Or, at least, another video post:
The Kid competed in his first Karate Tournament yesterday. I think he did fantastically well, except I guess when he almost punched his judge!
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Happy Things Do Happen
The Kid went to a birthday party today. He had a great time swimming and playing with his friends. I got to talk to some amazing moms that I truly enjoy. Good things all around.
And then there's this video below. I meant to take a still photo, but I accidentally had my camera stuck on video. My camera doesn't do sound, so watching this, I almost expect to hear the sounds of a movie projector, and The Kid's movements kind of look like something straight off of an old wind-up movie camera like my uncle had. Anyway, it's very cute...
And then there's this video below. I meant to take a still photo, but I accidentally had my camera stuck on video. My camera doesn't do sound, so watching this, I almost expect to hear the sounds of a movie projector, and The Kid's movements kind of look like something straight off of an old wind-up movie camera like my uncle had. Anyway, it's very cute...
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
There better be no school like the old school!
We're done. We're not going back.
Today was my last meeting with the folks at The Kid's school, which is now his former school, which is exactly how I want it to be...
His IEP was up for renewal last week, and today was the IEP annual meeting. I couldn't be happier to leave that bunch of people. In the end, my advocate I've been using counted at least 5 IEP violations over the course of the last month.
I've never not said that The Kid is a tough kid to have in a classroom. I just wish that they had communicated with me better, and that they had shown him more empathy.
In the end, they wrote in his IEP horribly inaccurate things. They said that he is a "student" for only 2% of the day. By my math, that is 8 minutes in a day. Other parts of the same document say that when he is effectively calmed down he participates in classroom instruction for 15 minutes at a time, and that that happens "several times in a day." So, going on that, we're up to 45 minutes a day, or a little over 10% of the day, so there's a discrepancy for you, albeit small. They also pull him out of class at least once an hour or so to take "sensory breaks" even though he is not labled with sensory integration issues, so a great deal of his time out of the classroom, not being a "student" is due to their "service time." This service time includes playing on the playground with a para. Great therapy.
They also mentioned that he displayed "obscene gestures," which I'd never been told about before. When I asked about them today, they said that he flipped them off. First, I secretly gave The Kid a high five in my mind. Then, flabbergasted, asked how often that happened and they answered only once. I really don't know why that had to be in the IEP, when of all the things that this child IS consistent with regarding the typical behaviors of a bipolar child, obscene or foul-mouthed is definitely NOT one of them.
They also gave him free rein to go to the social worker's office or the principal's office whenever he needed to calm himself. Now they are telling me that he would leave the classroom, and that was a major behavior problem in his day. They had trained him, however, that when the going got tough for him, he was supposed to go to the office. I just don't understand how they could expect The Kid to know when it would be appropriate or not appropriate to go to the office if they told him he could go down to the office whenever he needed to.
I could go on and on, but I need to say good bye to it all, and let it go. Ultimately, they are very poorly equipped to teach The Kid. I pray and I hope that this new school can.
Today was my last meeting with the folks at The Kid's school, which is now his former school, which is exactly how I want it to be...
His IEP was up for renewal last week, and today was the IEP annual meeting. I couldn't be happier to leave that bunch of people. In the end, my advocate I've been using counted at least 5 IEP violations over the course of the last month.
I've never not said that The Kid is a tough kid to have in a classroom. I just wish that they had communicated with me better, and that they had shown him more empathy.
In the end, they wrote in his IEP horribly inaccurate things. They said that he is a "student" for only 2% of the day. By my math, that is 8 minutes in a day. Other parts of the same document say that when he is effectively calmed down he participates in classroom instruction for 15 minutes at a time, and that that happens "several times in a day." So, going on that, we're up to 45 minutes a day, or a little over 10% of the day, so there's a discrepancy for you, albeit small. They also pull him out of class at least once an hour or so to take "sensory breaks" even though he is not labled with sensory integration issues, so a great deal of his time out of the classroom, not being a "student" is due to their "service time." This service time includes playing on the playground with a para. Great therapy.
They also mentioned that he displayed "obscene gestures," which I'd never been told about before. When I asked about them today, they said that he flipped them off. First, I secretly gave The Kid a high five in my mind. Then, flabbergasted, asked how often that happened and they answered only once. I really don't know why that had to be in the IEP, when of all the things that this child IS consistent with regarding the typical behaviors of a bipolar child, obscene or foul-mouthed is definitely NOT one of them.
They also gave him free rein to go to the social worker's office or the principal's office whenever he needed to calm himself. Now they are telling me that he would leave the classroom, and that was a major behavior problem in his day. They had trained him, however, that when the going got tough for him, he was supposed to go to the office. I just don't understand how they could expect The Kid to know when it would be appropriate or not appropriate to go to the office if they told him he could go down to the office whenever he needed to.
I could go on and on, but I need to say good bye to it all, and let it go. Ultimately, they are very poorly equipped to teach The Kid. I pray and I hope that this new school can.
Monday, October 09, 2006
I Happen To Like The Roller Coaster...
I took The Kid to Elitches this weekend. By all accounts, it was a fabulous time. I even got that little guy to ride the Twister. He was scared to death on the big hill that starts the roller coaster, and I honestly thought that I was the worst mother in the entire universe for talking him into riding it. But then the speed picked up, and we were up and over and around and through and The Kid was squeeling with delight. Phew.
In all we had a fabulous time and all of the troubles of the week were thoroughly girated out of my body. The Kid had fun too. He and I even had the most reasonable talk about the latest bad news from the school over $7 french fries and a soda at the park, and I told him about what to expect next week. We even talked a bit about how all this anger is hard on his cousins and his friends. It was heartbreaking, but it was also a heart-to-heart, which is invaluable.
Sometimes I forget how serious all of this is. The school and IEP violations they've committed have been perfect opportunities for my attentions and focus and anger to be directed at a source firmly outside of my own home. The bottom line however is that The Kid has a very serious, diagnosable mental illness and we're going to be on this bumpy ride for a long, long time. No scapegoat will get us out of that. Amusements are good for affirmation, however, and weekends are priceless for our sanity.
I'm happy to say that The Kid's personality is back. He is still doing that scary stretching thing and I will be calling his doctor tomorrow with those concerns. She swears they aren't tardive diskenesia, a disorder caused by psychiatric medications (she says the movements are not the same), but I'm scared shitless nonetheless.
The Kid has been suspended from his school, and so is heading back to my mom's house for the next three days. I don't even completely understand what happened at the school that caused the suspension, but I believe that it was: a) serious, and b) what they probably should have done instead of giving us that ultimatum of SIED program vs. no school, so at least they are kind of following the rules so far. This also means that this suspension will end on Thursday and he will start a new school that day. I've chosen a school, and all seems to be adequately promising. In all honesty, however, I'm too wary to be optimistic any more. I just hope the new school knows more about how to work with kids like The Kid. And I hope they are willing to try and learn new things if they don't.
I still don't know if they suspended him correctly or if they've broken other areas of disability law. Last week they tallied about 2 IEP/ADA/IDEA violations, so suspending him pretty much got them off of the hook next week, meaning, if he's not at school, they can't break the law anymore. Plus, The Kid won't be there anymore, so their lives are all going to go back to their perfectly normal and insidiously boring ways, which I understand they prefer. Who wouldn't?
We had our meeting last Tuesday and it was grueling to say the least. I stayed calm and stood my ground. The fangs only ever came out while my mouth was firmly closed, so I did no harm by losing my temper or presenting myself as the angry mama bear which can so terribly cloud discussions like that. I got the school to agree to strike entirely the IEP addendum which they illegally wrote. The Kid's annual review of his IEP was up on 10/3, so I obviously granted them an extension and they will have to write an official IEP. Whatever, I'm sure they'll do a bang up job of it. The beauty here is that I will have it written into their IEP that it must be re-written by the new school 30 days after he enters the new school, so all will change fairly quickly. Now, in preparing the new IEP, they obtained test data without my consent, so they're in trouble again, but it's really not my concern anymore. I've been assured by my advocate and by district personnel that the school is being investigated and will be somehow made to deal with their lack of training in these issues.
I really don't care anymore. Because there's a much bigger picture here: My BOY! He's sick! He needs care and time and understanding and most of all help. And that school was not helping, nor would they have helped at this time, even if they filled out every form pertaining to his disability at the right time. They can't do it. I sure hope the new school can.
In all we had a fabulous time and all of the troubles of the week were thoroughly girated out of my body. The Kid had fun too. He and I even had the most reasonable talk about the latest bad news from the school over $7 french fries and a soda at the park, and I told him about what to expect next week. We even talked a bit about how all this anger is hard on his cousins and his friends. It was heartbreaking, but it was also a heart-to-heart, which is invaluable.
Sometimes I forget how serious all of this is. The school and IEP violations they've committed have been perfect opportunities for my attentions and focus and anger to be directed at a source firmly outside of my own home. The bottom line however is that The Kid has a very serious, diagnosable mental illness and we're going to be on this bumpy ride for a long, long time. No scapegoat will get us out of that. Amusements are good for affirmation, however, and weekends are priceless for our sanity.
I'm happy to say that The Kid's personality is back. He is still doing that scary stretching thing and I will be calling his doctor tomorrow with those concerns. She swears they aren't tardive diskenesia, a disorder caused by psychiatric medications (she says the movements are not the same), but I'm scared shitless nonetheless.
The Kid has been suspended from his school, and so is heading back to my mom's house for the next three days. I don't even completely understand what happened at the school that caused the suspension, but I believe that it was: a) serious, and b) what they probably should have done instead of giving us that ultimatum of SIED program vs. no school, so at least they are kind of following the rules so far. This also means that this suspension will end on Thursday and he will start a new school that day. I've chosen a school, and all seems to be adequately promising. In all honesty, however, I'm too wary to be optimistic any more. I just hope the new school knows more about how to work with kids like The Kid. And I hope they are willing to try and learn new things if they don't.
I still don't know if they suspended him correctly or if they've broken other areas of disability law. Last week they tallied about 2 IEP/ADA/IDEA violations, so suspending him pretty much got them off of the hook next week, meaning, if he's not at school, they can't break the law anymore. Plus, The Kid won't be there anymore, so their lives are all going to go back to their perfectly normal and insidiously boring ways, which I understand they prefer. Who wouldn't?
We had our meeting last Tuesday and it was grueling to say the least. I stayed calm and stood my ground. The fangs only ever came out while my mouth was firmly closed, so I did no harm by losing my temper or presenting myself as the angry mama bear which can so terribly cloud discussions like that. I got the school to agree to strike entirely the IEP addendum which they illegally wrote. The Kid's annual review of his IEP was up on 10/3, so I obviously granted them an extension and they will have to write an official IEP. Whatever, I'm sure they'll do a bang up job of it. The beauty here is that I will have it written into their IEP that it must be re-written by the new school 30 days after he enters the new school, so all will change fairly quickly. Now, in preparing the new IEP, they obtained test data without my consent, so they're in trouble again, but it's really not my concern anymore. I've been assured by my advocate and by district personnel that the school is being investigated and will be somehow made to deal with their lack of training in these issues.
I really don't care anymore. Because there's a much bigger picture here: My BOY! He's sick! He needs care and time and understanding and most of all help. And that school was not helping, nor would they have helped at this time, even if they filled out every form pertaining to his disability at the right time. They can't do it. I sure hope the new school can.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
You Sure Look Lovely In The Moonlight...
An additional side effect of The Kid's meds that is troubling me that I don't think I've written about yet is insomnia. Or at least, severe difficulty falling asleep. One night last week, The Kid was up well past midnight, just completely unable to sleep. Finally, about an hour after a second teaspoon of benedryl, he passed out.
He's had such a hard time falling asleep, I've pulled out his old lullaby CD that we listened to for approximately 2 years when he was a baby. Tonight, even that didn't work, so I went back in to his room, and asked him to think about something calm and happy. Dumb suggestion, as Mr. Anxiety could in no way see beyond the fact that he was still awake and it was stressing him out. So, I asked if I could talk to him about a calm, happy memory. I suggested talking about a hike in the mountains, which he was not a fan of. He suggested Halloween, which I was not about to start talking to a boy who needed to be calmed down about the spookiest night of the year, aka, the only day of the year wherein you can go ask people for candy and they will actually give it to you.
I asked him if he could think of anything else he'd like me to talk about. Sweetly, he said, what about when I was a baby? I turned to goo. Of course I'll talk about when he was a baby. Any time.
I told him how we used to go downstairs to the bedroom, I'd play his CD and give him some milk. That I'd rub his back just like I'm doing now, and rub his head, too. I told him how I would listen to the sounds outside, the snow, the neighbor's windchime, and how sometimes I would sing to him. He asked, "Can you sing me one of those songs now?"
The puddle of goo I already was turned to goo.
So, I sang him my favorite. The one that was not written about being a single grad student living a nice single grad student life and finding out that you were going to have a baby and then being given the most challenging, least like my own personality child I could have imagined, but it could have been:
And now he's asleep. The key to all of this is to remember that no matter what happens, no matter what drugs he's on or therapy he's undertaking, or letters of complaint I have to write, or hours of my weekend spent working from home or battles I have to don my suit of armor for, he's my baby. Always and forever. He's why I'm here, today, being the person that I am.
He's had such a hard time falling asleep, I've pulled out his old lullaby CD that we listened to for approximately 2 years when he was a baby. Tonight, even that didn't work, so I went back in to his room, and asked him to think about something calm and happy. Dumb suggestion, as Mr. Anxiety could in no way see beyond the fact that he was still awake and it was stressing him out. So, I asked if I could talk to him about a calm, happy memory. I suggested talking about a hike in the mountains, which he was not a fan of. He suggested Halloween, which I was not about to start talking to a boy who needed to be calmed down about the spookiest night of the year, aka, the only day of the year wherein you can go ask people for candy and they will actually give it to you.
I asked him if he could think of anything else he'd like me to talk about. Sweetly, he said, what about when I was a baby? I turned to goo. Of course I'll talk about when he was a baby. Any time.
I told him how we used to go downstairs to the bedroom, I'd play his CD and give him some milk. That I'd rub his back just like I'm doing now, and rub his head, too. I told him how I would listen to the sounds outside, the snow, the neighbor's windchime, and how sometimes I would sing to him. He asked, "Can you sing me one of those songs now?"
The puddle of goo I already was turned to goo.
So, I sang him my favorite. The one that was not written about being a single grad student living a nice single grad student life and finding out that you were going to have a baby and then being given the most challenging, least like my own personality child I could have imagined, but it could have been:
Life was a song, You came along
I've laid awake the whole night through
If I ever dared to think you'd care
This is what I'd say to you:
You were meant for me
And I was meant for you
Nature patterned you
And when she was done
You were all the sweet things rolled up in one
You're like a plaintive melody that never lets me free
But I'm content
The angels must have sent you
And they meant you just for me...
And now he's asleep. The key to all of this is to remember that no matter what happens, no matter what drugs he's on or therapy he's undertaking, or letters of complaint I have to write, or hours of my weekend spent working from home or battles I have to don my suit of armor for, he's my baby. Always and forever. He's why I'm here, today, being the person that I am.
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