this we received a “We’re not like CHIME. We can’t support him in class”.

Apparently the IEP means nothing.

He’s supposed to have a one to one support throughout the entire day. Someone who can tend to his personal needs, support his access to the curriculum and to the classroom, facilitate his social goals, and enable him to thrive in the school setting. Thus far, they haven’t hired, or found, this support person. We’re told they’ll be there Tuesday morning, ready to go.

Apparently without any training or understanding of Cole at all.

I knew high school was going to be different and that leaving CHIME would mean some changes in terms of the kind of support Cole would receive, but there seems to be little interest in ensuring that he receives the same kind of high school education and experience that his typical peers will have access to.

When they say no child left behind, they lie.

 

TAKE A CHANCE ON ME
February 23, 2016

The high school process continues. The great news is that Cole got into our top choice for him. The bad news is that the hard work is still ahead of us. The school he got into is an independent charter high school. It’s small, fully inclusive, and open to the challenge of having a diverse student body. It’s a performing arts charter but Cole was accepted to their liberal arts program.

They’ve never had a kid like him, but the reality is very few schools have. Cole’s unique beyond just his obvious challenges. I’m not sure where kids like Cole go to school but this process has shown me that very few schools are open to the unknown. Spectrum diagnoses are now apparently commonplace enough that they do not rattle most mainstream schools, and there are endless private options available to these kids.

The task of managing a child with physical needs is apparently more daunting to school administrations, than say some of the significant behavioral issues that can accompany many spectrum diagnoses. Add in the non-verbal component and he becomes even more so. The reality of a kid like Cole, who is by all accounts friendly, interested, cooperative, and bright in class, is that once people know how to manage his physical needs and to work with his technological accouterments (i.e. his Tobii), he’s a pretty easy kid.

Yes, he needs modifications for some of his schoolwork, and even the occasional accommodation, usually extra time, but even that isn’t terribly taxing. The big problem as I see it is that there just aren’t enough kids like Cole in general, and more pointedly, who want to be fully included. There aren’t even enough to motivate an innovative school or non-profit to start a specialized school for kids like him, as we’ve seen happen in the last decade or so for kids on the spectrum.

Neil Young started a very tiny school, which I believe emerged initially from a camp program that focuses on assistive technology for kids with cerebral palsy. It’s for younger kids, and handful at that, who can afford the private tuition. I’d love to send Cole to the camp to better his Tobii skills, and to perhaps help motivate him use it in social settings, and not just at school.

For Cole, whose only education experience has been in fully inclusive settings, and his only social group is a diverse pool of kids, mostly typical, the best, least restrictive setting for him is a high school that can provide the same. He’s motivated by peers and teachers who are seeing him, Cole, not the wheelchair, not the Tobii, just Cole, the boy.

Getting a school to take the chance of having him as part of their community is proving to be harder than anyone led us to think it would be. If the school of our choice can be convinced to take the leap and to go for it, the rewards of having a kid like him in their student body would be far greater than the accommodations and modifications that would be required to do so.

He brings something unique to the party and it happens everywhere he goes. I know I’m his mom, but I’ve seen it happen everywhere he goes. He has the ability to attract people, to make peers feel comfortable, cared for and important, and to make a lasting imprint on teachers and staff. He has countless checkout people at our regular haunts, and waitress staff at favorite restaurants that count on smiles from him and return them just as openly.

If he can continue his education at this school, he’ll find his place quickly, routines will become established, and life will go on, just slightly altered, and most certainly improved, by him being there.

Please!!!!  Take a chance on Cole!

SAY IT ISN’T SO
November 19, 2015

I toured a local high school this morning and then spent the hour drive to work trying my best not to cry.

We’ve spent most of Cole’s life fighting in one way or another for something or other. Very little comes easy in the lives of children with special needs, especially when you want your child to experience as typical a childhood as possible. We’ve never wanted Cole’s disabilities to prevent him from experiencing anything that interests him. He may have unique ways to approaching things, but we’ve been fairly successful in providing him with a fairly happy, rich, normal (ish) life.

It feels like it all comes to an end with high school. The tours tend to highlight all of the amazing academic and elective programs that each school offers and the opportunities for preparing for college and glowing futures. Fabulous programs are available to good to great students, but only those who do not have disabilities and may require support to access the curriculum. Students like Cole are relegated to special day classes where their opportunities are vastly limited.

Never mind that he’s managed to get through nine years of school with the same kids who will be advancing into high school programs where they have a world of exciting classes to choose from and clubs, electives and sports. If he were to attend the school that I toured today, he’d be left with access only to special day classes that are on the first level because the school is not wheelchair accessible (no functioning elevators in 2015!).

Physical space seems to a prevalent problem with most high schools. The desk spacing is so tight that there is barely room for a student to slide down a row to their seat, and definitely no chance for a wheelchair to fit beyond the doorway. How is that legal? There’s an obvious disinterest in any form of inclusion at most high schools.

My kid may not have the ability to complete high school in four years, however, that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have the ability to eventually complete it, and move on to college. I can’t say for certain what his future holds, but I can say that without the opportunity to have access to a decent education it won’t be as bright as it could be, as it should be.

But it doesn’t seem like anyone is even trying. So now, tears…I held back as long as I could.

FRUSTRATION
November 17, 2015

The high school search continues. (Screaming loudly in my head)

I have a tour this week, one right after Thanksgiving, and another two just before the winter holiday break.

In a crazy attempt to find a good school, I thought today, at the suggestion of a colleague, to try in my work district. We live in LAUSD (Los Angeles Unified School District) and I work in Beverly Hills, which has its own, fairly well funded, highly coveted school district, BHSD. I called to see if I could permit in since I work in the area and could be his primary transportation. A no go. They stopped accepting permits from outsiders, other than from actual City employees.

It was worth a shot.

The truth is, it probably wouldn’t have been better for Cole academically speaking anyway, but it would be in a safe neighborhood on a clean, accessible campus. Sadly we’re kind of down to those being highlights.

I’m touring our home school in a couple of week, if only to rule it out. After speaking to their special education counselor, I learned that the campus is accessible (“Yes, it has stairs”) and that it’s safe (“We have several police officers patrolling the campus, but we can’t control what goes on outside the gates”) so I’m feeling really confident about it. (Typed dripping with sarcasm, in case it didn’t translate in the writing). I’m having a really hard time mustering any enthusiasm for that tour!

I continue to be perplexed by how hard it is to find a decent placement for children with special needs, who want to attend typical school programs, but need some support either for their physical needs, or accessibility to the school work. Cole has only known inclusion. He’s been included since he was a year old. 80% of his friends are typical kids. He doesn’t understand that the world outside our little bubble isn’t as welcoming or accepting of people who are different. It’s starting to feel like a cruel joke. It feels a little like being thrown to the wolves.

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I don’t know what trumps a wolf, but I’m preparing for battle, and victory.