Professor Mother Blog

September 6, 2011

Memory Quilt

Filed under: Home Things — profmother @ 9:10 am

This Labor Day, I spent an hour up on a ladder, finding four large boxes stored in the garage closet with Elizabeth, who was helping me in a project planned for a decade.

When Elizabeth was a baby and started outgrowing her baby clothes, there were some that I just couldn’t give away.  I couldn’t pack them up in the plastic garbage sacks and haul them off to Goodwill for some stranger to look at with a critical eye.  Those other people might not be able to see:

  • How precious that faded little blue jean dress was- the one Elizabeth wore when she was six months old,  and sitting next to her teddy bear who was the same size she was- and she was still wearing when she welcomed her new baby brother home.  
  • They wouldn’t understand how sweet the smell of fuzzy white footie pajamas with just a hint of sweet potato stain on the collar is- the perfect combination of Tide and Johnson’s baby shampooed little girl.  
  • And strangers definitely wouldn’t appreciate the newborn onesie with the little pink hearts on it that was the bane of my existence to snap up correctly and James never did manage to fasten correctly.  

I just couldn’t give them to Goodwill.  And since I was pregnant again when Elizabeth was six months old, maybe I would keep them for our next little girl.

Only the next baby was Ray- and onesies with hearts on them were not really considered acceptable.  And so, they stayed in their bag.  To be joined along the way by:

  • That sweet green dress in which Elizabeth hopped around the lawns of the lighthouse at St. Augustine when she was 18 months, laughing so hard that her tow-headed curls shook with her.  
  • And I just had to add the pink-and-white  Oshkosh overall dress when she was 2 -that was a larger version of the dress we brought her home in- and she wore everywhere for a year.  The original dress went in the bag, too.  
  • And the coat that she got when we visited Mamamum for a fall weekend that had little Pooh ears on the hood and she kept petting over and over.  She wore it three more times that winter in Florida- and every time the sweetness of my baby took my breath away.

The bag became a box the summer Ray was two, because we were moving, and I had to go through his baby clothes as well.  I scoured the clothes that were too small to leave behind, to give to Goodwill, to hand down to friends.  But I found myself smiling at the tiny Hawaiian shirt that reflected the blue snap in my son’s laughing eyes, and I couldn’t let those moments go.  The box metamorphed into a bin.

And so, I decided on a Project.  A Project that I would get to- someday.  Someday when we stopped moving.  Someday when I wasn’t starting a new job.  Someday when I wasn’t researching about autism, writing about autism, or presenting about autism.  Someday…I would turn all of those wonderful baby moments captured in these clothes into a quilt- one for each child- so that they could take a part of those moments with them.

I love quilting.  I haven’t quilted in 12 years because I hand-sew- each square, each whorl, each section I stitch by hand.  It takes me a year to make a quilt and I’ve only made three.  I don’t sew for the final product.  I sew for the joy of the doing.  But sewing a quilt takes time.  And time for a quilt would be something that I would have… someday.

I realized last week, that, amazingly, Someday was here.  This fall, for the first time in 10 years, I am not up to my eyebrows in some project.  My book is turned in, I know what I’m teaching and I’m merely tinkering with the classes, and the children are in the same school they’ve been in for three years.  No one is dying.  We’re not moving.  We have time to deal with small things, big things.  We have time to be.  I’ll be doing some traveling and some consulting and I can sew on the plane.  And I have time for the first time in a decade to get out the boxes- grown now to 4 large bins.

Four large plastic Rubbermaid tubs that have been dragged with us through 8 houses, 5 states, a summer in limbo in a storage unit, a tornado, and even a fire.  They take up a good chunk of a closet in our garage.  And they were brought down this past Monday with the help of my 10-year old baby who was strong enough to lift them and carry them inside the house.

I found out, that despite my good intentions, and the new sewing basket from Michaels, that I still couldn’t do it.  Elizabeth and I unpacked those dresses and those onesies and those smocked Christmas dresses and I just couldn’t lay scissors to them.  It rained hard as we got the edges of Tropical Storm Lee, and I told stories. I told stories of “Oh, you wore this when…” and “At this age, you were…”, and “Remember that picture when you were wearing this?”  Elizabeth carefully examined and folded each smock, each dress and each footie pajama and repeated like a mantra, “What was I doing in this one?”, as if each one connected her with her past- a past in which she was loved and adored and there was always laughter.  A past with no ghosts, no sorrow, no autism and no issues- a past that was only full of joy.  We reveled in the memories of her babyhood- the best parts that are all I want to remember.

I have some things for the quilt.  I have some of the baby blankets and some dresses with vivid colors and patterns.  I have a couple of swim suits.  But the yellow swim suit in size 6 months that had lemon patterns on the shoulders and the matching hat?  How on earth could a little yellow square capture the memory of her sitting in her play pool on our back deck in her bouncy chair as she kicked the water with laughing squeals?  Elizabeth pointed out that her baby doll, the original Lily (they’re all named Lily.  We just have Lily 1, Lily 2, etc.) would be able to wear most of the clothes.  So the little yellow swim suit with lemons on the shoulder went into “Lily’s Bin”.  

  • So did the red velvet dress with the white lace collar that she wore her first Christmas.  
  • And the darling pink and white gingham dress with the big strawberries on the pockets into which she would stop and put things on our walks.  
  • And the jean jacket with the red and white checked ruffles that she wore on her first airplane trip to Seattle.  

I looked at each article of clothing and fell in love with my daughter all over again.  She looked at each article of clothing and began to construct her sense of today with herself from yesterday.

I finally decided that a quilt just can’t capture those moments- small bits of fabric with the edges sheared off.  With Elizabeth’s assistance, we packed almost everything back into three of the tubs- rechristened “Lily’s Tubs”.  They went back into the closet, with the assurances that they would be used to dress up her doll, or to be worn with her own daughter.  Someday.  I can’t help but wonder where we’ll be dragging those tubs to next.  I know that my husband and my mother will roll their eyes at Elizabeth and me as we find space in our crowded house for 3 tubs of outgrown clothing.

I will still make a quilt of the fabrics that evoke memory through its pattern or its texture.  I will still work on this project that is 10 years in the making.  But I have a clearer understanding that sometimes, memory is formed by the details.

August 25, 2011

A Flawed Formula

Filed under: Schools — profmother @ 6:33 pm

Written after too many lectures trying to prepare teachers for a changing world of Education…

A Flawed Formula for Education

EWF= TEfEx

An Educated Work Force = Time (in most cases 12 years- in some states 13, and in still others, 14) multiplied by the EFfectiveness of the teacher (as judged by helping children pass the test), multiplied by the established EXpectations (as defined by standards- Common Core or state-specific). 

This is the formula that educational policy task forces, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, and most state departments are operating under. The formula that shapes the changes in education.  It’s not a “real” formula, but it’s the one that appears to be the driving force of Education today.

It’s an appealing formula.  There’s logic to it.  If you have good stuff to teach (standards) and you teach it well (Teacher effectiveness) over the length of time that children are in school, students will do well.

It’s an appealing formula- all of the various components are manageable, maneuverable and measurable.

It’s an appealing formula.  And it’s wrong.

A formula is derived when the relationship of one or more changing variables can predict the results of the outcome.  We all know formulas like:

  • The area of a triangle= (Base x Height)/2
  • Distance = Rate x Time

These all look at the relationship between two things  and their impact on a third thing.  Predictable.  Easy. Stable.  But here is the key assumption:

  • Nothing else impacts the outcome

If you drive a steady rate of 50 miles per hour, you will drive 50 miles in one hour, whether or not your tires are bald.  Whether you are in a gas-guzzling Hummer or an electric Tesla does not impact the distance =  rate x time formula.

There is a tremendous flurry in education these days, focusing primarily on two of these factors: Teacher Effectiveness and Standards, although there is also some limited discussion about allowing students to graduate “when ready”.  A Google search of “Teacher Effectiveness” yielded 2.7 million results, ranging from New York to California; from New Mexico to New Hampshire.  There is a great focus on “teacher effectiveness”- which generally translates into test scores.  If students do well, teachers must be effective.  If they don’t do well on the tests, then teachers are ineffective.  And the test scores are related to the content standards.

So there is also a flurry over content standards.  Forty-three states have adopted the Common Core Standards, according to the Association of Supervision and Curriculum Development.   These standards seek to be consistent across states so that, as in the case of a colleague of mine, her child does not suffer when he moves from Alabama to Massachusetts and encounters higher expectations.

And there is even some talk about changing the time required for graduation.  Georgia’s “Move on When Ready” program states that when students can complete their coursework, and take the test, they can begin dual enrollment.  The time it takes to complete an education can become flexible.

But for this formula to work, nothing else can impact the outcome.  Nothing.  And that’s where there are severe problems with mandating excellence, and requiring achievement.  Because the formula takes two things out of consideration:

  1. The highly diversified abilities and backgrounds, of children in schools, and
  2. The ever-changing landscape and culture of public school education in America.

The Missing ABCs of the formula- Abilities, Backgrounds and Culture

I have taught in both the private and the public school sectors.  I was a highly effective teacher in private school- heck, I might even have the courage to say that I was a GREAT teacher in private school.  I took kids to higher levels of learning.
We had debates that encouraged critical thinking and hands-on projects that encouraged creativity.

And in my private school, I had parents who enforced homework.  I had kids who showed up on time, clean, well-fed and attentive.  I had kids who, although diverse in their world-cultural background, were fairly similar in their economic backgrounds- they all were on the same soccer teams, saw each other at the mall and understood the “rules” of success.  They did not talk back to teachers; they said “I’m sorry”.  And the kid who kept getting into fights?  Well, we told his
parents that they had to look elsewhere- that we couldn’t serve their child appropriately in our setting- which, we couldn’t.  We didn’t keep a psychologist on staff.  We had learning programs for some kids who might be struggling, but certainly if a child was “too low”, we couldn’t serve him either.  We certainly wouldn’t have even accepted the child who couldn’t stay “dry” in her pants at age 6 and we couldn’t provide transportation to the kids who lived across town, even if they did qualify for our scholarships.

Certainly my students weren’t perfect.  I had the student whose mother drank and he was so anxious that any negative feedback would send him into full-blown tears.  I had the kid, whose father was a well-known doctor, who acted out for  attention and got it by having the nanny fired.  I had the insecure darling of a media giant who had her own iPhone at age 7, but never had a friend over.  Even these houses had secrets and anxieties and issues.

But in my private school setting, I could adapt for children’s different learning needs and provide choices in their educational experiences.  I could ask a parent to send me to specialized reading training so that I could help her child even better.  I knew that the parents, the kids and my administration expected success, worked together for success, and got success.  And in my private school, I was given gifts during Teacher Appreciation Week; I was thanked during conferences
for going “above and beyond”.  I was told that I was the reason that parents were willing to pay more money than some of them could really afford- so that their child could get a “good” education.  In the end, I could point to our standardized
tests and show that compared to those “other” kids, my kids were learning at ever-improving levels.  In that school, I could TEACH.  And I had the numbers to “prove” that I was effective.

I have also taught in public schools.  In public schools, we take EVERYONE.  Everyone.  And that means… everyone.

There is a Zero Reject policy in public education.  No child is considered uneducable.  That means that all of those children that my- and other- private schools couldn’t serve?  Public schools take them.

Public schools take the child with severe intellectual and developmental delays who needs help in learning toileting skills, but has a hilarious sense of humor and laughs at all jokes.  Public schools take the child with autism who throws tantrums and chairs.  Public schools take the child who needs a psychologist so that he can learn how to handle frustration and anger.  It can’t provide the psychologist, but it does take the child.  Public schools take the children who are
gifted at very young ages and because there are no books at home- because there is no cultural appreciation for learning- they channel their abilities into leadership- of gangs instead of corporations.  Public schools take everyone.

Public schools take the children who did not choose their parents well.  In my public school classrooms, I had the child who was going home at age 9 to take care of his younger siblings because his mother was too strung out on drugs to be home, much less cook dinner.   I had the child whose parents were so beaten down by the system that they didn’t bother showing up at school because they knew that the teachers were going to make comments about how uneducated they were and how poorly their child was doing as a result.  I had the child whose mother told me that it was my job to teach her child how to read and how to act so that he can get a job, because if she did, she would mess it up.  She didn’t have the confidence or the ability to help herself, and she was terrified to mess up another generation.  Or at least that’s how I interpreted “You gots to do it.  I fu3#$ed up myself- I don’ wanna f@$k him up, too.”  She knew the language of her streets, but not the formal language that I used.  I didn’t know her street language, either.  We both learned a lot that year.

I ‘m not talking about the “tyranny of low expectations” from  special education or any system that recognizes the challenges children face.  I mean simply that my job was harder when the other parts of the educational system weren’t working together.  When kids are carrying burdens that are the stuff of my worst nightmares, it is harder to teach them.

I was a good teacher in a public school.  I could get some discussions going.  I could provide creative, interesting ways to connect children to content.  But when a child is hungry, or a child is tired from playing video games all night, or a
child is afraid of adults, it is very, very difficult to take them to “higher levels of learning”.  My test scores were not fabulous.

It’s typical for teachers to blame parents and for parents to blame the “schools”.  Most polls find that “schools” in general are terrible, but “my school” is going a pretty good job.  When parents know their schools, and teachers know their parents, we can understand each other and we can appreciate the burdens we carry.  But when we look at schools and parents we don’t know, it is easy to make judgements.  And test score cut offs.

As a public school teacher, I can’t force parents to do “their job”- I can only teach the child I have in front of me.  “Good parents” are a bonus to a public school teacher, not a requirement of the job.  I don’t get to wring my hands and say “If only”, or “they should”.  I have to teach them all.

And it’s not just the kids or the communities- it can be the culture of education itself.  When schools are paid for by property taxes, the system is set up to reward wealthy communities and to punish poorer ones.  When Congress mandates that states follow the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA), but only pays 7% of the total cost, states must scramble to fill in the rest.  When we know that special needs are often related to poverty, we cannot be surprised when schools in high-poverty areas are low performing.

It’s racism/classism/what every “ism” you want to call it, to hold a bar in such a way that children only from certain backgrounds are successful.  When 5% of whites are dropping out of school, almost double that with 9% of African-Americans, and a shocking 18% of Hispanics are dropping out of high school, society tends to tell the low income and minority students to “try harder” by raising expectations.  If 20% of our white, middle-class students were leaving, we would change the system.  The system is designed to help those who are already successful, and to denigrate those who struggle.

Teachers are quitting by the droves.  50% quit within 5 years.  50%.  They spend a year longer than they went to college to get the degree.  And why are they quitting?  Not because they’re “ineffective”, but because the pay isn’t considered worth the hassle.  Because they’re not given mentoring opportunities.  Because it’s hard.  Because those sacrifices of your family time, your own income for snacks to feed the children, and your creativity are not appreciated or recognized by a general public who says “Don’t complain- you get a Summer vacation!” and then connects your paycheck to test scores over which you have limited control.   When essays like this are considered whining and I should get over it.

And by creating this “bar” that we’re “raising”, it’s clear that we’re not Finland- who has highly educated, well-paid teachers, a high number of immigrants, and very strong scores on international tests.  Because Finland, who has little poverty, a strong health care system, and a culture of collaboration- Finland’s “formula” looks something like this:

  • Whatever it takes

As a teacher, I was delighted if I had children in front of me who came into school well-rested, well-fed, and respectful of me and the job I needed to do.  It made my job easier if I could start a classroom off at point A and wind up at point Z by the end of the school year.  I can still do an amazing job and teach the child if those things aren’t there.  But if I am to teach my students from vastly different abilities and background to understand math and science and to be able to read and understand our history and to think critically , I have to trust that the grownups around education can do the same thing.

Our formula is flawed.

August 14, 2011

Nearing Construction…

Filed under: Autism — profmother @ 10:29 am

I haven’t been around these parts recently…. 

Since January, I have been deeply involved in the writing of my next book “Teaching Children with High Functioning Autism“.  It is being published by Prufrock Press and will be available on Amazon… as soon as I’m done…

My first book “Children with High Functioning Autism: A Parents’ Guide“- that was a love letter.  That was my story and some of my professional knowledge and I was talking to fellow parents who needed translations of scientific information.  That book was… easy to write.  That book was… cathartic to write. 

This new book is for teachers- general education teachers, special education teachers without a strong background in autism, and any teacher looking for an idea of what to do.  I’m talking to fellow teachers, but teachers want specifics, not theory.  Teachers want strategies that they can do tomorrow.  Teachers need to have something that they can implement for children who move, think, talk, feel and interact with other children in different ways.  This book required research… lots and lots and lots of research.  And ideas.  Lots and lots and lots of ideas.  And work… lots and lots and lots of work.

And I’m almost done… !!!   But not quite yet- so I’ll be back when I’m finished. 

Many, many thanks to Lacy Compton, my editor at Prufrock who has been  patient with my mis-spellings of last names, typos, and who is a master at the balance between compliments and constructive feedback. 

June 30, 2011

Expanding and Tethering

Filed under: Autism,Gifted,Home Things,Twice-exceptional — profmother @ 8:48 pm

Last night, for the first time ever, I put my little girl, my baby, my first-born, on a plane that took her across the ocean- far, far away from me. And for the first time, I understood what my mother felt when she hugged me goodbye as I took my first steps away from her. My daughter may be across the ocean, but I am tethered to her in a way I never quite understood before.

Back in January, I was looking for ways to celebrate James’ 50th birthday. “0″ birthdays are big deals in our family.  I was playing with the idea of using fabulous deals available on travelzoo.com, a site that is designed to torture me.  And then… the car died.  Big bills came due.  Money became tighter.  So- no family trip to Ireland or San Diego, or really even Disney, a relatively close 3 hours away.  At the same time, Vicki decided to go and visit her uncle who is a scientist at Cambridge… in England.. for a month.  And she invited all of us to go… All of us.  For a month.

Heck, YES!  An opportunity to stay in England for FREE?!  I was all over that- until I looked at airline prices.  For all of us.  Which, given our financial limitations, meant that there was enough money for… one.

I briefly considered going.  Running away from it all, leaving the children, leaving James to take care of them.  For a month.  Leaving autism and Tourette’s and tantrums and book due dates and deadlines and…. all of behind… for a month.  Far away- across the sea…. ahhhh.

And the responsible mommy, the one who adores her children, the one who knows that such a break would break too much had to decline. But I could give Elizabeth the opportunity.

For Elizabeth, you see, is a traveler.  She has been on planes since was 3 months old.  She adores the planning, the organization, the feeling of airplanes.  New places do not scare her.  I have distinct memories of her interpreting the symbols in Switzerland and navigating us through the maze of an international airport.  At the age of 3.  She can filter out noise and extraneous “stuff” and find the important details.  Similar to her abilities with hidden pictures and puzzles, she is able to visually locate and identify what she wants to find.  In so many ways, autism works for her now and highlights her abilities.

For months, she and Vicki have been planning this.  She was excited that she would miss the 4th of July- fireworks are not her thing.  They will go punting on the Thames.  They will take tea. They’ll go see Phantom of the Opera- live- in London.  They’re going to see “Much Ado About Nothing”- at the Globe Theater.  And then, Vicki found an opportunity to go to Paris.  As in, not Texas.  As in France.  Paris- the romance of it is just amazing.  I found Grace Potter’s song “Ooo la la” to become her anthem.    And they’re going over Bastille Day- which means that Elizabeth won’t miss the fireworks- they’ll just be in a French accent.  She’s been practicing French- badly, but learning that there are different ways to say “Hello”.  I am now “Maman”.

I have marveled watching her expand her horizons.  So many people have asked me “How could you let her go?” and my response has always been, “How could I not let her go?”  I trust Vicki a whole lot more than I would trust some sleep-away camp counselor.  Vicki understands her need to sleep, her need to reduce stimulation when she’s overwhelmed, her need to plan and have structure. And it’s LONDON!  And PARIS!!   It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.  And I’ve been battling wild envy at the same time that I’m feeling so grateful that my daughter has come this far that she can do this- and that the opportunity came at a time when she is ready to learn about a bigger world.  I can’t allow my own fears to get in the way of her growing up.

I helped her pack, full of pride, full of joy, tinged with “Can I go, too?” and a small dribble of sadness at missing her.  So many people expressed that they would be afraid; that they would be lonely; that they couldn’t let their daughter go.

Somehow, I am strangely not anxious.  I realized why when I was hugging her goodbye, and I realized that I was acting like my mother- and I finally understand the mix of emotions.

**********

When I was 10 years old, I spent two weeks with my father, my step-mother, and my half-brother. I went off for the longest I had ever been away from home.  I was nervous, but it ended up being a lovely summer of learning how to play tennis, learning that you can drink tea with cream, the movies “Bedknobs and Broomsticks” and “Superman”, and staring in the mirror with my brother as we marveled over how similar our faces were.  I got letters from my mother almost every day- letters that were full of the small details of our home.  Stories about the cat, stories about the weather.  Stories that let me know that she loved me, she was thinking of me, and that I always had a place at home.  Even as I was exploring new places, I always had a place of my own.  That level of security grounded me.  It never occurred to me that my mother was very consciously letting me explore at my own pace.

****

As I followed Elizabeth and Vicki at the airport last night- close, but not hovering; there if she needed me, but far enough away to let her try it on her own, I realized I must be feeling what my mother felt.  It’s the same feeling I had when I let her climb the slide at 10 months old- surrounding her with my arms, but not touching.  Letting her know that I was there if she fell, but that she could stretch and explore at the same time.  I was alert; I was proud, but I was never really scared because I knew that she would be all right.  We are tethered together in such a way that mere distance- whether it’s inches from the almost-a-toddler as she crawls up a slide ladder, or across an ocean from the almost-a-teenager- cannot disconnect me from my baby, or my baby from her place.

All day today, I have been aware of her- not her absence, but her presence… elsewhere.  ”Oh, now she’s landing.”  ”They must be getting on the train now.” I can sense her tiredness, her clinginess to Vicki and her interest in everything she’s seeing.  I can sense her need to hold on to Bunny, her stuffed pink bunny, and Bear, her stuffed pink bear (names have never been her strength).  I have been sending her “Mama’s here.  Mama’s always here” feelings all day.  She’s tired; she’s inundated with the newness- but she’s not overwhelmed.  She’s with Vicki, and she’s with Bear- and I’m there for her when she needs to reach out to me.  We’re tethered, but not tied.

Instead of letters like my mother wrote, I send her emails.  Instead of phone calls, we Facetime.  Technology may change, but not the mother instinct – that remains constant.

So- to my mother- I get it now.  I get it that our job as a parent is to let them explore their world, while letting them know that we are always there for them.  To quote the old phrase, for giving me- and now her- “wings with which to fly and roots from which to grow”.  Thank you for giving me that- and giving me a role model to let my daughter explore the slide then- and Paris now.

But I have to admit, I do miss her. And I really, really wish I could experience Paris with her.  

*************

If you want to read about her adventures, she’s blogging them at http://allieinternational.wordpress.com.  I may be a proud, scared, slightly envious mommy, but I’m still a teacher!

June 12, 2011

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

Filed under: Exceptionality issues — profmother @ 5:02 pm

We’re stuck inside today because of the fires.  How a swamp- the Okeefeenokee Swamp, to be specific- can burn is beyond my understanding of swamps.  We, like much of the United States, have wildfires burning to the north of us, the south of us, and to the west of us.  When the wind stops blowing, or blows too hard, or blows from the west, we have a pall of smoke that hangs over us, making our clothes smell funny, the air burn our throats, and keeps us inside.  Even on an island, we are impacted.

My mother in New Mexico is impacted by the huge Arizona fire- the one that is out of control, doubling in size, and sending a plume of smoke as far as Iowa.  She, too, is spending the weekend inside, with the extra fear that the land around her will burst into flame in moment’s notice and she will have to run.  She is 200 miles from the fire, but there is nothing but bone-dry land around her, and the threat is there.

However, irritating and anxiety-producing as it for us, we are not on the front lines.  We are not fighting the winds, the lack of rain, the tinder-dry landscape.  My heart goes out to the firefighters and their families.  I was reading up on the AZ fire, and I found this picture of this man.  His name is Jan Koch.

Take a moment and really look at Mr. Koch’s face.  I was flipping through a slideshow and all of sudden, I saw it- his face.  And it’s a face I recognize.  Not him, personally, but his face.

He’s tired.  The exhaustion shows in his eyes, his skin, the angle of his head.

His eyes are dark and weary- they have seen more than I can possible imagine.  I feel that if I look hard enough, I will be able to see deep in his irises the images of the hellish scenes he has witnessed.  He’s trying to smile, but the images in his eyes are more than the smile can touch.

He’s not bursting with bravado; there is no cocky attitude of “Oh, yea- we got this thing beat.”  His eyes are steady, recognizing that he is fighting something that is big… bigger than we can really imagine.  His eyes demonstrate respect for this fight.

The grime on his face shows evidence of hours of back-breaking work followed by intensity.  It is his own sweat, his own tears and the remnants of the fight that leaves its mark on it.

The hat on his head shows that he has equipment and knowledge that will help him.  But there is the understanding that tools and training and technology doesn’t win the day.  His hard work and the hard work of his team is required- they depend on each other to battle this… thing.

And if you look beyond the bone-deep weariness that threatens to overwhelm him, you’ll see an incredibly stubborn spirit.  This is hope without a timeline; he is going to go back to the fire after his picture is taken.  He is not giving up, despite every good reason to do so.  He plans, and re-plans and re-plans again.  He works as a team.  And he gets up after a restless sleep to try again, hoping that today will see some progress- any progress.

I do not know this man- but I know his face.  His face that looks like so many faces of parents and teachers whom I know.  The face of so many people out of work around here. The face of so many veterans who are facing illness and disability.  The faces of all of these, within a community that doesn’t know what to do with them- a community that is afraid.

Because I work in the field I do, because I have the family I do, because I live where I live, I see so many people with this same face.  I see the faces of families who are fighting the fight of autism, of appropriate services, of human respect.    I see the faces of researchers who are trying very hard to get something to happen very fast, because they know that they are running out of time for a child that they know, a child they care about.  I see the faces of teachers who are fighting a budget battle, a lack of support and a lack of knowledge.

In all of them, I see the face of tiredness, resoluteness, and grim determination with a flicker of hope. I pray that the hope remains.

The firefights are all around us.  When I think of all of the tired faces and I feel the need for hope, a lump comes up in my throat and there is a blurriness in my vision.

Must be the smoke in my eyes.

June 6, 2011

Studying Tourette’s

Filed under: Tourette's Syndrome — profmother @ 7:46 am

It is clear that Tourette’s is inherited.  My father has Tourette’s; my brother had Tourette’s.  My husband has Tourette’s (undiagnosed), and my son has Tourette’s (diagnosed).  Gee- you think there’s an inherited quality to it?  Gee- you think that somehow I’m surrounded by men with Tourette’s?

But there’s two problems with declaring it to be an inherited syndrome:

  1. Tourette’s is so intertwined with:
    • Autism
    • Bipolar disorder
    • Obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD)
    • Attention Deficit Disorder (ADHD)
    • Oppositional Defiant Disorder (ODD)
    • Generalized Anxiety Disorder- Not Otherwise Specified (GAD-NOS),
    • Even dysgraphia,  and a whole host of other initials, that it’s hard to separate out what is a Tourette’s tic, what is an autism tic, what is a vocal tic versus impulsive speech, what is a repetitive behavior versus a tic, and what is just little boy anxiety.
  2. There are no good genetic studies that can pinpoint that there- right there in the DNA strand- is where Tourette’s lives.

But the Tourette Syndrome Association International Consortium for Genetics (TSAICG- now that’s an acronym that rolls trippingly off the tongue) is trying to work on both issues.  They have identified some potential chromosomes and need volunteers to contribute to a study they’re doing.  A study that is sponsored by the National Institute of Health.  A study that requires blood to analyze.A study that is very, very important.  A study where I will never see the direct results for my child, but one that I know that can impact future medications, future therapy and future understanding of this… this… whatever this “Tourette’s” is.

See that number on the right hand side?  One of those numbers is my son, I’m proud to say.  And I’m most proud of why he agreed.

  • Setting- In Ray’s bed as I’m reading to him at bedtime.  Normally, a time when we can talk and he’s not so distracted by… everything.
  • Me- Ray, there’s a study that wants to look at what causes Tourette’s!  And you’re invited.  They have my email in their systems and they emailed me today and invited you to participate (I didn’t tell him about the online survey I had already filled out that yup- found that he’s a candidate)
  • Ray- Oh.
  • Me- Yea.  They need your permission to do it.  It means getting your blood drawn, but they’re going to analyze your blood and look at the teeny tiny parts in your blood called DNA and learn all kinds of things about Tourette’s.  Isn’t that cool?!
  • Ray- NO WAY!
  • Me- And they’re going to give you a $10 gift certificate to Target when you’re done! (It’s really $5, but in the name of science, we’ll contribute $5 ourselves)
  • Ray- No. (Starting to shut down now)
  • Me- You know, sweetie, these results aren’t going to help you.  It’s going to take them a long time to find out the information they need to help people with Tourette’s.  But it might help your child. 
  • Ray- I’m not having children. (Contrary kid)
  • Me- Certainly that’s your choice.  But the results might help Elizabeth’s children.  Or even their children.  Just imagine!  Your blood could actually be part of a study that helps so many children.   But they can’t take it without your permission.  They already have my permission- but they have to have yours.  You have to agree to it.  And it’s ok if you don’t.  I can see where this might be scary.
  • Ray- no response- and he got down from the bed to get a drink of water.

End of conversation- or so I thought.

  • Setting- early the next morning
  • Elizabeth- HEY!  How come Ray gets to get a Target gift card for some blood of his?  I want a Target gift card!

I’m not sure if it was sibling rivalry, the opportunity to get money towards a DSi game at Target, or the opportunity to help his sister’s future children- but he talked to the researchers from Children’s Hospital in Boston and agreed to help.  They’ve sent us the tubes for us to mail, and next week, his pediatrician will be drawing his blood to FedEx to Boston.  He’s nervous. He’s more than a little anxious about it.  But he knows that he’s helping.

I encourage anyone who has Tourette’s, who knows someone with Tourette’s, who finds this blog through Googling Tourette’s, to participate in this study.

Someday, you might help your sister’s children, too.

June 2, 2011

Kung Fu Eyes

Filed under: Exceptionality issues — profmother @ 7:03 am

We just saw Kung Fu Panda 2 as a family and I have to admit I fell asleep during it.  Predictable?  Yes.  Silly?  Oh yes.  But my mother noticed something really quite disturbing- and the more I watched, the more I closed my eyes… See if you can spot it.

Here is Po.

and Monkey

and Crane

There’s Master Shifu

Even Mr. Goose

Then there’s Mantis- not as obvious, perhaps, but then, he’s angry

These are the Good Guys.  See anything they have in common?

Then, there are the Sexy Characters- on the side of Good, but with a little sex appeal thrown in.

There’s Viper…

And of course there’s Tigress- a “good” guy (small g),  but not exactly cuddly, warm, or funny.  Gorgeous- Exotic, definitely.  Sexy- oh my…

Now, the Bad Guys.

There’s Wolf Boss

There’s Gorilla

There’s Soothsayer, who while she’s not Bad, she’s not exactly Good, either.  And she works for Shen.  She’s sortof creepy and mysterious.

And of course, there’s Lord Shen- the Baddest Dude of All. (very hard to find a picture of Shen’s face, by the way)

…. do you see it yet?

The “Good Guys” all have round, open eyes, and most of the time, even have blue or green eyes. The mysterious, sexy characters both had exotically slanted eyes, but  they are definitely not Asian- they doesn’t have the epicanthal fold, which is the inner eye fold characteristic of Asians.  The “Bad Guys” all had dark eyes, with vaguely Asian casts to their eyes, and in the case of Lord Shen, very evident Asian eyes.  Even the “Asian Good Guys” had good ol’ American round blue eyes, like Master Shifu and even Mr. Goose.

And so, this light-hearted, family flick is reinforcing the stereotype that Asians are Scary!  Evil!  Out to take over the world!  Not to be trusted!  Baaaaad!  I’m certainly not the first to notice this: The Black Snob did back in 2008 for the first movie, as did Professor What If.  And certainly, the political, educational, and economic tensions have only increased between the United States and Asia since then.  Propoganda certainly looks cuter when there’s a chubby bear and Jack Black involved. But Angelina- I’m ashamed of you!

I’m not going to rant here about the perpetuation of stereotypes in Disney movies.  I leave that for the more serious scholars.  But I will introduce these concepts in my course this summer and let my students mull on the impact of stereotypes on children.  “It’s only a cartoon” is what most of them will say.  “Lighten up!“

But you see, I can’t “lighten up”.  Because every time a person is denigrated for their race, their culture, the way they move, or the way they talk or interact, a little less humanity is taken away from all of us.  Because every time we allow ourselves to be scared of an Asian peacock, laugh at a person with mental retardation, or tease a child with autism, we are robbing ourselves- and our children- of understanding the richness and the diversity of beauty in the world.  And when we don’t see the beauty, we see the differences- while history and present day living shows us that those in power hurt those that are different.

When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.

When they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.

When they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.

When they came for the Jews,
I did not speak out;
I was not a Jew.

When they came for me, there was no one left to speak out.- Pastor Martin Niemoller

It may be “only a cartoon”, but it’s an incredibly scary movie.  And I’m speaking out.

June 1, 2011

39 Clues About Who is the Worst Mommy in the World

Filed under: Home Things,Uncategorized — profmother @ 2:44 pm

I win the Worst Mommy in the World Award- at least, according to my son.  Turns out, however, it’s an award that several moms around here share.

I win this coveted award because school ended last Friday- and I started requiring the children to read for half an hour and do math for half an hour before they can go and play with friends, watch TV or get on the computer on Tuesday.  Last year, I had all kinds of plans- wonderfully structured and interesting summer lessons in language arts and math.  Complete with mini-field trips.  It was a wonderful plan- and it worked- for about a week.  Summer school classes that I was teaching, camp, and visits soon ended our formal summer learning.

One of the things that frustrates me to no end is that I LOVE teaching- I love devising activities for kids to engage in the material, I love making kids think, and I fancy that I’m pretty good explaining things- and my son (and daughter to a lesser extent) will have none of it.  ”NO!” is the feedback I get when I suggest “What if we try it this way?”  ”That’s not the way Ms.-So -Much -Smarter -Than -Mommy -Because -She’s -A -REAL -3/4th -Grade -Teacher does it” is the other favorite retort.  My reply of “You know, I used to teach 3rd/4th grade” gives me a little credibility, but not much.  But when I try to create an experience, take them beyond, or even explain, I get resistance.  A LOT of resistance.

So, our plans this summer are much simpler- much less dependent on Mommy and more dependent on the workbook.  I hate it, but at least the workbook is on Singapore Math and at least I can drop in small amounts of instruction.

And- it turns out, Abel- Ray’s new best buddy’s- Mom is doing something quite similar.  So, we got our heads together, and Ray and Abel are going to be reading the 39 Clues series together.  The boy in the series, Dan, is active, anxious, and good at math.  The series is written by a group of male authors (Rick Riordan is one of them!) who wrote a continuing series.  I read the first one and got completely hooked.  If the boys were in my class, I would totally have them start writing their own continuing story, starting with their own adventures.

But of course, I can’t- I’m only Mommy.  And the Worst Mommy in the World, at that.  It’s an award I treasure this summer, as I watch my son learn that friends can share even adventure stories together.

May 26, 2011

Reflections on Teaching

Filed under: College information — profmother @ 12:47 pm

Below is my “Reflection and Philosophy” that I had to write as part of my application for the GA Excellence in Teaching Award that my College nominated me for… I find it appropriate at the end of a school year to take a moment and think about what I believe in as a teacher- and what kind of teacher I want to be… besides a tired one. 

**************************

In my office, I have several words on the wall in large letters that form the foundation of my core educational beliefs.  The first- hung above my door to remind me as I leave to teach, to present, or to collaborate in a meeting- says “Think”.  Unless people make sense of information for themselves and see the value of that information, learning will be a useless recitation of facts- useful for a test, but neither remembered nor used later.  As a teacher, I believe that students should do the “work” of learning.  It is through a critical understanding of the juncture between our content, our students and our expectations that we can understand ability, culture and our relationships with others. To understand their own beliefs about teaching and learning, students must first see things from other perspectives, including those foreign to, and especially, those perspectives opposed to their own.

The second word in my office- hung on my wall so I see it as I enter, preparing to get on the computer or to start a project- is “Create”.  While I want students to think and to reflect, I want them to create a new reality from their understandings.  I want them to apply their knowledge and individualize it to their needs and the needs of their classroom.  Thought contained in the head is of no value.  Thought transformed into action is a powerful agent of change.  I cannot expect students to make change unless they have had practice doing so. 

Finally- hanging above my computer, where I see it when I look up to think, or take a phone call, or even yawn- is the word “Believe”.  Belief means not a blind acceptance, but an optimism in the human condition- a belief that people are inherently good and that given a nurturing environment, people will grow and deepen in their understanding of the world.   With belief, teachers know their actions have meaning; that their lessons extend far beyond the classroom.

Core values, however, have to be translated into real experiences that have a purpose. I believe firmly in a progressive form of education in the spirit of John Dewey and Maria Montessori.  While I as a teacher may have some control over the environment, I have to release my own ego in order to learn from it.  Thomas Merton (1968) refers to this process as “transcendence”, in which it is clear that through teaching, one learns, and by learning, one can then teach.

Objectives

The College of Coastal Georgia is a new baccalaureate institution, approved by the Board of Regents and the USG in 2009.  Our brand-new B.S degree program in Early Childhood/Special Education is one of the few dual-certification programs in the state.  I was hired as the only full-time faculty member in Special Education to help design, build and implement that program, as well as to help build the four-year College.  I got to work with my colleagues to design a program that would be a model for teacher education, and a College that makes a difference- and this past Spring, we graduated our first bachelor’s cohort- a result of a lot of fast and hard work.  Everyone here at CCGA has an incredible entrepreneurial spirit.  My dean has said that his job is to “get the horses out in front and let ‘em run”; and so, my job has been to run with it. 

My overall goal for the students in our program is simple: “Teach any student, anywhere, anything”.  Additionally, I tell students that my job is to help them “Get jobs.  Keep their jobs.  Enjoy their jobs”.  As a dually-certified teacher at the elementary level, they are to take any area of the content, and adapt and differentiate it for any type of learning difference and any type of culture.  They will have to reach and teach every child who enters their classroom- all while understanding and appreciating the differences that may exist between children or between themselves and a child.  This means that my success is measured not by the compliments I receive by my college students, or even by our graduation rate, but by their impact on the students they teach.  Yes, test scores and graduation rates are important.  But what I teach my students is to understand, care for, and grow the children in front of them- all aspects that I try to model in my classroom.  I may be a college professor now, but I have not left off teaching children; I have simply expanded my classroom by teaching their teachers. 

When asked “What do you do?”, my response is always, “I am a teacher of teachers.”  I take my job very seriously; myself, much less so.  I strive to make my classes involved, intense, and focused on the eventual outcome of working with children- all while enjoying the process.  When armed with a set of skills, understanding of a particular subject matter, and a passion for making a difference, teachers can reach, guide and transform students, thereby transforming themselves.  In my teaching of my undergraduate students, I have sought to make real this concept of transformation and engagement.  I bear a responsibility to my students to provide them with skills, experiences and concepts that will enable them to effectively function as teachers themselves within the context of school.  Because we just graduated our first bachelor’s students, I don’t have good data about how successful we have been.  However, I received an email from a student last week that said “I ‘m looking forward to my own classroom.  You’ve really prepared me to help these children.” I look forward to keeping in touch with my students and seeing how they continue to grow.

Although I am tremendously complimented by the College of Coastal Georgia’s recognition of my teaching, excellence happens within a context- I am able to do what I do because of the leadership of my College, my School, and the other faculty members with whom I work- and especially the students who were willing to take a risk with a new College and a new program.  The College of Coastal Georgia and the School of Education and Teacher Preparation is growing and seeking to be the best, and I’m honored to be part of that forward movement. Excellence is a journey- you can measure the progress, but you never reach the destination.  As in life, there is no final outcome in teaching, learning and education.  I know that I can always improve- and even as I write this, I am thinking of better ways to improve my research, my syllabi, my instruction, and my relationships with students, other faculty and the local schools.  I love what I do as a teacher of teachers- and that means creating excellent teachers for all students, thinking about the process of teaching, and believing in the humanity of every child, every student, and the power to make a difference.

May 25, 2011

Oprah Made Me Do It

Filed under: Uncategorized — profmother @ 4:43 pm

All right- I’ll admit it.  It’s all because of Oprah.

  • Live Your Best Life
  • My Favorite Things
  • My Greatest Lessons
  • What we dwell on is who we become
  • Aha moment
  • The bitter comes with the sweet
  • Dwell in possibility…

It’s been a rough few months- too much

  • Work
  • 4th grade
  • Tourette’s
  • Autism
  • ADHD
  • Failures

Not enough

  • Time
  • Money
  • Grants
  • Travel
  • Energy
  • Health
  • Wins

I’ve put my head down, made lists, went from moment to moment, and have not exercised enough.  I have not reached out.  I have not processed.  Depression?  Probably.  Stress?  Absolutely?  Existential crisis?  (That is another post altogether).  Oh yes.  Midlife crisis?  Maybe.

No “big deal”- just a lot of Pirahna Bites.  There have been better times in my life.  There have also been a lot of worse times.

But I had to watch the show today- as I folded laundry and as I graded yet another online assignment.  I saw the last M*A*S*H, the last Johnny Carson, the last Hannah Montana- and now, the last Oprah. The end of Oprah is a moment- I remember when she started.  I had to see her end.  I’ve been cheered up, rolled my eyes, and seen a cultural touchpoint.    It is because of Oprah that we can discuss so many things that were “shh” concepts- things that were hushed up in previous generations and are now brought out into the open. Trite?  Maybe.  Overdone at times?  Yes. But her infallible sensitivity in the face of so many issues broke so many boundaries.  I can probably say that it is because of Oprah that I can admit to my anxieties as a parent, as a wife, as a woman.

Live your Best Life.

My best life involves my reaching out to others, to translating, to processing- to thinking on a page.  My best life involves my Spirit, my Health, and my writing.  My best life involves me writing.  My best life involves me thinking.  My Best Life involves living it.

I was also just nominated as my College’s nominee for the State Excellence in Teaching Award- similar to winning Teacher of the Year for the College.  While that is seriously cool, I realized as I wrote up my teaching philosophy today that I needed to LIVE my philosophy more- better- truly.

And then there was Oprah.

And so I’m writing again.  I’m thinking again.  And I’m off to yoga now.

This is me setting out to live my best life- one blog post, one yoga session, one hug at a time.

Thanks, Oprah.

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