E. is in the middle of another testing cycle at school. There are three or four in a year. I'm going to try to stay off the broader issue of standardized testing in our schools today. Let's just say that as both an educator and a parent, I feel like there is WAY too much emphasis on test-taking.
Standardized testing does not "count" for E. until third grade. Nonetheless, he began taking a version of the tests in kindergarten. My impression is that they do this in part to provide teachers with a relative measure of students' achievement, but largely in order to get them acclimated to the testing process.
Much different than my experience in the days of yore, very few of these tests are done with pencil and paper. For E. this is a good thing. His motor skills are such that he might actually miss a number of questions based entirely on inaccurate filling of bubbles. Instead, he just has to move the mouse and click his answer. As a child of the computer generation, that is well within his ability.
When the standardized tests are completed on the computer, they tend to be adaptive, meaning that they difficulty of the questions is adjusted to your performance. Get questions right, and the difficulty increases little by little; miss several and you go the other direction.
E. came home the other day and told us that there had been multiplication on his test. 3 x 100 was the first question. And so he figured out how to multiply. As far as I can tell, he surveyed the available answers, considered how one might figure out the question, and moved on from there. He now knows how to multiply, figured several random facts I gave him--more of the basic-facts variety, but still requiring an understanding of the underlying concept.
I can't say I'm surprised by this. I remember doing some math problems with him in a year or two ago when it was clear that he was close to using multiplication to figure out answers. He just didn't realize that was what he was doing, didn't know the term 'multiplication' or its symbols.
Math is a second language for me. It gives shape to my thoughts. I love its order and do figures for fun. When E. would come home last year, complaining about math, saying he hated it, I had to steel myself not to take it personally. This year has been so much better for him in many ways, helped a lot by the fact that his current teacher is a math-science kind of person. Even when E. has struggled with the occasional concept, he is much less resistant to working with me and, dare I say, we end up having fun and connecting over the lessons. And when he tells me that he's figured out an advanced concept on his own, just because it was there in front of him, I can't help but say, "That's my son!"
Showing posts with label Asperger's. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Asperger's. Show all posts
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Monday, November 08, 2010
What I did on summer vacation
In the middle of a week during the summer, A. and I dropped E. and Z. at the grandparents' and headed one state over to an autism conference. J. came along with us, mostly because he had no choice.
For two days, we had a chance to listen to some amazing experts in the field of autism. This was for us, in many ways, our music festival stocked with revered celebrities. We had watched and/or read presentations by all of the speakers who would be there, but we wanted to see them in person anyway. Going into the event, we were both excited for the day with Tony Attwood and Temple Grandin.
Since J. was with us, I spent a large part of several sessions outside of the auditorium. Whenever he started fussing, I headed to the door. If he wasn't too worked up, I discovered that I could still hear the presenter while sitting in the chairs just outside the doors. When that would fail, we would walk around the hotel lobby. We got to know some of the vendors pretty well. A. took him for one session each day, so I had some uninterrupted time. And we also received a booklet with many of the slides from the presentations, so I was able to fill in the gaps.
We purchased a few books and a kit, although we haven't done nearly as much with them as I would like. (Everything's getting pushed to another time. Lots of "once the baby's sleeping better." Which still hasn't happened.) But we walked away with a lot of good material and high spirits.
A. and I also got to eat out a couple times and stroll around a shopping center (with the all-important stop at the Lego Store). Sure we had J. with us, but he was mostly content to hang out with us.
I had three interactions with presenters which made the whole trip worthwhile. Each one deserves its own post; I hope to give them space in the next week or two.
For two days, we had a chance to listen to some amazing experts in the field of autism. This was for us, in many ways, our music festival stocked with revered celebrities. We had watched and/or read presentations by all of the speakers who would be there, but we wanted to see them in person anyway. Going into the event, we were both excited for the day with Tony Attwood and Temple Grandin.
Since J. was with us, I spent a large part of several sessions outside of the auditorium. Whenever he started fussing, I headed to the door. If he wasn't too worked up, I discovered that I could still hear the presenter while sitting in the chairs just outside the doors. When that would fail, we would walk around the hotel lobby. We got to know some of the vendors pretty well. A. took him for one session each day, so I had some uninterrupted time. And we also received a booklet with many of the slides from the presentations, so I was able to fill in the gaps.
We purchased a few books and a kit, although we haven't done nearly as much with them as I would like. (Everything's getting pushed to another time. Lots of "once the baby's sleeping better." Which still hasn't happened.) But we walked away with a lot of good material and high spirits.
A. and I also got to eat out a couple times and stroll around a shopping center (with the all-important stop at the Lego Store). Sure we had J. with us, but he was mostly content to hang out with us.
I had three interactions with presenters which made the whole trip worthwhile. Each one deserves its own post; I hope to give them space in the next week or two.
Monday, November 01, 2010
This Aspie speaks
I'd sort of seen some talk about today's Communication Shutdown, which encourages people to stay off of Facebook, Twitter, and social networking in general in support of autism. With J. not sleeping and a build up on my "to do" list--plus my mind had registered that this was all taking place "next month"--I hadn't really paid it any attention. But now it's next month and my Twitter is awash in #ASDay and #AutismShoutOut hash tags.
As it turns out, much has already been said of what I'm thinking, but I'll add my thoughts anyway.
The idea behind not using social media for a day is to experience the frustration of a social disconnect. Yet this is almost backwards, as many people with autism have found that social media provide them with ways to connect much more successfully than in real life. I prefer email and internet research to phone calls. Facebook is how I keep in touch with many family members and friends. I was late to join Twitter, but mostly because I have always known that it would suck me in too much (I'm trying very hard to balance that, and working has helped limit my time). Online conversations play to my strengths and smooth over some of the weaknesses. I get more time to process what has been said and think through my response. My correspondent's words are available to read and re-read; I don't have to rely on a memory that's being bombarded with lots of simultaneous pieces of information.
The flip side is that Asperger's has not led to anything resembling silence for me. I am frequently a chatterbug in real life. In fact, I had to learn to be quiet and really listen and comprehend what's being said to me. My experience of real-time conversations is probably different from most of yours, but I didn't know that for the longest time and have never known a different experience. I didn't think to feel this set me apart until I was told that it did.
Slight aside: It irks me to be told that Aspies can't multitask. The truth is that we are champion multitaskers; we just fill up our queues with items that might be considered a single task, or no task at all, by others. When I'm talking to a person, I'm consciously processing what I hear, actively filtering out other noises, judging facial expressions and their relevance, scanning my databases for appropriate responses or anecdotes, weighing the quantity and quality of eye contact, and monitoring my own expressions and body language. When I'm tired, I know that there will be a decrease in my comprehension, a lag in putting on appropriate appearances, and markedly less eye contact.
But really, that starts to get at my main issue with things like this Communication Shutdown. So much of the conversation about autism is a description from the outside. And I can't tell you how many times I've read an article about autism or Asperger's where the outside perspective is presented as fact and I find myself frustrated since it falls so far from my experience or clearly misunderstands. I spent a long time convinced I couldn't have Asperger's because of these descriptions, because I am extremely sensitive and empathetic, because eye contact is difficult for me due to the overwhelming flood of information it provides. It was only through the process of E.'s diagnosis, the 3 1/2 years leading up to it with us knowing this is what we were dealing with, and the persistent research both A. and I undertook that I was able to realize that there is a disconnect between a large part of the literature and the actual experience.
And I guess that's why I've shifted my focus here. I want to correct some of those descriptions that share so little with my reality and give you a peek of the view from this side.
I can't do that if I shutdown communications. Likewise, you can't hear me if you turn off your social media.
As it turns out, much has already been said of what I'm thinking, but I'll add my thoughts anyway.
The idea behind not using social media for a day is to experience the frustration of a social disconnect. Yet this is almost backwards, as many people with autism have found that social media provide them with ways to connect much more successfully than in real life. I prefer email and internet research to phone calls. Facebook is how I keep in touch with many family members and friends. I was late to join Twitter, but mostly because I have always known that it would suck me in too much (I'm trying very hard to balance that, and working has helped limit my time). Online conversations play to my strengths and smooth over some of the weaknesses. I get more time to process what has been said and think through my response. My correspondent's words are available to read and re-read; I don't have to rely on a memory that's being bombarded with lots of simultaneous pieces of information.
The flip side is that Asperger's has not led to anything resembling silence for me. I am frequently a chatterbug in real life. In fact, I had to learn to be quiet and really listen and comprehend what's being said to me. My experience of real-time conversations is probably different from most of yours, but I didn't know that for the longest time and have never known a different experience. I didn't think to feel this set me apart until I was told that it did.
Slight aside: It irks me to be told that Aspies can't multitask. The truth is that we are champion multitaskers; we just fill up our queues with items that might be considered a single task, or no task at all, by others. When I'm talking to a person, I'm consciously processing what I hear, actively filtering out other noises, judging facial expressions and their relevance, scanning my databases for appropriate responses or anecdotes, weighing the quantity and quality of eye contact, and monitoring my own expressions and body language. When I'm tired, I know that there will be a decrease in my comprehension, a lag in putting on appropriate appearances, and markedly less eye contact.
But really, that starts to get at my main issue with things like this Communication Shutdown. So much of the conversation about autism is a description from the outside. And I can't tell you how many times I've read an article about autism or Asperger's where the outside perspective is presented as fact and I find myself frustrated since it falls so far from my experience or clearly misunderstands. I spent a long time convinced I couldn't have Asperger's because of these descriptions, because I am extremely sensitive and empathetic, because eye contact is difficult for me due to the overwhelming flood of information it provides. It was only through the process of E.'s diagnosis, the 3 1/2 years leading up to it with us knowing this is what we were dealing with, and the persistent research both A. and I undertook that I was able to realize that there is a disconnect between a large part of the literature and the actual experience.
And I guess that's why I've shifted my focus here. I want to correct some of those descriptions that share so little with my reality and give you a peek of the view from this side.
I can't do that if I shutdown communications. Likewise, you can't hear me if you turn off your social media.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Green grows my anxiety
E. has a co-morbid diagnosis of Anxiety Disorder, Not Otherwise Specified. In other words, he worries a lot. This summer, we tried some cognitive behavioral therapy. It was not all that effective, more because the therapist did not seem to make any adjustments for the Asperger's piece of the equation. He told us several times that dealing with anxiety in kids is easy. But it doesn't really work that way in Asperger's.
Before we realized that we would probably be able to do more for E.'s anxiety than this therapist, A. remarked to me that maybe I could learn a thing or two through E.'s sessions. See, I most definitely suffer from anxiety too. (And I am trying to address it and will eventually, someday, when I'm sleeping again, read the cognitive behavioral therapy and Asperger's book we have.)
I recently received an email from E.'s school about their desire to form a green team and work on some initiatives. For those who know me, you'll recognize that environmental issues are high on my list of concerns. Which means that these are also something that cause me a fair amount of anxiety. For example: our local recycling does not take glass. The reason they gave when we first moved here is now moot, but they still do not take it and we haven't found a nearby place that will take it. I have a very hard time throwing out glass--it is so recyclable--so we have a bunch of it in the garage right now.
Anyway, one idea this email floated was that of "waste-free lunches." It's an idea I definitely support, something I try very hard to do for myself when I take my lunch someplace, but this is one of those times that my green desires conflict directly with my son's issues. Right now, E.'s lunch consists of the following: half a cream cheese sandwich, some pretzels, a protein bar, fruit snacks, and a bottle of water. The sandwich, pretzels, and water can all easily go to school in reuseable containers, but not so much the protein bar and fruit snacks. They are, of course, individually wrapped. My big victory, in regards to E., is that the fruit snacks are fruit-juice sweetened and don't contain any of the usual nasty stuff.
E. does not consistently eat everything in his lunchbox and usually requires a hefty snack when he gets home. But one thing I think a lot of parents of Aspies would say about their kids' eating issues is that you do NOT mess with something that is working. On occasion E. will eat every single thing in his lunchbox and, more importantly, he's not predictable on which specific items he'll eat on any one day. So we put them all in there and hope for the best.
So he's not going to have a waste-free lunch anytime soon, not unless I cut out half of what he'll eat. But now it's something I'll be fretting about until I can quiet that part of my thinking.
Before we realized that we would probably be able to do more for E.'s anxiety than this therapist, A. remarked to me that maybe I could learn a thing or two through E.'s sessions. See, I most definitely suffer from anxiety too. (And I am trying to address it and will eventually, someday, when I'm sleeping again, read the cognitive behavioral therapy and Asperger's book we have.)
I recently received an email from E.'s school about their desire to form a green team and work on some initiatives. For those who know me, you'll recognize that environmental issues are high on my list of concerns. Which means that these are also something that cause me a fair amount of anxiety. For example: our local recycling does not take glass. The reason they gave when we first moved here is now moot, but they still do not take it and we haven't found a nearby place that will take it. I have a very hard time throwing out glass--it is so recyclable--so we have a bunch of it in the garage right now.
Anyway, one idea this email floated was that of "waste-free lunches." It's an idea I definitely support, something I try very hard to do for myself when I take my lunch someplace, but this is one of those times that my green desires conflict directly with my son's issues. Right now, E.'s lunch consists of the following: half a cream cheese sandwich, some pretzels, a protein bar, fruit snacks, and a bottle of water. The sandwich, pretzels, and water can all easily go to school in reuseable containers, but not so much the protein bar and fruit snacks. They are, of course, individually wrapped. My big victory, in regards to E., is that the fruit snacks are fruit-juice sweetened and don't contain any of the usual nasty stuff.
E. does not consistently eat everything in his lunchbox and usually requires a hefty snack when he gets home. But one thing I think a lot of parents of Aspies would say about their kids' eating issues is that you do NOT mess with something that is working. On occasion E. will eat every single thing in his lunchbox and, more importantly, he's not predictable on which specific items he'll eat on any one day. So we put them all in there and hope for the best.
So he's not going to have a waste-free lunch anytime soon, not unless I cut out half of what he'll eat. But now it's something I'll be fretting about until I can quiet that part of my thinking.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
The terrible twos at six
In all the reading I've done on developmental delays and the like, I seem to remember coming across the idea that children who do not hit certain milestones at the expected time will go through them at a later date. I feel like we've been hitting at least a couple of these this summer.
As a toddler and preschooler, E. did not get into very much. We did some babyproofing before he could even crawl and then didn't get to much more. We always figured that we kept a pretty good eye on him and would be able to take care of any location that caught his fancy. We did not add any more latches, didn't need to. In retrospect, I suspect it is part of the Asperger's; since he tends to see the world from his own perspective only and just as it is presented to him, he simply didn't think to open drawers and doors and climb on things.
Similarly, he has not put on great displays of independence. Sure, he has learned to do more for himself, but his proclamations of "I can do it myself" have never been as frequent or vehement as one might expect from a preschooler, even as stubborn as he is.
That has changed a lot. He's into everything now. My mother-in-law has said that she never worried about leaving him for a short time, but now she knows that any amount of silence is not a good thing. At my sister's, he kept showing up with rolls of tape, taken surreptitiously from a particular drawer. When A. and I stocked up on medicines, in order to use up her flexible spending account before she was off payroll, I installed the first cabinet latch in our house--not because of the baby we were then hoping would be in our future, but because we worried that E. would be into it.
The past few days have added his loudly announced belief that he doesn't need me anymore. (Me specifically due to being the one who has denied him some things.) He's chafing at the bit and wanting to be bigger, older, able to do more.
While this may be developmentally appropriate for him at this point, it is more wearing than I imagine it would have been at 2 or 3 (or even 4). The combination of a couple more years and a creative mind is problematic. He can reach higher than before, even more so now that he's grown a couple inches this summer, and has the ability to plot out at least part of his action ahead of time. His idea of what constitutes independence is grander and more sweeping now--we've had to say no to the driving and remain insistent about holding hands (or finger, as he allowed this morning) when crossing certain streets.
Some good may come of this--he's suddenly interested in not wearing pull-ups at night since they're for babies--but I can't wait for the rest of this to pass.
As a toddler and preschooler, E. did not get into very much. We did some babyproofing before he could even crawl and then didn't get to much more. We always figured that we kept a pretty good eye on him and would be able to take care of any location that caught his fancy. We did not add any more latches, didn't need to. In retrospect, I suspect it is part of the Asperger's; since he tends to see the world from his own perspective only and just as it is presented to him, he simply didn't think to open drawers and doors and climb on things.
Similarly, he has not put on great displays of independence. Sure, he has learned to do more for himself, but his proclamations of "I can do it myself" have never been as frequent or vehement as one might expect from a preschooler, even as stubborn as he is.
That has changed a lot. He's into everything now. My mother-in-law has said that she never worried about leaving him for a short time, but now she knows that any amount of silence is not a good thing. At my sister's, he kept showing up with rolls of tape, taken surreptitiously from a particular drawer. When A. and I stocked up on medicines, in order to use up her flexible spending account before she was off payroll, I installed the first cabinet latch in our house--not because of the baby we were then hoping would be in our future, but because we worried that E. would be into it.
The past few days have added his loudly announced belief that he doesn't need me anymore. (Me specifically due to being the one who has denied him some things.) He's chafing at the bit and wanting to be bigger, older, able to do more.
While this may be developmentally appropriate for him at this point, it is more wearing than I imagine it would have been at 2 or 3 (or even 4). The combination of a couple more years and a creative mind is problematic. He can reach higher than before, even more so now that he's grown a couple inches this summer, and has the ability to plot out at least part of his action ahead of time. His idea of what constitutes independence is grander and more sweeping now--we've had to say no to the driving and remain insistent about holding hands (or finger, as he allowed this morning) when crossing certain streets.
Some good may come of this--he's suddenly interested in not wearing pull-ups at night since they're for babies--but I can't wait for the rest of this to pass.
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