The Mother I Was and The Mother I Have Become

Have you ever heard the Indian fable about the seven blind mice and the elephant? Each of the mice explored a different part of the elephant and they each came away with a different description of the elephant. There was a moral to the story is a bit different than the moral to the story I want to tell today but the idea is somewhat the same. Ironically I have seven children in my story. I play the part of the elephant. Flattering, I know. 

All seven of my children would identify me as their mother. However, I am really not the same person to each one of them at all. If they were each asked to think back to their youngest memories and on into their elementary school years, they would have very different descriptions of their mother, yet they all had the same one. And if they were asked to describe the roles I play in their lives today, being all different ages, the descriptions would be vastly different.

My oldest four kids have memories of an energetic young mom who played kickball in the front yard, had Nerf gun wars, and could sit crossed-legged on the floor to dress a Barbie or build with Legos. They will remember a rule about movies. We only had G rated movies, no others were allowed. Their mom always seemed to have a toddler on her hip, and a baby on the way. She was always sleep-deprived and often grouchy because of it. The oldest would tell you that mom was strict and wanted to be obeyed immediately.  A clean house was very important to their mom and she cooked six nights a week.

The younger kids would probably listen to those stories and wonder just where their brothers and sisters had lived back then. These kids have never seen their mom kick a playground ball across the yard and run bases, shoot a Nerf gun, or sit cross-legged on the floor. The younger kids know an older mom who has issues with arthritis and moves pretty slow. They will remember a lot of nights when supper came from a can, a box, or a drive-thru window. And they will remember being able to watch a few PG rated movies while they were still in grade school. (Scandalous, I know.) Having an older mom is not the worst thing that could happen to a kid though. The younger kids will definitely remember a more patient mom who did not become stressed when the house was not clean or the kids did not obey the first time. Sure, I am the same person but… not really.

To two of my children I was a tutor and helped them with many of their assignments while the other kids will have little memory at all of mom sitting with them to do homework. It was not necessary. They managed quite well without help. Some of the kids loved to read and loved to be read to. Those children will recall lying in mom’s bed while she laughed hysterically at what Junie B Jones had just done. One of the boys was passionate about dinosaurs and he will remember that we spent a whole lot of time discussing those great beasts and trying to pronounce their names correctly. One of the girls was/is passionate about cows and tractors and we have spent many hours pouring over fun facts about farming and sitting at the cattle auction just for her pleasure.

The oldest children and the youngest two will remember a mom who volunteered in their classrooms in the primary grades and was often at the classroom parties. The children in the middle will not have those memories. The girls will remember a lot more play dates than the boys will as they played so quietly and did not require me to repair anything at the end of the day. The boys could definitely holler “discrimination” about this.

Five of the kids played baseball or softball in the summers when they were young and will have a picture in their mind of a mom in a lawn chair at practices, games, and tournaments. Two of the children will never associate their mother with a ball field at all. The oldest children will remember their mother having chickens that they had to help feed but not the younger ones. The older children will remember their mom taking them to swimming lessons but the younger children will remember a mom that taught them to swim in the pool we built in the backyard. Two of these kids might remember their mother with a joystick in her hand trying to learn to play video games. The rest of the children would say their mother had probably never held a joystick in her life. A couple of the children would remember a day their mother brought home eight different brands of hotdogs so they could have a blind taste test to settle a very important debate. Only one of the kids will have a memory of getting a pony on their birthday. That girl’s mom really came through for her!

All seven children will have some very similar memories. They will all be able to hear my voice in their mind, singing from the rocking chair. They will all remember their mom as their first Bible class teacher. They will all remember a mom who was crazy in love with their daddy.

I gave all seven children a good childhood but they did not all have the same childhood and I am learning to be okay with that. Not all my children had the same opportunity nor will they have all the same memories and has to be okay. I cannot recreate the older children’s childhood for the younger children, nor can I turn back the clock to make sure the older kids get every experience the younger children have now. Recently one of my oldest children returned home for a visit. He saw Lucky Charms in the pantry and did a double take. My rule for a lot of years was that I would not buy chocolate cereal or cereal containing marshmallows. He looked at me and said, “Mom. You’ve changed.” I said, “Yes. I have.”

I usually blog about autism or FAS but occasionally I like to talk about something else. If you liked this post then you might find the following to your liking as well. What Does A Good Mother Say?

Lost in the Translation

Years ago I met a lady who was preparing to move to a country where they spoke primarily Spanish. While she was still learning Spanish, she had to translate the words in her mind from English to Spanish or from Spanish to English because she “thought” in English. After being submerged in Spanish for a while she told me she thought and even dreamed in Spanish, rarely using English anymore. Her primary language had changed from English to Spanish. That amazed me.

April 2, 2015

English is my first language but I speak one other language. I have become very fluent in autism. Autism will never be my first language but it is my son’s primary language. I have to think fast and translate back and forth in my mind as I listen to my son speak. Autism is similar to English but the dialect of autism we speak is difficult for many people to understand. When a person who does not speak autism comes into my home they can become confused because of the language barrier that will exist for them. They will be able to pick up on many of the words and ideas but not everything, much like the lady who was just learning Spanish when she moved to the country where everyone else spoke it fluently.

My son walks into the room and says, “When there is no cereal, I eat toast.” I think quickly and realize he means that we have run out of his favorite cereal and he is hungry. He would like for me to make him some toast. I know what you are thinking: Why didn’t he just say, “Hey mom, can you make me some toast and would you put cereal on the grocery list?” Well, someone who uses English predominantly might do that. But my son Tate speaks autism as his first language. English is his second language and he just cannot quite master it. He leaves out a lot of details, expecting me to fill in all the blanks. He, like many with autism, believes I am having the same thoughts and feelings he is having. It is very frustrating to him when I cannot speak his language and he has to try and use mine. We often go round and round in circles.

Speaking of thoughts and feelings… the dialect of autism my son speaks does not allow him to put feelings into words. He cannot really let me know he is sad, angry, confused, frustrated, uncomfortable, or disappointed, with words. Recently Tate learned to ride a bike and that has been incorporated into his Physical Education class at school. Having his bike at school makes him very uncomfortable. He likes everything in its proper place. I do not know this because he has put that into words. I know that because he says things like, “It’s illegal to keep a bike at school!” and, “We ride bikes on Wednesdays for six weeks. How long ‘til we bring the bike home?”

First Shave

So, the cereal/toast and the bike at school examples were easy ones. Let me give you another example of just how hard it can be to translate if you do not speak my son’s language. I had mentioned a few times in recent months that Tate was going to need to start shaving soon. That must have made him nervous because he began telling me he wanted to grow a beard. What I did not think about was the only thing Tate knew about shaving was that his dad smears shaving cream all over his face to shave. Tate has sensory issues and I never intended to have him shave with cream and a razor. He hates textures like shaving cream. Had I thought about the language barrier I would have talked to Tate about using an electric razor. I bought an electric razor and he was happy to be shaved.  He has stopped talking to me about his desire to grow a beard now. It’s a good thing. He only had about two-dozen long whiskers.

Just as it is difficult to translate some words into another language, my son cannot seem to translate a few of our English words into his language. In English the word “homework” would be defined as something like: assignments a teacher gives their student to complete outside of class. That word is taboo at our house but not for the reason you might think. It is not necessarily about avoiding the math worksheet or memorizing the spelling words. Schoolwork is work you do at school. But you NEVER do schoolwork at home. THAT is the difference between speaking English and speaking autism. Some of the words or phrases just do not mean the same things.

Then there are all the misunderstandings that come with our language barrier sometimes. This evening Tate’s dad was praising him for doing something correctly. Shawn said, “Tate! You were ‘right on the money.’” Tate looked around quickly and said, “What money?” All those kinds of quotes and sayings have to be explained to Tate because English is not his first language. Autism is. Recently, we were out in the woods close to our home, burning some brush and cutting some firewood. I had a small fire going and Tate was helping me throw tree branches on the fire. I saw he had thrown some of our sticks of firewood into our fire. I said, "Oh Tate, don't throw those on the fire. That is the firewood we are cutting." As soon as I heard myself I laughed. Of course he was throwing FIREWOOD onto the fire. What else would it be used for? I had not explained to him the difference between the firewood we were saving and the tree branches we were burning. Sometimes I just forget the language barrier and assume he understands the language I speak. How could he? His first language is autism and he is still struggling to understand English. 

One of the things Tate says most is, “Oh Sorry.” I hear it all day long. If he drops something he says it. If I have to repeat an instruction he says it. If he changes his mind he says it. If he misunderstands something he says it. If I misunderstand him he says it. Sometimes he says it because he cannot find the right words to use to make me understand what he needs me to understand. In English, “sorry” is an apology for something done wrong. In my son’s language it seems to be an apology for his struggles. I feel so badly for him because, no matter how patient I am with him, he seems to feel the need to apologize. I can’t seem to make him understand that he does not need to be sorry, that he is like a hero to me. He is living in a foreign country where he can barely speak the language and there is no need to apologize for the things he cannot help. Sometimes the language barrier from English to autism and back really stinks. Sometimes I wish I had an interpreter. 

If you liked this post you might like: Speaking Tate's Language or Loosing Language and Finding It. 

The Things Autism Has Taught Me

Tate, age 13

Eight things autism has taught me

My thirteen-year-old son, Tate, has autism. I’ve said often over the last ten years that I hate autism but rarely have I said that autism has been a good teacher. I have learned much from it. I am a better parent and a better person because of autism.

1. Autism has taught me compassion and empathy on a level I never understood before. Watching my son wrestle with his anxiety and knowing he does not understand much of the world around him causes my heart to ache more deeply than I knew was possible.

2. Autism has taught me patience. I have never been a patient person but I almost never lose my patience with Tate.

The whole Smith family, December, 2014

3. Autism has taught me humility. After raising older children that excelled at almost anything they tried, I had become somewhat conceited. I have found it very humbling to sit in the office of school administrators and beg for the help my son needs. I have found it very humbling to have to explain my son’s behaviors to strangers. I see now that I was arrogant, and humbling is exactly what I needed. I am thankful I have been humbled.

4. Autism has taught me that “one size fits all” does not apply to parenting. Children with special needs sometimes need special parenting.

Tate, aged four at his early intervention preschool

5. Autism has taught me a lot about hard work. Autism has moved me to pursue every avenue of help for my son that I can. Autism has called me to be much more involved in my child’s education and has often meant I had to study and fight for the things he needs. 

6. Autism has taught me that hard work pays off. Early intervention was intensive and exhausting but the gains we saw were huge and well worth all the extensive time and effort we exerted. 

7. Autism has taught me not to let my guard down, because although MOST people are kind and can be trusted, not ALL people have pure motives. People with special needs can be easily victimized so a parent must be diligent and watchful.

8. Autism has taught me that people with special needs have a lot to offer. I used to be intimidated by people with special needs. I now know they are just people who might take a little longer to respond or need a little more help to get things done. But they are people and their lives have as much value as mine or anyone else’s. 

If you have someone in your life with a disability, search for the lessons you can learn. As you help that person to be the best they can be, you will likely find yourself becoming better and stronger as well.

If you liked this post, you might also like these:

Man sized jumps

Losing Language and Finding It

Paraprofessionals: Angels Among Us

I was asked to write a post about the qualities of a good paraprofessional (para). I could hardly do that without saying a few things about the super paras Tate has known.

When you have a young child with an IEP in public school, the paraprofessional is often the person with the most influence in his life for the school day. Yet, those valuable people are paid the least, frequently taken for granted, and given almost no voice sometimes. It is an upside down world we live in. If there was a Paraprofessional Hall of fame, some of the folks I am about to tell you about would have a plaque there.

Tate and Sydney with Shelly

When Tate began school, we stepped into an ideal situation in some ways. A Kansas University student who had been working with Tate in a preschool setting needed to spend a semester in a public school setting to fulfill her graduation requirements. She applied for the job as Tate’s para and was hired. Shelly was not a traditional student. She had kids and she knew first hand what it was like to have a son with autism. Her son was older than Tate and nonverbal. Because of Shelly, the transition from Tate’s private early intervention program to public school went very well. Shelly already knew Tate’s strengths and weaknesses. She was energetic, excited, and fun. Kids were drawn to her like moths to a light. Social skills teaching opportunities abounded. If playing with Tate meant they got to be with Shelly, the kids were always willing.

In my opinion, Shelly knew far more about autism than anyone else in the school building that year but no matter how many times I asked, I was not allowed to bring her into our IEP meetings or ask for her input. The reasons are not really valid ones in my mind. There was: Paras do not have the education teachers do. And: It would violate your child’s privacy. Then: We need the para with your child during the meeting. And of course: We are not required by law to allow it. I don’t know how many times I heard about how highly qualified my son’s para was but when it was time for the IEP meeting the para was not qualified “enough” to have a voice.

Tate's wonderful Miss Grace,
2nd grade

The next Para who made a real impact for us was Miss Grace. I smile just typing her name. She made learning fun. She often went far beyond her paid duties to help make a real difference in Tate’s life. In first and second grade, Tate cried often in the morning because he did not want to go to school. A reminder that Miss Grace would be waiting for him could sometimes turn him around. Miss Grace is beautiful and Tate was enamored. She could cajole Tate into touching finger paints or clay, and doing a lot of activities he disliked. Miss Grace really got to know Tate and she genuinely liked him. She is very outgoing, taught him a lot about teasing, and she was with Tate as a coach through many of those playground interactions with his peers that his IEP called for. Grace is likely responsible for much of the social progress Tate made in the primary grades. To this day when we run into her in the community, she can engage Tate in twenty minutes of active conversation without breaking a sweat. I am his mother and I can rarely do that. Miss Grace has a gift and I will forever be grateful she shared it with us.

Tate was without para support for a while in third grade and substitutes were coming and going. One day I happened to be at the school when a new sub showed up. His name was Richie. I did not know it at the time but Mr. Richie was to become my hero. In the paragraph above, I said that I smiled when I typed Miss Grace’s name. My vision actually blurred with tears when I typed Richie’s name. Mr. Richie was everything we needed and has made a life-long impact on us. I can imagine we will still be referring to Mr. Richie when Tate is old and gray.

Mr. Richie and Tate, 3rd grade

There was a bit of an ironic beginning though. Richie is black, and Tate in his younger years had been quite racist, much to our embarrassment. Tate was not taught this by example I can assure you! Like many other irrational fears that come with autism, Tate was uneasy around “brown skinned people” in his own words. The first day Mr. Richie showed up, I walked over to the teacher to warn her Tate would likely be rude and even fearful. But thankfully, I don’t think Tate ever noticed Richie’s skin color. If he did I never heard about it from anyone. And if Tate had been rude, Richie probably quietly laughed about it, understanding that autism often causes misperceptions. Richie just “got it” from the very beginning.

Tate with Mr. Richie, 4th grade

If I were limited to two words to describe Richie, they would be: “autism whisperer.” But fortunately I can say much more. Mr. Richie was with Tate for much of third grade, all of fourth, and all of fifth grade. Mr. Richie has a huge presence but I don’t know how he does it because he is one of the quietest guys I know. He taught Tate to do things no one else was having any luck at. Mr. Richie always seemed to know what Tate was thinking. He could talk Tate down from a meltdown as well as I could have myself. Maybe better. He was firm yet kind. Academically Tate did very well with Mr. Richie at his side too. Richie was good at getting Tate to try new activities and foods. Tate wanted to please Richie because he cared about what Richie thought. THAT is huge in our world. Tate does not show much affection or appear to have much interest in many people other than family; but he connected with Mr. Richie. Mr. Richie taught Tate many social skills. That lunch buddy program I am always blogging about had a waiting list because the kids loved eating with Mr. Richie probably much more than they liked helping with Tate! (Tate's Lunch Buddy Program Described)

Several times Tate got frustrated enough with Richie to say, “You are fired!” Once was when Tate had become obsessed with his watch. He used his watch as a visual stim and would stare at his watch to see the numbers change when he should have been doing his classwork. Richie occasionally had to take the watch away from Tate. No one but Richie could have taken that watch and still gotten Tate past the meltdown and refocused on the task at hand. Autism whisperer, I’m telling you.

Team Tate is amazing

The Junior High transition had the potential to be a real nightmare but in stepped an amazing new para named Miss A. She is young, full of enthusiasm, always has a smile, and is as much a friend to Tate as she is a teacher. I do not think sixth grade would have gone half as well as it did without Miss A. This year Tate has Miss A with him part of the day but he has also graduated to rotating through Paras as he goes from class to class. There are four total and I like all four of them! More importantly, Tate likes them all and they are really good with him. 

I understand that not everyone has the experiences that our family has had with wonderful, caring paraprofessionals. I’ve heard stories from teachers and other parents, of paras who hurt or neglected their child. One teacher told me of a para who slept through parts of their day in her classroom. I hope those are the exceptions and most people are having the kinds of experiences we have had.

And that brings me to the topic I was asked to write about: What makes a good paraprofessional? Of course many of the qualities of a good para are obvious. A para needs to be kind and compassionate, enjoy children, and have a good attitude-- even when the job is messy or hard. The para must be able to teach at the grade level of the child they are helping. If a para is helping in the high school in an algebra class but cannot do algebra then no one is going to benefit. A para should be physically fit enough to stick with the child they have been assigned to work with. Tate needed social skills coaching on the playground when he was in elementary school. Tate also required para support in PE at times. His para was sometimes called on to run up and down a soccer field or play kickball. Some kids with autism have elopement issues too. A para needs to be able to keep their young charge safe.

Then there are qualities that might not be so obvious. A sense of humor will sure come in handy. It is important not to take it personally when a child with autism says what they think. Many times Tate has reported to one of the adults in his world that their skin is a bit wrinkly or they are getting up there in years. Sometimes these kids are funny! Enjoy them! I love it when I get a note from one of my kids’ teachers sharing something fun they have said or done. I will add this disclaimer, before I get messages: Of course, there is a difference between laughing about something kids say or do, and laughing at them in a mean-spirited way.

A para should not be squeamish. A person hired to work with a handicapped child should not be afraid of sticky fingers, sneezes, drool, or puddles of any other bodily fluids. A para might be called upon to teach a child to: blow their nose, comb their hair, use a fork, button, zip, tie, wipe or wash, among many other things. A para might be asked to teach using: water, sand, dirt, clay, shaving cream, paint, or many other substances.

A para may need to learn sign language, braille, or other skills just so they can work with one student. My kids’ paras have had to do some things they may have never considered when they applied for the job. Some skills might seem insignificant yet make a big difference for the child. One para has spent hours of hard work teaching my little girl to play one song on the recorder. The other students in her class were onto much harder pieces by the time my daughter mastered that first song: Hot Cross Buns. The para was probably hearing that awful whistle in her dreams at night due to all the time it took, but she was so patient. I had given up all hope of Sydney mastering that song but the para had not. I had even asked Sydney’s teacher if they could just “skip” the recorder but Sydney insisted she wanted to learn to play that recorder, just like her peers. Because of the tenacity and patience of one para, Sydney can proudly play that song. 

Students with special needs can have a lot of energy. Of course some are even hyperactive. On the other hand, students with special needs can be inactive and very slow moving. Either way a para will need to have a lot of energy. My daughter Sydney has ADHD and is hard to keep up with, while my son Tate moves at a snail’s pace. When Tate was in preschool, a teacher once told me she always had an energy drink before working one-on-one with Tate because she needed enough energy for both of them. The more fun and alive she was, the more engaged Tate would be. I’ve never forgotten that. She made a really good point. Paras need to be very engaging; no matter how hard their pupil is to engage.

Sometimes a para has to spend a lot of time taking data and doing paperwork. For many parents, the note they send home is very important and cannot be neglected. (Click here to read about that invaluable note home.) It is a parent’s link to school and helps them to know what their child is working on and how they can help. The data a para is sometimes called upon to collect may seem a waste of time but is very important in determining what kind of help the student will receive. Sometimes a para may not appreciate what is asked of them but they are required to do it anyway. A para must be able to “grin and bear it.”

Paras will be called upon to make personal sacrifices on occasion. A para might be asked to do something minor, like discontinue the use of perfumes so a child with sensory needs can be more comfortable. But bigger sacrifices are asked too. Some paras go home with bruises. There are students who exhibit self-injurious behavior and some who become violent. Paras have to be able to keep the student safe or even defend themselves without returning any aggression. And it all has to be done while staying calm.

Who are these people we ask so much of and pay so little? Who are these people who love our kids and see their potential? Who are these people who have to implement all those “great ideas” our kid’s teams think up while we are in those IEP meetings? Who are these people who keep coming back for more? They are “angels among us” and they are called paraprofessionals. They make a difference in our children's lives every day in little ways that we will never even realize. They make a big difference in our children's lives and whole family's lives in the end too. They help make our children who they become. There would never be enough money or words to reward these people the way they ought to be rewarded. 

Posts you might enjoy: An IEP Tutorial or 12 Things I'd Like My Son's Teacher to Know About Autism