The Big Green Binder
A Preface: My life is not all autism, all the time. But this journal is my pressure valve for the things I need to say that can't always be said elsewhere, so it will be mostly autism, most of the time. I'm actually thinking of starting this over as a fresh blog on a different site, but I am weighing the importance of my family's privacy vs. my need to work through my feelings. Or whine and moan, you know, whatever you need to call it.
That said, on with the show!
We have a big fat green binder. It generally sits on the black IKEA bookcase in the front room of our house when I can remember to put it back where it belongs. It is easily as big as Gone With the Wind, War and Peace, pick your favorite long book reference and it is as thick and as big as that. It's not the unabridged OED, but it's big, okay?
One time when my sister-in-law (who is an awesome person by the way) came to visit and picked it off the shelf and said "oh is this a photo album?" with excitement and I said "not exactly. I do call it Thor's scrapbook, but it's just all his medical information." She opened it up and saw page after page of black and white text. "Oh." She and with a tinge of sadness put it down. I didn't mean to deflate her, but truthfully it deflates me a bit. Not just all the data written down explaining how and why my child is "wrong" but just the sheer amount of paper to organize.
When Thor first started working with a speech therapist she said, "you are going to need a binder to keep up with all his information." And I thought to myself "I'm going to need a binder? What is this 8th grade? Do I need to get some Lisa Frank folders and a pencil cup too? Jeepers Creepers." I thought a word much stronger than Jeepers Creepers, but I'll try to keep things clean here.
But she was right. Evaluations started coming in, one after the other, then the important one. Your child has autism. After that came updated evaluations (b/c we had been doing this for a while), all sorts of bureaucratic hoo-hah, and IEPs (Individualized Education Plans).
That is the big deal for now. This is the document that lays out for you, for the teacher, and the people who oversee Thor's education, what Thor's goals are for the classroom. They are updated every quarter and say things like "Thor will with 100% accuracy, touch the color red when verbally prompted on three out of five trials." That's not actually one of Thor's goals, but it is close enough to give you the flavor.
And I dug out the big green binder with a cup of coffee this morning and went over Thor's IEP to get prepared for the next parent teacher conference in a few weeks. And it was a little depressing.
It would be nice if it didn't feel any different than "Oh Jimmy got a C- in Social Studies, but he's got B+ in Math. Oh well, it all balances out. We just need to focus on reading comprehension for a while."
But the special ed model focuses on deficits. This is all done with every good intention in the world. These are people that want to help.
But it would be nice if there was room for:
"Thor said 'Woody' today when he was looking at his Toy Story cup."
"Thor gave his little brother a fist bump to say good night."
"Thor and I took turns imitating the evil chuckles of the bad green pigs in Angry Birds."
The victories, the accomplishments, the milestones are different with autism. They just are. But they are very, very sweet just the same.
That said, on with the show!
We have a big fat green binder. It generally sits on the black IKEA bookcase in the front room of our house when I can remember to put it back where it belongs. It is easily as big as Gone With the Wind, War and Peace, pick your favorite long book reference and it is as thick and as big as that. It's not the unabridged OED, but it's big, okay?
One time when my sister-in-law (who is an awesome person by the way) came to visit and picked it off the shelf and said "oh is this a photo album?" with excitement and I said "not exactly. I do call it Thor's scrapbook, but it's just all his medical information." She opened it up and saw page after page of black and white text. "Oh." She and with a tinge of sadness put it down. I didn't mean to deflate her, but truthfully it deflates me a bit. Not just all the data written down explaining how and why my child is "wrong" but just the sheer amount of paper to organize.
When Thor first started working with a speech therapist she said, "you are going to need a binder to keep up with all his information." And I thought to myself "I'm going to need a binder? What is this 8th grade? Do I need to get some Lisa Frank folders and a pencil cup too? Jeepers Creepers." I thought a word much stronger than Jeepers Creepers, but I'll try to keep things clean here.
But she was right. Evaluations started coming in, one after the other, then the important one. Your child has autism. After that came updated evaluations (b/c we had been doing this for a while), all sorts of bureaucratic hoo-hah, and IEPs (Individualized Education Plans).
That is the big deal for now. This is the document that lays out for you, for the teacher, and the people who oversee Thor's education, what Thor's goals are for the classroom. They are updated every quarter and say things like "Thor will with 100% accuracy, touch the color red when verbally prompted on three out of five trials." That's not actually one of Thor's goals, but it is close enough to give you the flavor.
And I dug out the big green binder with a cup of coffee this morning and went over Thor's IEP to get prepared for the next parent teacher conference in a few weeks. And it was a little depressing.
It would be nice if it didn't feel any different than "Oh Jimmy got a C- in Social Studies, but he's got B+ in Math. Oh well, it all balances out. We just need to focus on reading comprehension for a while."
But the special ed model focuses on deficits. This is all done with every good intention in the world. These are people that want to help.
But it would be nice if there was room for:
"Thor said 'Woody' today when he was looking at his Toy Story cup."
"Thor gave his little brother a fist bump to say good night."
"Thor and I took turns imitating the evil chuckles of the bad green pigs in Angry Birds."
The victories, the accomplishments, the milestones are different with autism. They just are. But they are very, very sweet just the same.