Friday, December 31, 2021

The Disability Blogger Weekend Link-up: Happpppy New Year


What to do if you're new  

This is a place to share a recent favorite post you've written or read. Scroll all the way down to the bottom of this post. Where it says "Your name" put the name of the blog followed by the title of the post you want to share (or just the name of the post, if there's no room—you get 80 characters).

Like this: What we've lost, what we still have

Where it says "Your URL" put the direct link to the post.

Click "Enter." Leave a comment if you want to say more. Go check out some great posts.

Tuesday, December 28, 2021

Is it OK if your child with disabilities doesn't have homework?

This guest post is by Jane Kim, a writer and mom of a nine-year-old with autism. She works in the field of immigration and lives with her family in the Philadelphia suburbs.

The subject of homework is way more controversial than when I grew up, when it was a given. These days, not every expert agrees it's necessary or even always beneficial. As is always the case, it can depend on your child's needs. Max is in his fourth year of high school and still benefits from having some, since he learns by repetition. Read on for Jane's take.

My son is in third grade and is at a new school for children with learning differences. Homework is optional. Should I embrace that?

At curriculum night, when his teacher first announced that homework was optional, my body and mind had different reactions. My shoulders dropped and I let out a long exhale. My jaw suddenly felt more relaxed. One less thing to stress about! Within nanoseconds, though, my mind caught up. No homework? How absurd! As a law school graduate and person with a career, all I’d ever known was homework. Opting for no homework felt a bit like a betrayal of my past, a nonrecognition of the countless hours spent as a child and young adult that shaped me and helped me become the best version of myself…right? 

Way before my son, T, understood the concept of homework, I was given homework by his therapists and physicians. As a baby, he was very quiet, and met most milestones shakily. To encourage receptive and expressive language, the speech therapist recommended I narrate my actions. At the grocery store, I’d point out the different fruits and vegetables and chat about ingredients needed for dinner. For OT, I was to promote bilateral coordination activities such as cutting with scissors and catching a ball with both hands. 

T also struggled with typical play, so we hired a play therapist to join his team. She would send home a large plastic bin of manipulatives and various games to play which were swapped out for new games when he got the hang of certain ones. 

He was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) when he was around 3 years old, and his already tight schedule ramped-up with Applied Behavioral Analysis (ABA) therapy. When your child has an ASD diagnosis, parents are given oppressive amounts of things to do (i.e. medical evaluations, obtaining services, identifying the best ABA program for your child’s needs, finding providers, the list goes on) well before homework from school begins. For ABA to be the most effective, parents and caregivers need to be trained on ABA techniques and be actively involved in determining and tweaking goals for their child. I often felt as if I was racing against time, and losing badly.   

In first grade, when T started getting homework, it felt incredibly haphazard and disjointed. My expectation of his homework was an opportunity for him to recall what he learned at school that day, do it (mostly) on his own and build some sense of pride and a love of learning. Boy was I wrong! Often, it was as if he was seeing the material for the first time. Other times, he could partially complete the homework, but needed my assistance to complete the rest. I began to dread homework time, as did T. It was stressful for the both of us, and over a two-year period, we never got into a rhythm. 

T grew to resent and fear homework. At the time, for a child that was not at all vocal about his preferences, he would ask, “Friday we have no homework, right?” When I answered yes, he’d respond with “Yay!” With T starting a new school as a third grader, I wanted to look at homework with fresh eyes and see if it made sense for him now that it was optional.

After doing some research, it turns out–unsurprisingly–there are two camps when it comes to the quantity and the type of homework. The first camp endorses 10 minutes per grade level, and up to 2 hours a night for high-school students, which correlates with good, standardized test scores. The second camp believes homework doesn’t help (at least the homework typically given in our schools). It also questions standardized testing as an accurate measure of achievement. Do good test scores equate to intelligence, and therefore professional and personal success? 

As an average test taker, I wasn’t convinced. But it’s incredibly hard to deviate from your own personal experiences. I filled my older sister in on my dilemma, a person I share the most common history with, hoping she would have a deep conviction that would sway me. She didn’t, which surprised me. Instead, she told me different kids had different needs. I spoke with T’s teacher about it. She pointed out that he’s in a small class and is getting as much individualized attention as he can - with the benefits of a group setting. The kids work hard during the day and can’t get away with much, due to the small class size. That’s when I decided against homework in the typical sense. 

These days, we rarely do worksheets (with the exception of writing practice) as T benefits from repetition in this area. There are always opportunities to learn, whether it’s preparing a simple recipe or measuring ingredients, setting up a board game to play, reading poems and/or listening to songs and then interpreting the meaning. 

Generally, I follow his lead when it comes to his interests and find an activity that engages him. Sometimes there are neighborhood scavenger hunts. Math is challenging for T, so his teacher sends home individualized math activities of concepts they are working on. And if all else fails, there’s 20 minutes of reading anything, incorporated into a reading log. With winter break here, we plan on playing card games, reading a book on Martin Luther King Jr., making holiday snacks and writing a wish list on places to visit in 2022 (and then perhaps explore them by video).  

In making this decision (for now), I asked myself the following questions: Who is my child? How does he learn best? What’s the worst that can happen?  I’m getting more comfortable with the idea of no homework. And in that process, I learned a bit about myself: As a parent, what has worked for me may not be the best for him—and it’s my job to learn what’s best for his social, emotional and academic well-being. With every passing year, he teaches me more and more. 

Find Jane on Twitter @JKimRites.

Saturday, December 25, 2021

The Disability Blogger Weekend Link-up: Happy Holidays!


What to do if you're new  

This is a place to share a recent favorite post you've written or read. Scroll all the way down to the bottom of this post. Where it says "Your name" put the name of the blog followed by the title of the post you want to share (or just the name of the post, if there's no room—you get 80 characters).

Like this: What we've lost, what we still have

Where it says "Your URL" put the direct link to the post.

Click "Enter." Leave a comment if you want to say more. Go check out some great posts.

Friday, December 24, 2021

What we've lost, what we still have

The other day, I served lunch at Ben's school. I've been waiting six years to do this. Once Sabrina left for middle school, there was no more doling out pizza and spying on her interacting with her friends. But now Ben's in kindergarten and finally, they let in parents to help with lunch. 

I had a vision of hordes of kids gathered in the lunchroom as I walked in for my shift. But when I arrived, it was sadly and eerily empty. The volunteers' job was to place delivered sandwiches and chips in bags and walk them over to classrooms. 

I stood in the giant room and looked around. In my head, I could hear the loud, happy chatter of kids. I could picture Sabrina sitting and giggling with her friends and how happy she was to see me back in the day when she used to be happy to see me. I remembered the kids who'd come up to the serving station and ask for an extra slice of pizza or fries. Only Ben wasn't having that experience; all the kids eat outdoors now. I had to duck out into the hallway and take a walk because tears welled up. 

The last couple of weeks have been sobering. Yes, Omricon Omricon Omricon, but also because I've been confronting what my children are missing out on. Last week, I had a chat with Max's assistant principal and the lovely person who oversees the work experience program at his school. Max has been working at a church since October, putting together gift bags for new moms and doing other tasks. The word from the job coach is, he does a great job and is super-social.   

This may be the only real work experience Max gets for the school year; there are way fewer companies and businesses offering opps to his school. Some places have closed. Some are wary of letting in outsiders, or lack the resources. I expressed my concerns, but the school has no answers to give. They are doing their best, supplementing Max's experience with a workshop at school in which students do office-related tasks, make deliveries in the building and complete jobs from businesses (say, stuffing envelopes). I was told to see whether there might be volunteer work Max could do in the community.

I mused out loud about working my network to see if I could find a weekend job for him. I ached inside about the job experiences he's missed out on this year and last. I ached about the social events he hasn't had—the dances at school, the get-togethers with students from other schools, school sleepovers (they used to be offered a couple of times a year) and various trips. Ben and Sabrina have also missed out on school events and other activities, but for Max, school has long been his main source of socializing. 

I grabbed a big tote bag of sandwiches for the kindergarten classes and headed to Ben's room. Along the way, I passed a wall of photos of students and my immediate reaction was, "Eeep, no masks!" It's this pandemic habit I've developed; if I'm watching TV and there's a party or social gathering, my first reaction is: They're not masked, it's not safe! I stood in the doorway of Ben's class until he saw me and his whole face lit up and my whole heart filled up. I walked them out, distributed the sandwiches and crouched down next to Ben.

"Can you come next week too?" was the first question out of his mouth.

"I want my Daddy to serve lunch with you next week!" a little girl announced. 

I watched the kids happily munch their sandwiches. I listened to their chitchat. It was just a row of them, socially distanced, and they all seemed perfectly content. "I'm so excited that you're here!" he said.

It was total lunch mom satisfaction and total lunch mom therapy.

I mean, isn't that the best cure for the Covid blues—counting your blessings and oaking up your children's smiles and sweetness and love (er, when you aren't squabbling because you've been holed up together for far too l).

For sure, gratitude hasn't always come easy in the last two years. Once, I wrote a whole article about it for Health Magazine when I worked there. I learned some good tips then fell out of practice, although I've occasionally forced myself to consider how relatively lucky we and our circumstances are.

Max's lack of work experience may not be lucky, but he's learning the"soft skills" needed for employment—listening and focusing, responding to requests, following directions, using your manners, telling everyone you're moving to Los Angeles. Oh, wait. And if I know anything about raising a child with disabilities, sometimes you have to make your own luck happen. Come January, I'm going to try and figure out some other work opp for him. My biggest challenge may be that he'll insist on doing it in Los Angeles, his fantasy home. 

My children's lack of socialization isn't at all lucky, either. Winter's not going to make it easy to hang inside with friends and there's a real risk of schools going virtual again. But when I work it through in my head, we just have to hang in there till March-ish, when we'll all head outside again. 

I've more or less accepted that we could all get Covid. That's a worry technique I've picked up through the years: You imagine a worst-case scenario, then you work it through in your head and come to terms with it. It's mostly scary to think of for Max, whose cerebral palsy poses risks unknown. But I trust in the science. I believe in the efficacy of vaccines to reduce the worst symptoms. And I believe in the power of family and love. 

Happy Holidays to you and yours.

xo

Saturday, December 18, 2021

The Disability Blogger Weekend Link-up is back


What to do if you're new  

This is a place to share a recent favorite post you've written or read. Scroll all the way down to the bottom of this post. Where it says "Your name" put the name of the blog followed by the title of the post you want to share (or just the name of the post, if there's no room—you get 80 characters).

Like this: Great holiday gifts for kids and teens with disabilities

Where it says "Your URL" put the direct link to the post.

Click "Enter." Leave a comment if you want to say more. Go check out some great posts.

Friday, December 10, 2021

All I ever wanted for him

When Max was little and people would say "As long as he's happy," I'd bristle. Because I wanted so much more for Max. I wanted him to achieve his physical capabilities, whatever they might be. I wanted him to be able to express himself with sounds, words or whatever worked for him. I wanted him to learn to read and write. I wanted him to have friendships. I wanted him to gain independence. I wanted All The Things. 

Last Saturday night—a week before Max's 19th birthday—All The Things were clear to see. 

We were at the bar mitzvah of my friend Lisa's son. (Congrats, Jonah!) Earlier that day, Max had sat through the morning service. A couple of times, when he knew prayers, he'd approached the podium to say them with Jonah. That afternoon, Dave and I headed out of the hotel for some pampering pedicures while Max took a walk around a nearby lake with a group of my friends.  

At the party that evening, when Jonah made his big entrance, Max clapped wildly. He hung out with me and Dave for a little, pointing out on his watch the weather in Los Angeles and telling guests about his plans to move there. Soon enough, Max decided that he wasn't going to sit with us. He wanted to be at the teen table, and he wanted my friend Lyla's cute daughter, G, with him. Off they went.  

Dave and I chatted with people at our table. We took pictures in the photo booth. When the plates of steak and salmon were served, I cut up the food into bite-sized pieces and delivered it to Max. From across the room, I watched him and G eating, side by side. When she got up, Max—ever the enthusiastic eater—continued to shovel down food on his own. At some point, he asked her to go to the photo booth with him.

Throughout the night, Max was on the dance floor. A couple of other moms grooved with him on occasion. He joined other young guests in a game of musical chairs. Mostly he was on his own, having a blast.

I watched him dance from our table, Stalker Mom that I am. I'd already been feeling sentimental about his upcoming birthday, and I totally welled up. When Max was a tot, I couldn't have ever imagined a scene in which he was roaming around on his own, eating independently, making new friends, conversing with people, dancing and doing his own thing separate and apart from me and Dave.

And we were there to help, as needed. And friends were there to help, as needed. And Max knew how to ask for help, if needed.

And there he was on the dance floor, freely moving his body with a smile as bright as the DJ's lights.

And it was all I ever wanted for him. 

Saturday, December 4, 2021

The Disability Blogger Weekend Link-up is getting in the spirit


What to do if you're new  

This is a place to share a recent favorite post you've written or read. Scroll all the way down to the bottom of this post. Where it says "Your name" put the name of the blog followed by the title of the post you want to share (or just the name of the post, if there's no room—you get 80 characters).

Like this: Great holiday gifts for kids and teens with disabilities

Where it says "Your URL" put the direct link to the post.

Click "Enter." Leave a comment if you want to say more. Go check out some great posts.