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| Good times at the Segerstrom! I'm standing to your right, in the maroon Missoula Children's Theatre shirt. |
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Arts: Avenues Group Photo
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Racecars and Fluid Dynamics (Week #9/10)
In Mathematics Instructional Methods, we explored nbclearn.com. Each of us selected a video to watch, related to the Summer 2012 Olympics. This website is interesting in that it provides a relatable way in for students seeking a connection between the world and science/math. I watched "Missy Franklin and Fluid Dynamics" which I found to be very interesting:
Missy Franklin and Fluid Dynamics
Missy Franklin and Fluid Dynamics
Monday, October 15, 2012
[Education] A Fabulous Link Page I Found!
• Council for Exceptional Children
http://www.cec.sped.or/am/template.cfm?section=Home
• Virginia Communication and Literacy Assessment (VCLA) and the Virginia
Reading Assessment (VRA) http://www.vra.nesinc.com
• National Reading Panel http://www.nationalreadingpanel.org Report of the
National Reading Panel: Teaching Children to Read (2000) phonemic
awareness, phonics instruction, fluency, vocabulary instruction, reading
comprehension)
http://www.nationalreadingpanel.org/Publications/publications.htm
• The Access Center http://www.k8accesscenter.org/index.php (reading
comprehension, fluency, mnemonics)
• Reading, Literacy, Language Arts http://www.iris.peabody.vanderbilt.edu
• RTI http://www.iris.peabody.vanderbilt.edu
• Assessment http://www.iris.peabody.vanderbilt.edu
• Content Instruction http://ww.iris.peabody.vanderbilt.edu
• Differentiated Instruction. InfoBriefs
http://www.iris.peabody.vanderbilt.edu
• IDEA Practices http://www.cec.sped.org/Content/NavigationMenu/PolicyAdvocacy/IDEAResources/
• Reading Rockets www.readingrockets.com
• Teaching LD www.teachingLD.org http://www.teadingld.org LD Resources.
Practice Alerts: 2, 8, 10, 12, 14, 15
• The International Dyslexia Association www.Interdys.org
• Council for Learning Disabilities www.cldinternational.org
• The Dynamic Indicators of Basic Early Literacy Skills (DIBLES)
http://dibles.uoregon.edu
• U.S. Department of Education www.ed.gov/index.jup click on education
resources
• LD Online http://www.ldonline.org/index.html
• International Reading Association http://www.reading.org
• The IRIS Center http://iris.peabody.vanderbilt.edu12
• National Institute for Literacy http://www.nifl.gov
• National Center on Response to Intervention http://www.rti4success.org
CBM modules
• National Center on Student Progress Monitoring
http://www.studentprogress.org
• University of Kansas Center for Research on Learning http://www.ku-crl.org
• Strategies for teaching reading
http://www.state.tn.us/education/ci/cistandards2001/la/cilarstratteachrea
d.htm
Sunday, October 14, 2012
[Grad Program Blog] Parenting an Exceptional Child
You have a preconceived notion of what your child will be like. You want your child to be perfect. You dream of the heights your child will achieve, and to the bright future you will enjoy together.
And then your child is born, with what you've heard called an exceptionality, and...you don't want to face it.
At about eighteen months, I suspected something was...different...about my baby boy. But I still did not want to face it, so I did nothing.
Nowadays, our family lives with a "no excuses" policy. I tell him that he may have been born with autism, that may have been the card--among many!--that he was dealt, but life isn't fair and we do not make excuses for our autism. We try harder. We work harder. I remind him all the time that he is truly special and can do what a lot of people can't do.
My beautiful child, my exceptional child--he wants to pursue the theatre. Talk about being able to do something that most people can't do! I've been taking him to auditions, my husband has been running lines with him, his siblings cheer him on as he stars in yet another production. He loves the theatre, he tells me, "Because when I'm onstage, no one knows I'm the autistic kid."
At home, we are always honest with each other. Having an autistic child is challenging and it changes the family dynamic: my relationship with my husband took on a heavy strain due to the financial responsibility of raising our son and we didn't always agree on which intervention path was the right one. The relationship with his brother and sister is tinged with resentment at times. We have had to change our entire lives around to accommodate his needs but even then, we could never tell when a tantrum might occur. If something like the milk wasn't in the right place in the refrigerator--there would be a huge meltdown. Sometimes, I would find him windmilling his hands and feet, or rocking himself in a corner. He didn't speak until he was three.
I was at first in denial, which soon gave way to anger. What had I done to deserve this hand? When you have a child with autism, there is no passing on the hand or folding your cards. At least, not for our family and our "no excuses." My husband and I watched parents divorce over intervention or finances--and the root was always the same: autism.
When my son was just a little guy, his doctor recommended using the regional center near us. He gave me a stack of paperwork and had me fill it out to see if my son qualified for the regional center's complimentary, state-funded care. You see, many insurance companies do not consider autism a medical condition, and my husband and I, with two children other than our son to raise, were already feeling the pressure.
The doctor explained that the state of California has a series of regional centers (ours was Inland Valley Regional) that provide care for children up to the age of three with qualifying conditions. We were so blessed that our paperwork processed and the condition was recognized--our son started receiving at-home visits from the time he was six months old up to three years old. We had an assortment of house guests in those early years: our son's nanny (we could not have him placed in day care; none would accept the accommodations he needed; we had to work full-time in order to pay co-pays and the nanny), speech therapists, occupational therapists, physical therapists. My husband and I were already trading off Sundays at church (one went to service, the other stayed in the nursery) and the regional center provided what they called "respite care": a specialist who would look after our child if we wanted to go out to eat, have coffee, or just simply get out of the house.
Even with all of this assistance, I was still having trouble adjusting to my current lot in life. By the time he was three and a half, ready for preschool, the state assistance programs were over. We still had a wonderful support group and the Autism Society helping us navigate our way and someone pointed us to an exceptional-needs preschool. My son tested into the preschool and was accepted right away. In fact, they were excited to have him join! There was one catch, though. My husband and I would have to attend a parenting class. This I would not do. He could go to the preschool but I did not want to go to some class. Finally, someone from the school called and offered to come over and conduct the class with me one-on-one, in the privacy of my home. I agreed.
She brought with her a magazine article from Autism Monthly and a hard-hitting questions: she asked me how I chose to look at my child.
How did I choose to look at my child? The child I'd had such high hopes for and now was pinching and saving to afford co-pays and treatments and medication?
She simply smiled at me. She told me that many people see their exceptional children as negatives, as detriments but what if--what if we were the negatives, the detriments to our children?
"Did you ever stop to think," she asked with a little laugh, "that your son may be way ahead of you and you're the one holding him back? Your child is a gift and is wonderfully unique. You need to adjust your perspective."
And, darn it all, was she right! I took a good, long look at myself and realized that I was choosing to blame my child--who certainly did not choose his path--for his condition.
"No excuses," I said to myself, and what a difference that perspective shift made!
He still remains an "expensive" child--his medication, doctors, and treatments all add up. While we still have a strong support group of doctors, therapists, educators, and family, we are going above and beyond a state school's resources. We've chosen to send him to a private school where he is doing well and getting the attention he needs. In mainstream kindergarten, he came home one day to tell me that he would "rather go live with Jesus than be here anymore" and that, coming after my perspective change, reminded me how fragile my gifted child is.
His repetitive behaviors and staying close to the outer perimeter of the schoolyard at recess as everyone else played without him set him apart from his classmates. My husband and I discovered that his classmates were fiercely protective of our son, but we noticed that this did not extend to social events. One year, we threw him a huge birthday party and invited his whole class. Every child came. We know now that, at least in this instance, he was accepted by this set of peers, but he could not bridge the gap to play with them. They did not actively exclude him but he could not bring himself to join them. My husband and I play "Social Stories: with him all the time: we give him a social scenario and describe the appropriate behaviors: "You are playing at recess. You want to play foursquare. You see there's a line. You wait in the line. When you are handed the ball, you say 'thank you' and join the game.' We find these stories to be very helpful for him, but even our best stories can't protect him from those who are not fiercely protective of him--the bullies.
Sometimes, he stays home from school. We made a controversial decision telling him about his autism, but I did not want to hear my six-year-old telling me he wanted to commit suicide. Most of our support group doesn't agree with this decision, nor did they agree on medicating him. Those are personal choices for any parent.
The value of his well-being is more than any cost we could bear. He doesn't have to go to special doctors or private school, but then he doesn't have to be high-functioning. I want, just like any parent wants, the best for my child.
And then your child is born, with what you've heard called an exceptionality, and...you don't want to face it.
At about eighteen months, I suspected something was...different...about my baby boy. But I still did not want to face it, so I did nothing.
Nowadays, our family lives with a "no excuses" policy. I tell him that he may have been born with autism, that may have been the card--among many!--that he was dealt, but life isn't fair and we do not make excuses for our autism. We try harder. We work harder. I remind him all the time that he is truly special and can do what a lot of people can't do.
My beautiful child, my exceptional child--he wants to pursue the theatre. Talk about being able to do something that most people can't do! I've been taking him to auditions, my husband has been running lines with him, his siblings cheer him on as he stars in yet another production. He loves the theatre, he tells me, "Because when I'm onstage, no one knows I'm the autistic kid."
At home, we are always honest with each other. Having an autistic child is challenging and it changes the family dynamic: my relationship with my husband took on a heavy strain due to the financial responsibility of raising our son and we didn't always agree on which intervention path was the right one. The relationship with his brother and sister is tinged with resentment at times. We have had to change our entire lives around to accommodate his needs but even then, we could never tell when a tantrum might occur. If something like the milk wasn't in the right place in the refrigerator--there would be a huge meltdown. Sometimes, I would find him windmilling his hands and feet, or rocking himself in a corner. He didn't speak until he was three.
I was at first in denial, which soon gave way to anger. What had I done to deserve this hand? When you have a child with autism, there is no passing on the hand or folding your cards. At least, not for our family and our "no excuses." My husband and I watched parents divorce over intervention or finances--and the root was always the same: autism.
When my son was just a little guy, his doctor recommended using the regional center near us. He gave me a stack of paperwork and had me fill it out to see if my son qualified for the regional center's complimentary, state-funded care. You see, many insurance companies do not consider autism a medical condition, and my husband and I, with two children other than our son to raise, were already feeling the pressure.
The doctor explained that the state of California has a series of regional centers (ours was Inland Valley Regional) that provide care for children up to the age of three with qualifying conditions. We were so blessed that our paperwork processed and the condition was recognized--our son started receiving at-home visits from the time he was six months old up to three years old. We had an assortment of house guests in those early years: our son's nanny (we could not have him placed in day care; none would accept the accommodations he needed; we had to work full-time in order to pay co-pays and the nanny), speech therapists, occupational therapists, physical therapists. My husband and I were already trading off Sundays at church (one went to service, the other stayed in the nursery) and the regional center provided what they called "respite care": a specialist who would look after our child if we wanted to go out to eat, have coffee, or just simply get out of the house.
Even with all of this assistance, I was still having trouble adjusting to my current lot in life. By the time he was three and a half, ready for preschool, the state assistance programs were over. We still had a wonderful support group and the Autism Society helping us navigate our way and someone pointed us to an exceptional-needs preschool. My son tested into the preschool and was accepted right away. In fact, they were excited to have him join! There was one catch, though. My husband and I would have to attend a parenting class. This I would not do. He could go to the preschool but I did not want to go to some class. Finally, someone from the school called and offered to come over and conduct the class with me one-on-one, in the privacy of my home. I agreed.
She brought with her a magazine article from Autism Monthly and a hard-hitting questions: she asked me how I chose to look at my child.
How did I choose to look at my child? The child I'd had such high hopes for and now was pinching and saving to afford co-pays and treatments and medication?
She simply smiled at me. She told me that many people see their exceptional children as negatives, as detriments but what if--what if we were the negatives, the detriments to our children?
"Did you ever stop to think," she asked with a little laugh, "that your son may be way ahead of you and you're the one holding him back? Your child is a gift and is wonderfully unique. You need to adjust your perspective."
And, darn it all, was she right! I took a good, long look at myself and realized that I was choosing to blame my child--who certainly did not choose his path--for his condition.
"No excuses," I said to myself, and what a difference that perspective shift made!
He still remains an "expensive" child--his medication, doctors, and treatments all add up. While we still have a strong support group of doctors, therapists, educators, and family, we are going above and beyond a state school's resources. We've chosen to send him to a private school where he is doing well and getting the attention he needs. In mainstream kindergarten, he came home one day to tell me that he would "rather go live with Jesus than be here anymore" and that, coming after my perspective change, reminded me how fragile my gifted child is.
His repetitive behaviors and staying close to the outer perimeter of the schoolyard at recess as everyone else played without him set him apart from his classmates. My husband and I discovered that his classmates were fiercely protective of our son, but we noticed that this did not extend to social events. One year, we threw him a huge birthday party and invited his whole class. Every child came. We know now that, at least in this instance, he was accepted by this set of peers, but he could not bridge the gap to play with them. They did not actively exclude him but he could not bring himself to join them. My husband and I play "Social Stories: with him all the time: we give him a social scenario and describe the appropriate behaviors: "You are playing at recess. You want to play foursquare. You see there's a line. You wait in the line. When you are handed the ball, you say 'thank you' and join the game.' We find these stories to be very helpful for him, but even our best stories can't protect him from those who are not fiercely protective of him--the bullies.
Sometimes, he stays home from school. We made a controversial decision telling him about his autism, but I did not want to hear my six-year-old telling me he wanted to commit suicide. Most of our support group doesn't agree with this decision, nor did they agree on medicating him. Those are personal choices for any parent.
The value of his well-being is more than any cost we could bear. He doesn't have to go to special doctors or private school, but then he doesn't have to be high-functioning. I want, just like any parent wants, the best for my child.
Monday, October 1, 2012
An unexpected expedition
I enjoy life. I enjoy the whimsy and color and love and depth.
I also enjoy unexpected expeditions.
I often feel that large chunks of life have a logical, almost scripted flow to them. Whenever there's a chchance to get off-page...I try to. Often that is in the form of random trips to the beach, taking one way instead of the usual way...and it's always exhilarating and fun.
The unpredictability can be rather amusing.
I was in the middle of homework (and will have to return to it as soon as I get back) but when I saw a Facebook post mentioning a second round of auditions for a local theatre...I suddenly had the itch. I wanted to take an unexpected side-trip.
So I fixed my hair and make-up, put on my new dress with my yellow wedding heels, and went to the auditions. Why not?
And now I am standing here, waiting, reading over a hilarious monologue and I have to say, the shine might be wearing off this particular trip. I'm not looking to wait too long--I've got student teaching in the morning.
We'll see...
I also enjoy unexpected expeditions.
I often feel that large chunks of life have a logical, almost scripted flow to them. Whenever there's a chchance to get off-page...I try to. Often that is in the form of random trips to the beach, taking one way instead of the usual way...and it's always exhilarating and fun.
The unpredictability can be rather amusing.
I was in the middle of homework (and will have to return to it as soon as I get back) but when I saw a Facebook post mentioning a second round of auditions for a local theatre...I suddenly had the itch. I wanted to take an unexpected side-trip.
So I fixed my hair and make-up, put on my new dress with my yellow wedding heels, and went to the auditions. Why not?
And now I am standing here, waiting, reading over a hilarious monologue and I have to say, the shine might be wearing off this particular trip. I'm not looking to wait too long--I've got student teaching in the morning.
We'll see...
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