Awesome Guy

Jasper, Boy Therapist

He strolls up our walk whistling a tune and grabs the handle of one of the many glass doors along the front of our house.  As he enters, he tosses off his shoes and flashes a smile.  "Hi Jenny. Is Declan home?" "Sure Jasper," I answer, "you know where to find him."  He hops up the small set of stairs in our living area and turns the corner to the room where Declan is sitting at the computer researching American Idol.  Declan spends as much time as we allow watching youtube videos of American Idol auditions and performances from every season.  He is an expert.  His fascination, no, his obsession with American Idol is bittersweet. If you ask him, he will tell you the top three winners of every season, one through ten, first name and last. If you ask, he will tell you the song they sang for their auditions, for Hollywood week, and during the season if they made it. This reality TV is very real for him.  If we allow him to, he will go on about American Idol, asking us questions about who we think will win, who we think will be in this week's bottom three, and will listen carefully to our responses, tracking any signs of how his favorites will fare.  While we marvel at the remarkable gymnastics of his memory, we cringe at the perseverative behavior.  We love how happy it makes him, but fear what he misses as he ponders this week's results show.  

In comes Jasper, best friend, son of my friend, boy therapist. Jasper is the epitome of boy.  Day old shorts, Red Sox t-shirt, socks scruched down to his scruffy sneakers, tossled just-out-of-bed hair, and chock full of curiosity and adventure.  Every time he walks through our door he reminds me of one of the boys from the movie Stand By Me.  He is almost always emersed in one project or another, ready to take his pal Dec along if he'll come.  He knows that sometimes he will not succeed, but he nevers stops trying.  He knows that his friend will sometimes not have the background knowledge, but he doesn't care.  He knows that his friend may lose interest or resist certain activities, but he persists.  And often, he makes things happen.  He makes Declan inch toward what makes a boy a boy; he urges play with Legos, making cardboard swords and shields, flying paper airplanes, and talk about girls (even though he does not quite understand them nor particularly craves their company). Today, he is taking Declan for a walk through the wetlands in our backyard.  In his backpack, he has a flashlight, a compass, a swiss army knife, a box of matches, and a copy of A Boys Guide to Adventure.  "Come on Dec," he calls as he re-enters the room I am in and goes to put his shoes back on.  I am always surprised to see Declan emerge right behind him, searching for his own shoes (usually a pair of new crocs, ready to be lost or broken at any moment).  He secures his backpack and off they go into the woods.  We have been living here surrounded by trees for more than four years, yet it has never occurred or appealed to Declan to enter them.  But there they go into the woods with everything they will need for survival.  "Jasper," I call them back.  "Yeah?" he says.  "Pass over the matches dude." "Awww, " he says.  "Yup," I say, "I will keep them safe right here on my counter for when you return.  "Ok, but you'll be sorry if we get stuck and need them to stay alive." "Thanks, but I'll take my chances."

When they return, they are covered in dirt head to toe and laughing their heads off.  "Mom!" screams Declan.  "We were playing in the giant dirt pile where they're building the new house.  Jasper pretended to push me off and by accident, I actually fell!"  As he says this, I peek outside the back window at the monstrous size of the pile they are referring to and I try not to reveal the fear that racks my insides.  "Then Jasper caught my leg."  "Yeah," reports Jasper, "and I thought this is not good.  He's not going to be happy. I was holding on so tight to his foot and I was trying to pull him back up."  Little whimpers sneak out of me, disguised as supportive laughs.  "But then I looked down and I saw that Declan's shoulders were shaking and I knew everything was going to be okay!"  "What?" I finally betrayed some of the reservation and fear I was feeling. Shaking? Was he having a seizure? Was he hurt? Was he okay? "Yeah! His shoulders were shaking so I knew he was laughing!" Declan is standing next to him still laughing.  He is thrilled with himself and his adventure with Jasper.  My shackles drop and I remind myself again (again!) to trust experiences like these, allow for the danger, let go of some of the reins to his friend, who apparently is the only one who can teach Declan what it means to be a kid.  

As they track mud and dirt to the downstairs bathroom, as they walk out to the hose with a bar of Dove soap in their impossibly soiled hands, I think of the blatent metaphor that is throwing rocks at my me. Jasper pushed him, over edge even, but he survived. And not only did he survive, but like with every great therapist he has ever had, he blazed new, beautiful neurons from it.  Every boy like Declan needs a Jasper.

Sweet Sixteen

The phone rings and I can see before I reach for it that the call is coming from Declan's school.  Perhaps it is the school secretary calling to give us a date for the next parent meeting.  The next meeting we have is going to be a big one; we will have a lot of work to do to plan for a smooth transition to middle school.

Middle school.  The thought of it makes me break out in hives.  Of course, I am conjuring my own, awkward memories of middle school, but I am also drawing from Tova's days in that bastion of hormones, pimples, and social jockeying.  As soon as she was finished and entered high school, she seemed to have shed a burden like phoenix rising from the ashes.  The difference was palpable, as if she was free to be who she is and always was before the pressures of middle school sent her into hiding.  How, I think, will I get Declan through unscathed?

I pick up the phone and it is Sandra, the school nurse.  We are friends by way of a mutual friend, but also because we communicate so often about Declan.  He tends to use her office as a sanctuary; a place to go when things get too overwhelming.  Recently, he has also been reporting to her when he has unusual sensations in his head.  We are not certain if the short, unusual episodes he is having has anything to do with seizures, but we honor them to be certain for his next trip to the doctor. 

"Hi Jen," she says casually.  "I have Declan with me and he is having that feeling again."

"What is he saying?"

"He says that they're having a party in his head."  He is referring to perhaps intermittant flashing, sounds, or twinges, as if there really was a party going on.  Other times, when the sensations move from one part of his head to another, he says that they are "playing tag" up there.  His choice of words gives us a better understanding of what it must be like.

"Did he say anything else about it?" I asked

"Well," Sandra said, "I asked him if he could be more descriptive about the party, and after some thought, he said it could be a sweet sixteen."

We laugh at statements like these.  In fact, I ask Sandra if we had ruled out anniversaries and bar mitzvahs.  It is the ernestness with which he shares his very literal answers that make communicating with him so fascinating and charming.  His intentions are pure and his trust is without any reserve. But I am conflicted.  I know that middle school is rapidly approaching, and despite our best efforts to prepare him, these beautiful moments may well be the same ones that eventually hurt him.

 

 

 

The Dunderheads

 

Their nasty teacher, Miss Breakbone, who conjures up images of Miss Trunchbull from Roald Dahl's Matilda, calls her class a "scraping-together of fiddling, twiddling, time-squandering, mind-wandering, doodling, dozing, don't-knowing dunderheads."  What she fails to understand is that the activities that her students drift to are in fact their great strengths.  The book flies in the face of the conventional notions of school intelligence and emphasizes how other kinds of smarts can actually be more valuable and functional in the real world.  In this case, the children put together their various talents in order to solve the real problem of getting back an item the evil teacher took away from Junkyard, the boy that is particularly adept at finding treasure in trash cans.  Another character, an expert with paper-clips, helps the team to scale a wall.  "I nodded at Clips.  His reading scores were low.  His math scores were worse.  But if they tested him for paper-clip chains...He opened his briefcase. 'Two eight-strand ten-footers, fisherman's weave, with grappling hooks.'"  The crowd of different-thinkers win in the end, as do the children that read this book.

Multiple Intelligence, a book by Dr. Howard Gardner that came out in 1983, describes the eight kinds of intelligences that people can possess, and discusses how schools and standardized tests still only test for two of the eight: verbal-linguistic and math-logical.  We all know the people in our lives, however, that did not ace school or the SAT's, that are in fact very successful in life.  Intelligence is defined by Gardner as:

• The ability to create an effective product or service that is valuable to one's culture
• A set of skills that enables an individual to solve problems encountered in life
• The potential for finding or creating solutions for problems, which enables a person to acquire new knowledge

I am grateful for authors like Paul Fleischman, author of The Dunderheads, who recognize and illustrate this idea in plain terms.  It's time.

Not the Right Classroom Setting? Think Again.

In my work to help implement inclusive co-teaching classrooms, teachers will often say to me about one child or another, "I just don't think this is the right classroom setting for him."  Every time, I ask them, "Why not?" It is very hard for most people to imagine how special needs can be met in a mainstream classroom.  While he does not provide all of the answers, Dan Habib takes the issue head-on in his remarkable movie, Including Samuel.  Below is a description of the film and a short trailer, both taken from the the website, http://www.includingsamuel.com/home.aspx:

Before his son Samuel was diagnosed with cerebral palsy, photojournalist Dan Habib rarely thought about the inclusion of people with disabilities. Now he thinks about inclusion every day. Shot and produced over four years, Habib’s award-winning documentary film, Including Samuel, chronicles the Habib family’s efforts to include Samuel in every facet of their lives. The film honestly portrays his family’s hopes and struggles as well as the experiences of four other individuals with disabilities and their families. Including Samuel is a highly personal, passionately photographed film that captures the cultural and systemic barriers to inclusion.

The film has been screened at universities, national conferences, public television stations and independent theatres across the country. Including Samuel has also been featured on NPR’s All Things Considered, Good Morning America, as well as in the Washington Post and the Boston Globe. The film won the Positive Images in Media award from TASH, an international group committed to the full inclusion of people with disabilities. It has also screened at the Sprout Film Festival at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Boston International Film Festival, the Ft. Lauderdale International Film Festival, the Moscow International Disability Film Festival and won the “Excellence Award” from Superfest International Film Festival in Berkeley, CA.

Mercy Corps, an international global aide agency, is translating the film into Arabic and will screen it throughout Iraq to support that country’s nascent disability rights movement. The film will be re-released on DVD in October, 2009, with audio description, extras and translations in multiple languages.

Everyone Gets What They Need

 

Fair is getting what you need. That's what Mom explained to me this morning.  She was telling me why she was getting Declan the H1N1 vaccine, but not me (which seems funny, because I'm the one who has gotten three week-long illnesses in the past year). It does sound extremely unfair when you hear it at first. But then she finished. She told me that experts say that only kids with chronic diseases should get the vaccine, so the virus doesn't "conflict" with their other sickness. Therefore explaining the concept of this whole post. Getting him alone the vaccine is fair because he needs to get it. I don't. Another example is all the sick days I've had this year. Every single one starts with a chorus of "It's not fairrrrrr! I wanna stay home from school, too!"s from Declan. But it is fair. Because I need to stay home so I don't get anyone sick. He doesn't need to, he's in perfect health. Get what I'm saying?

~Tova

Reading Dogs Help Children to Learn

“Reading” Dogs Help Children Learn

By lending an ear at story time

By Anita B. Stone

Reading is indeed fundamental, but for many, acquiring the skill is daunting. Fortunately, thanks to some innovative programs and cooperative dogs, the challenge is getting easier to meet. Across the nation, dogs are lending their ears, and thousands of children who need extra help with reading and interpersonal communication couldn’t be happier.

Imagine this scene, described by Brooklyn’s Good Dog Foundation founder and executive director, Rachel McPherson: “For each session, the dog and the child-tutor settle down onto a blanket-covered pad on the floor in a corner of the school media center or in the library. Either the dog picks out a book or the child selects a picture book, brings it to the dog, holds it flat and begins to read.”

Though the children believe they are teaching dogs to read, in fact, with the dog as a comfortable, attentive audience (and an occasional gentle assist from the dog’s adult volunteer partner), they are actually teaching themselves. As far as the child is concerned, however, reading is about the dog, not about the child. No pressure. No embarrassment. No humiliation.

Reading Education Assistance Dogs (READ) was among the first to use “reading dogs” in the classroom. Launched in November 1999 by Utah-based Intermountain Therapy Animals, the program was introduced in a Salt Lake City library (where it continues to be available to both children and adults), and a year later, successfully moved into the school system. READ dogs are trained, registered and certified therapy animals who serve as classroom reading tutors, assisting children with their quiet presence and helping them develop a love of reading. Currently, 1,300 therapy teams are working their magic in schools and libraries. “We were the first to put a model around the idea, to improve reading and communication skills and to build the love of books among children that will last forever. It is priceless to see the eager faces of enthusiasm of young children reading to their therapy dogs,” says Kathy Klotz, READ’s executive director.

This is a remarkable trend that is gaining speed throughout the country.  To read more of Anita's article, click on this link:

http://www.thebark.com/content/%E2%80%9Creading%E2%80%9D-dogs-help-children-learn

After reading it myself, I added "Read to Bruce" to Declan's after-school checklist.  It was much more inviting for him to see it as a service to our dog than practice for himself! 

Best Inclusion Practices

 
As an educator, I was determined to scour the city's schools for the best possible setting in which Declan could learn.  For many families whose child is struggling with seizures, this is an enormous hill to climb.  Many children with epilepsy have one or more developmental delays and/or learning issues, and req uire some form of support to reach their optimal potential.  I have learned so much along the way and would like to share what I have learned with you.  I will tell you the sinuous route we took with Declan in the hopes that you will get to where you need to go faster. 

When Declan entered preschool at the age of three, we managed to have his SEIT (Special Education Itinerant Teacher) from Early Intervention go with him for the entire school day.  This was an incredible arrangement, as Dec had his own special educator adapting the curriculum and encouraging language and social skills as the teachable moments presented themselves.  If we could have, we would have continued with a SEIT for his entire school career; but because it is a costly solution, the Board of Education was not willing to continue the service.  As a result, when Declan turned four, we chose to send him to a private center-based school.  The school was gorgeous, had all of the amenities, all of the therapists, and two teachers per classroom.  Declan had his worst year ever.  Why? We learned that he needed to be in a classroom with strong peer models.  In the center-based school, he was only with children with similar or more severe issues, and no one but the teachers were able to demonstrate strong social skills.  At the end of that year, we took him out and never looked back.  We knew from then on that we would never place him in a setting that did not have typically developing children to help Declan to see more typical academic and social behaviors.  When he was five, our argument was adequate for placing Declan back into a regular ed room, again with a full time SEIT.  It was not easy to get, but we pushed hard for it.  The decision paid off, and Declan had a much more successful year year.  Not only did he accomplish more academically, but he was able to have playdates with peers who could teach him a few things about play.  When it was time for kindergarten, however, we were back to square one.  We were no longer dealing with the CPSE; instead, it was the CSE we had to contend with, and they were very unlikely to allow a full time SEIT.  That is when we turned to a CTT classroom, and that is one of the main ideas I would like to leave with you today.  

CTT stands for Collaborative Team Teaching.  This is a classroom that has both a regular education and a special education teacher in the room full time, and approximately a third to a quarter of the students have IEP's.  The rest of the children are typically developing students.  This is the golden standard of inclusion practices right now, and it is tremendously effective.  Many people who hear about it for the first time are skeptical.  For instance, parents of a regular ed child placed in a CTT room might ask, "How will my child be challenged in such a classroom?"  And the parents of a child with special needs placed in a CTT room might say, "There is no way my child's needs can be met with so many different learners in one room."  I have been a parent and a consultant to these kinds of classrooms for many years, and I can safely say that by the end of the year, these parents are often the same ones we find actually requesting a CTT room for their children in subsequent years.  What they don't know and quickly learn is that the teachers in a co-teaching classroom become absolute masters of differentiation; that is, they are able to meet the needs of every child regardless of where they are because they have the resources and training to do so. Further, these rooms, given the nature of their diversity, end up having the kind of classroom community that neighboring classrooms come to envy.  I could go on talking about co-teaching for a very long time, and will talk about it again in the near future, but for now, take a look for yourself.  I suggest you visit the ASCD website.  ASCD is an organization that all good educators will know.  It's very role is to help advance best practices in educating every learner.  Here's the link:  http://www.ascd.org/

Siftables

When I attended the Eagle Hill Symposium last spring, I was taken with all of the ways in which the school was using technology in order to provide access to the curriculum for different learners.  As teachers, we need to find for our students the best way to get new information in, and then the best way for the students to get the information out in order to show us evidence of their learning.  Traditionally, this would be the teacher lecturing to some degree, then the students telling back what they have learned either orally or in writing.  But what about the child who has difficulty taking in spoken language (i.e. receptive language disability), the child who has difficulty organizing their thoughts (i.e. executive function issues), or the child who struggles with expressing their learning verbally (i.e. expressive language disability) or in writing (i.e. dysgraphia)? There are some remarkable tools out there that are emerging as technology gets more and more sophisticated.  Did you know, for instance, that a variety of over 50,000 books can be read to a student using the site bookshare.org? In this post, I wanted to get everyone's imaginative juices flowing with a very new technology that has not yet made it into the schools.  Just imagine what we might do for different learners with something like siftables.  Take a look at the video below: