We are in the home stretch.
The last days of school, before summer vacation.
I've been so busy that all of a sudden it hit me. Every year summer breezes in, bringing a flood of emotion for me. I think about how much the kids have learned, how far they have come since September. June is the time of year I am so proud my heart could burst.
This year is a big one. Kenzie is writing exams, finishing her first year of high school. Charlie is finishing Kindergarten - moving on to Grade one and full time enrollment. And Josh is graduating grade eight.
Josh is heading off to high school.
I remember years ago, getting Josh ready for school, and getting the school ready for Josh. Our first meeting with the school was the June before he started Kindergarten. John and I walked in the conference room, and were met with a room full of faces. The principal, the vice principal, the special education teacher, a representative from the Halton autism team, his nursery school teacher, and us. The janitor wasn't able to make it.
I made it through that first meeting without having an emotional breakdown. But rest assured, there have been a couple since. Over the years, I have learned (the hard way) that regardless of how frustrated, angry or afraid I may be at these meetings, anything other than breaking out in mild sweat takes away from our credibility as Josh's advocates.
Watching Josh grow up is like watching a child grow up in slow motion. He needed speech therapy to learn how to talk. A physical therapist came to the school to teach him balance and coordination, not that he would use these skills. For a long time Josh was pulled out of gym class so that he could receive one on one time with the special education teacher learning literacy skills. As he grew older, time was set aside for Josh to have basic social skills taught to him. He learned and mastered the incredible five point scale. A tool to help him identify his triggers and moods, so that his melt downs at school would almost disappear.
Once Josh reached the middle school years, the stakes got higher. Kids who tolerated, and were even friendly to him started to pull away as they fought for their own footing on the popularity ladder. Josh struggled with feelings of depression as he tried so hard to learn how to fit in. He calls this time in his life as "the blues."
To help him gain the teen social skills he needed, I got to work, trying to teach the skills that the rest of us take for granted. I made him a set of Pokemon social skills cards. Each card had one of his favorite Pokemon characters with a social skill he could learn from that character. For example the Charizard card: Charizard's fire burns hotter if he has experienced harsh battles. Be like Charizard and remember - some days are harsh, but they will make you stronger. And from the Jynx card: Jynx's cries sound like human speech, but no one can understand it. - sometimes people don't understand why you cry. Try using your words to resolve your conflicts. By the way, I recently found out the man who created Pokemon is on the autism spectrum.
Together we worked through The Social Success workbook for Teens. We read The Rules of Life and The Social Skill Picture Book for High School and Beyond. He learned skills like how to start conversations, how to know when someone isn't interested in your story, how to call a friend, and which urinal is the best to choose in a public washroom (not the one RIGHT beside the other dude.)
Every gain Josh has made he has worked for. Hard. Over the years, he has had some awesome teachers and educational assistants that have worked along side of Josh and our family. Thank you to the teachers who have made a difference in Josh's life. Each teacher had a slightly different approach, each one sparking new paths of knowledge in Josh.
I have hope and I am optimistic that in high school the teachers will see the same sweet boy who is struggling to fit in and understand. I have hope that the teachers in his new school will also make a difference.
Hope. It's kind of a scary thing, because hope offers no guarantees.
I have seen how far he has come. I have watched him grow. Like I said before, raising a child on the spectrum is like raising a child in slow motion. So even without a guarantee, I know at the end of the next four years he will become a kind, capable, independent young man. He may have to work harder than his peers, "the blues" may return, but I know he is on his way. Growing into himself at his own pace.
Isn`t that all any of us as parents can hope for?
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Once Josh reached the middle school years, the stakes got higher. Kids who tolerated, and were even friendly to him started to pull away as they fought for their own footing on the popularity ladder. Josh struggled with feelings of depression as he tried so hard to learn how to fit in. He calls this time in his life as "the blues."
To help him gain the teen social skills he needed, I got to work, trying to teach the skills that the rest of us take for granted. I made him a set of Pokemon social skills cards. Each card had one of his favorite Pokemon characters with a social skill he could learn from that character. For example the Charizard card: Charizard's fire burns hotter if he has experienced harsh battles. Be like Charizard and remember - some days are harsh, but they will make you stronger. And from the Jynx card: Jynx's cries sound like human speech, but no one can understand it. - sometimes people don't understand why you cry. Try using your words to resolve your conflicts. By the way, I recently found out the man who created Pokemon is on the autism spectrum.
Together we worked through The Social Success workbook for Teens. We read The Rules of Life and The Social Skill Picture Book for High School and Beyond. He learned skills like how to start conversations, how to know when someone isn't interested in your story, how to call a friend, and which urinal is the best to choose in a public washroom (not the one RIGHT beside the other dude.)
Every gain Josh has made he has worked for. Hard. Over the years, he has had some awesome teachers and educational assistants that have worked along side of Josh and our family. Thank you to the teachers who have made a difference in Josh's life. Each teacher had a slightly different approach, each one sparking new paths of knowledge in Josh.
I have hope and I am optimistic that in high school the teachers will see the same sweet boy who is struggling to fit in and understand. I have hope that the teachers in his new school will also make a difference.
Hope. It's kind of a scary thing, because hope offers no guarantees.
I have seen how far he has come. I have watched him grow. Like I said before, raising a child on the spectrum is like raising a child in slow motion. So even without a guarantee, I know at the end of the next four years he will become a kind, capable, independent young man. He may have to work harder than his peers, "the blues" may return, but I know he is on his way. Growing into himself at his own pace.
Isn`t that all any of us as parents can hope for?
