Unclear on Yes or No, Following Body Language

Robert’s speech therapist from his summer program noticed that Robert still has a lot of problems with answering “yes and no” questions. However, she also observed, that when” yes and no” questions are asked outside of the therapy sessions  in “natural” school environment, Robert makes fewer errors.

For the last few days, I have been practicing with Robert these questions using sets from Functional Language Workbook of Activities for Language and Cognition  by Leslie Bilik-Thompson and I have to confirm that Robert’s responses have been erratic.  He answers yes and no haphazardly, switches from one answer to another while simultaneously he is paying extremely close attention to the tiniest movements of the muscles on my face.  I know I do something to my face when I think about the proper response to  yes or no, and Robert can read that.  I don’t know how Robert can decipher and interpret  almost invisible tension of the muscles around my jaw, or around my eyes, but he he clearly decodes when they tell, “yes” and when they say, “NO.”  This uncanny skills demonstrates  itself mainly during our teaching sessions.  Robert wants to answer what I want to hear.  Even if the answer is in his head, he doesn’t bother to retrieve it from there.  He wants to find clues on my face.

I realized that a few years ago.  I thought I addressed this problem by camouflaging correct answer by thinking about the wrong one.  When the  answer was  “yes” I tried to think about “No” and Robert answered, “No”.  When I shifted my thinking from yes to no, Robert followed changing his responses from  “yes to no”.

The second observation made by the speech pathologist, that Robert makes less errors in “natural” settings , allowed me to  realize to what degree, “one to one” arrangement of a teaching environment  reinforced Robert’s ability  to read facial expressions and, sadly,  prevented him from relying on his brain. It is not a surprise that this problem  presents itself most evidently during exercises with “yes and no” questions.  It is not new, however.

In my old post Teaching as Dismantling, I described the first time I encountered this problem when Robert was 3 years old.  Based on unnoticeable to anybody else movements of my hands, he pointed correctly to twelve animals.  At that time he did not have any receptive language and he certainly did not know what toucans or walruses were. I understood that as long as Robert would base his answers on the wrong set of cues, he won’t learn reading appropriate cues.  I knew it then, and I know it now.

I tried to address that issue in many ways.  When the response to the question is a noun, a verb or a two or three words phrase, Robert makes less errors, as difficulties in reading my expressions prevent him from relying on them.  I learned to lower my head, cover my mouth, turned away.  But,  with “Yes and NO”  it is much harder.

I asked Robert to close his eyes while listening to the question and answering it, but his anxiety interfered with such a great idea and made it useless.  I tried to hide half of my face behind a book.  Robert became even more tense and tried to read my eyes.

If the “desk” teaching is not extended  to  “natural” settings, Robert won’t find a reason to consult his brain to help him find proper replies.  In one on one setting Robert’s the purpose in answering is not to find an answer which matches his prior knowledge of the world but to make his teacher happy.  And to make the teacher happy, Robert has to read the answers off his teacher’s face.

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by krymarh on July 23, 2013  •  Permalink
Posted in Prompt Dependency, Teaching Out of Autism
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Posted by krymarh on July 23, 2013

https://krymarh.com/2013/07/23/unclear-on-yes-or-no-following-body-language/

On Coffee, English Muffin, and Nature of Numbers

Saturday, July 20

Robert woke up a few minutes after me. His dad was still sleeping.  I was going to make our morning espresso but  decided to ask Robert to do it instead.   Although he has never made it before, he already knew more or less how to set it up; just the details were a little murky.  He put slightly too much coffee and thus had to clean the brim.  He did not put enough water, so he had to add more,  up to the white line.  He spilled a little and he did not tighten the top lid.   I helped him hold the cups to make frosted milk.  When coffee was ready, I asked him to tell dad.  He went to the bedroom, but did not say anything.  Maybe because he did not know what to say or how to say it or maybe he did not want to interrupt his father’s sleep.  Two hours later I asked Robert to make another espresso for us. He  set the espresso machine again, but he was not as happy as when he was doing it for the first time.  Maybe he already began to understand that what seemed excited and new might soon change into another boring obligation and he was not yet sure how he felt about it.

He made himself an English muffin for breakfast.  I reminded him to push  20 seconds on a microwave  to defrost the muffin and so he did.  Later,  he cut it in half,  toasted it, and ate it in a less than a minute.

A Few days ago, I gave him the same advice, but as I turned away to do something else, Robert entered 20 minutes instead of 20 seconds.  I stopped microwave after more than 2 minutes when the muffin was already boiling.

This is one of those (MY) errors which come from not understanding WHAT Robert knows and HOW he knows it.  I assumed that since he knows what 20 is, he would enter 20 seconds.  Instead he entered 20 minutes, as he is mostly using minutes to bake his potatoes.

A few times in the past, I demonstrated to Robert how to make his muffin, but he has never been fully independent. I should have been  watching Robert making his muffin for as long as he completes the whole process without an error.  I have never done that. Instead I assumed that a few incomplete demonstrations, and a general knowledge of what number 20 is, would suffice.  But, as Robert reminded me, in  real life number 20 doesn’t exist if it is not connected to real objects or units, and those might be as different as seconds are different from  minutes.

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by krymarh on July 21, 2013  •  Permalink
Posted in Teaching Out of Autism

Posted by krymarh on July 21, 2013

https://krymarh.com/2013/07/21/as-of-today-8/

On Long Division and Unexpected Vindication

Robert’s teacher from his summer program, Mrs. B ,  did not realize what effect her words had on me when during our first phone conversation she stated that Robert’s math skills were  quite  good  and that he performed long division tasks very well.

I was stunned.  I needed to catch my breath and find appropriate words to answer.  The only thing that came to mind was to ask how Robert writes a reminder – as a whole number after letter R, or as a fraction.

Mrs. B. said, “Fraction.”

I caught my breath and we continued the conversation.

I was not surprised that Robert could do long division with only occasional errors.  He practiced that skill diligently for many  months.  We used Delta Section of  Math U See practice books  and I made many worksheets to help Robert place a dividend between two multiples of the divisor. I wrote about it in What About Reminder

What stunned me was the fact that Robert’s teacher noticed his skills and shared her positive observation with me. The teacher acted as if she found the ability to divide important.

For reasons I cannot understand or explain, my son’s educators from his regular program seemed  oblivious to those of Robert’s academic skills that were above the limits they placed on his abilities.  They neither could accept them, nor negate them, so they undermined their usefulness.   To do so, they used the concept of “functional skills”. For Robert, division was not a functional skill. Reading maps, learning calendar, understanding stories weren’t functional either.  Not for him.  He was too low functioning to be overburdened with such demands. Not once during IEP meetings, I was asked, “Why to waste time on teaching this advanced skill if he doesn’t have that basic skill?”  In many of the posts on this blog I dealt exactly with this question. For instance: “Why are you teaching him that? ”

I was always on defensive.   I defended my son’s right to know whatever he was capable of learning.

For my son’s regular school “Transition to adulthood”  meant that only functional academics should be taught. Since for school nothing Robert was learning with me at home was functional then nothing had  any value.

I got so used to that reaction  that when  Mrs. B  instead of asking, “Why did you teach Robert long division ?” expressed  appreciation of his math  skills, I felt stunned but then relieved and  unexpectedly… vindicated.

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by krymarh on July 18, 2013  •  Permalink
Posted in Teaching Out of Autism

Posted by krymarh on July 18, 2013

https://krymarh.com/2013/07/18/on-long-division-and-unexpected-vindication/

Stockholm Syndrome

Imagine respectable members of the town’s school committee and the highly regarded high school principal discussing the opening of a new classroom for students with special needs with a great name Forward. The  discussion is about how cheap it would be.  The rooms are already available, nothing new would be needed.  The tax deductible donations suffice to fill the space.  There won’t be much money for teachers, as the certified teachers are NOT envisioned.  Less pricy job coaches would do the trick. They would be transferred from high school to Forward.  No new hires!

Imagine, that this classroom opens in a building separated from the high school by more than a mile.  Imagine that the students won’t have an access to high school academic classes.  Imagine that those students won’t have an access to any new curricula materials, which nobody predicts purchasing.  Imagine that those students won’t have an access to any music, art, or sport programs offered to high school students.  Imagine that any of the students, even those with emotional and mental issues won’t have an access to school psychologist or counselor or guidance. Imagine that the closest nurse is in another school at least a  mile away.

All of that was fine with a principal and with reputable members of the school committee. None of them seemed concern with the access of special needs students  to academics,  music,  art,  a nurse, or a counselor.  The good principal of the high school towered above the members of the school committee and in a voice more appropriate for public announcements than carefully expressed proposition  kept assuring School Committee that it won’t cost much.

In this way a group of the most needy students was swept away from high school.

I know because I was there.  I came in support of opening of a new class. I knew that by law, the range of  students’ ages in one class shouldn’t exceed 4. So this class had to be created before the district was up for the state inspection.

I came to support an opening of a new classroom, but not to sweep children out of high school.  As I listened to the principal and committee members discussing the price tags, I became  sick to my stomach.  I did not believe what I was hearing or what I was not hearing.  Not one word of concern for the plight of the students or for how their dreams, ambitions, life skills, job skills, or academic skills might be affected.  Not ONE word.

For the next two years I kept hearing that the only academics in this program was reading (or listening to reading)  a morning newspaper and playing, always the same math, card game.

Three years later,  I consented to  transferring my son  from high school in the middle of the school year to this classroom which, for me, represented the travesty of education.  Why?

In his fourth year in high school, with a new teacher supported (as he told me twice over the phone) 100% by the principal my son was regressing quickly. Every week, I was called once or twice to school to pick him up.  Something strange was happening and nobody was  telling me anything.  My son was hitting himself with full force and screaming a lot.  After three good year, he was falling into abyss.  I did not know why.  I tried to learn but couldn’t. To prevent irreversible damage, I took him out of school.   I asked for  any other placement. ANY!   The  special ed director refused. I asked for permission to home school Robert. My application for homeschooling was rejected. I was told that if I attempted it, I would be sued for truancy. In those circumstances I not only  asked, I begged  to transfer my son to the Forward  Classroom the very program that, in my view,  was conceived with disregard for IDEA, and for Civil Rights.

When Robert was finally  transferred, I was relieved that my son escaped complete meltdown.  Even more, I WAS GRATEFUL. I was grateful to the principal, to the special education director, to all school committee members.  I even wrote a letter to express my immense gratitude.

I understand now, that I suffered from strange case of Stockholm Syndrome.  My son was kept hostage, so I was kept hostage, but the hostage  who also  had to play a role of a negotiator.  I did not realize that then.  I felt I won Robert’s freedom from cooperating partners not from his captors. It took me a while to realize that my son is still a prisoner, as am I. My syndrome couldn’t be more clear.

I express gratitude disproportional to the smallest gestures of teaching.  I  fight of my mood swings when I have to have contact with the school. I felt unable to even observe Robert’s classroom, as each observation confirms that my son is kept in the program that doesn’t address his basic educational needs.

I try to  heal myself by admitting my condition and diagnosing its causes. I find that the causes are related to that fatal day when the noble school committee members concerned themselves with the price of the new special education program but not with its quality and the effects  it would have on many of the children who would be forced to go there.

But isn’t that what everybody seems to be doing – discussing the price tag of special education but not its quality, appropriateness, and long lasting outcomes.

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by krymarh on July 18, 2013  •  Permalink
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Posted by krymarh on July 18, 2013

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As of Today 7

July 16

Robert returned home excited.  He went on  a field trip with his friends and teachers from his summer program.  They visited Quincy Market in Boston.  What made me excited, however, was that Robert could answer two questions. “Where did you go on your field trip?”

“Boston”

“What did you ride to get to Boston?”

“Train”.

Given how difficult it is for Robert to answer the simplest questions about his own life, and specially about what has already happened, I found this responses both gratifying and surprising .
Unfortunately, he was still confused by a differently worded question, “How did you get there?”  He understands what “how” means but still doesn’t know how to answer questions that begin with “How?”  It is as if he needed a one word cue pointing him in a right direction.Sadly, I don’t know that word myself.

During our evening study hour,  Robert was replacing lowercase letters with capital ones in all  proper nouns.  It was easy, almost mechanical exercise for him.  At the end of the page, however, he faced a task of writing a short paragraph about visiting his favorite place.  I was sure he would choose New York City or Disneyland.  That was what I always suggested to him when he was not able to  make choice by himself.  As Robert hesitated, I mentioned  New York City. Robert responded with a shrewd grin and said “Boston”.  I was not sure, if he REALLY meant it and thus I asked, “So what is your favorite place?”

“Boston”.

The answer was clear and the smile clearly indicated that Robert knew not only what he said, but also what impression that answer would make on me.  It was,  after all, his proclamation of independence from…me.   He quickly  and bravely wrote the first sentence, “My favorite place is Boston.”  Then he looked at me as if he was  lost.  Oh well, sudden independence would do that to everybody.  So I helped him to steer  his words toward South Station and Quincy Market.

As I am writing this post I realize that providing Robert with new experiences , experiences out of ordinary routines, might evoke in him a need to use language to share them with others. That need can  lead him to finding  words helping him describing his own life and sharing his experiences with others.

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by krymarh on July 17, 2013  •  Permalink
Posted in Teaching Out of Autism
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Posted by krymarh on July 17, 2013

https://krymarh.com/2013/07/17/as-of-today-7/

Irreplaceable Five More Minutes

 I don’t remember where I heard or read about this simple tool of easing transition from one activity to an other. I don’t even remember when I started using it or even when I noticed that it worked.  I believe it was the pre-ABA period but I am not sure.

It used to be that when we tried to wake up Robert in the morning, he reacted with anger and/or frustration.  He made angry noises or even kept hitting quickly his face.

Now, responding to  our first attempt of waking him up, Robert says, “Five more minutes.” We give him these five minutes.  A few minutes later, Robert might get up on his own (rarely), or he  gets up after hearing from one of us, the parents, that five minutes are up.

So much easier.

In the afternoon, Robert watches TV in the basement or movies on his IPAD.  I say, “In five more minutes we will study.”  Usually, I don’t even have to repeat that.  A few minutes later Robert sits at the table and examines worksheets prepared for that afternoon.

Of course it works other way around too.  When Robert asks for something he wants and I am busy, I respond with, “I will do that in five minutes.” And since I usually do, Robert accepts that response.

The hardest thing in teaching Robert to appropriate that tool, was to believe that Robert would understand it…. eventually.  At the beginning, he did not have a clue.  The words did not mean anything.  It did not help that at that time, Robert did not have any receptive labels.  Still, I kept telling him, “In five minutes the pool is all done”.  “In five minutes swing is all done.”   And after a few minutes, I took his hand, or picked him up, if necessary, and walked or drove home pretending that I did not pay attention to his protests or vehement protests.

But it was not until Robert understood that he also could use this tool, that this phrase  seemed to make the biggest difference.

A few years ago,  I entered Robert’s bedroom prepared for unpleasant protests in response to, “Robert get up, get ready for school.”

Sure enough, Robert made angry noises and began to  hit his ears in quick, short movements.  I could react the way I reacted previously by repeating in a stern, commanding voice, “Get up, get up. You will be late for the bus” and watch Robert continue screaming and hitting himself on the way to the bathroom.  I could, but instead I said, ” Robert, do you want to sleep a little longer?  ”

“Little longer” answered/repeated Robert and put his head on a pillow.

“Do you want to sleep five more minutes?”

“Five more  minutes.”  Repeated/answered Robert.

I don’t remember if that day I did not give him a couple extra five more minutes, but I do know that from that day on, Robert’s quality of life improved significantly as did mine.

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by krymarh on July 14, 2013  •  Permalink
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Posted by krymarh on July 14, 2013

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Back and Forth in (teaching) Time

A few days ago, the teacher at Robert’s summer program made me aware that Robert had difficulties telling time.  I was surprised, but not exactly.  I was surprised, because Robert was taught how to tell time more than ten years ago.  Step by step, he was told how to tell time to:

the full hour,

half an hour,

quarter to and quarter past an hour,

up to five minutes

up to a minute

I was not “EXACTLY” surprised, because I remembered that Robert had always had some difficulties when the time on an analog clock was a few minutes before a  full hour.  Since for such time an hour hand was close to the NEXT hour, Robert kept making one hour mistakes.  When the clock showed 10:49, Robert read, “11:49”.

I kept addressing that problem from time to time,  but never have I insisted on 100% correctness.  I hoped that in the future, as Robert would be required to tell time in order to organize and/or follow his daily routines, the errors would dissipate.

They did not.  Maybe, because the time telling has  never became important to  Robert and/or Robert’s teachers.  And that might include me.

Faced with such conundrum,  I considered two approaches.

One was to use the Teaching Hands Clock. Teaching Hands Clock  is a clock that has  a small oval attached to the hour hand. As one end of the oval approaches but not reaches full hour, let’s say 11, the other end still keeps the correct hour (10) inside the oval. I have seen  Teaching Hands Clocks many times  in the catalogue of the store  Different Roads to Learning  http://www.difflearn.com/category/timers_counters_clocks, but somehow, I have never ordered it.

The other method is to connect the teaching of telling  times with teaching another, related  skill.  I want  Robert to learn to tell how many minutes TO  an hour or PAST an hour.  I  hope, that if Robert understands  that, for instance,  five minutes TO 11 is the same as 10:55, then he will almost naturally master time telling.

I have to emphasize that if Robert were younger, I would use Teaching Hands Clock, because  at that time I couldn’t rely on any of the skills,  that support Robert’s learning now.

But at present it would be much more enriching to connect two different skills in such a way that they could reinforce each other.

I am convinced that in some instances teaching a concept what seems to be more complex, facilitates the understanding of  the simpler one.  Sometimes, placing a simple concept in a wider picture allows to better understand its function and its mechanism.

If that won’t be the case in teaching time telling, I can always use Teaching Hands Clock.

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by krymarh on July 12, 2013  •  Permalink
Posted in Math
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Posted by krymarh on July 12, 2013

https://krymarh.com/2013/07/12/back-and-forth-in-teaching-time/

Surviving Mayhem

The three months long mayhem came to an end.  All the basement walls were replaced with  mold resistant sheetrock and most of them was already painted.  The carpet was removed to let vinyl tiles cover the basement’s floor. Not without problems, a new shower was installed in the bathroom.   A few minor touches are still needed to complete the work, but they do not affect the overall presentation of the basement’s family room.

It was a hard time for Robert.

In my  post Antipodes I described Robert’s first encounter with a contractor. Knowing that  it would not be possible for contractors to remove the walls with Robert in the house, we took Robert skiing.  Of course when Robert came home, he noticed missing walls and was not happy about that.  “Wall, wall, wall”, he kept repeating and we kept answering with vague promises that walls will be installed next day.  Suffice to say, that Robert asked many, many, many times for the walls. To counter his perseveration, which after first hundred times, was getting on our nerves , I used the old trick, which helped me in the past.

“Wall, wall, wall.”

” What about wall?”

A second of hesitation. “Tomorrow.”

“You right.  The contractors will put the wall tomorrow.”

I had found out in the past, that when I responded to Robert’s obsessive repetitions with a question and thus changed them  into a dialogue, their frequency decreased.

Almost every day, I used the same strategy, to help Robert deal with new changes, and help myself deal with Robert’s reactions.

It was a winter vacation week.  A few times I took Robert to Sunapee Mountain for adaptive ski lesson at NEHSA.  Upon our return, Robert immediately inspected the house and noticing unwelcome changes demanded explanations. It could be another wall, which missing, it could be a missing thermostat, or temporarily covered by new wall, old electric outlet.  For the first ten times, we kept giving straight, short answers. “Thermostat is broken.  We have to buy a new one. The outlet is under the wall.  Tomorrow we will fix it.”

After ten times, when Robert already knew the answers but kept his fixation alive, we went back to dialogue.

“Here, here, here.” Robert did not know the word “thermostat”  and to let us know what he meant, he was knocking on the wall, where thermostat used to be.

“Oh, you mean thermostat?”

Unclear imitation followed, “Stat, stat”

“What about thermostat?”

“Is broken.”

“You right, thermostat is broken.  We will buy a new one tomorrow.”

“Store.”

“Yes, we will buy new one in the store.”

I have to say, that the unwelcome changes in the basement forced Robert to initiate many more conversations and at some point I started enjoying our relatively intense communication. However, at some point,  Robert got used to the mayhem and stopped obsessing about it. That meant that he also stopped asking.  His anxiety decreased, because  every day after coming from school, he was met with clear improvement that did not require any additional explanation. Because there was no need to ask, he didn’t.

One of the hardest thing for Robert to tolerate was the moving of the furniture. Soon however, we found a middle ground.  As long as the TV, VCR, and DVD player reminded connected and watchable from the sofa, everything else was less important.

Robert, who as a self-proclaimed guardian of his environments attempts with all his might to keep his surrounding unchanged, not only survived three months of pandemonium, but accepted all the alternations in the end.

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by krymarh on July 4, 2013  •  Permalink
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Posted by krymarh on July 4, 2013

https://krymarh.com/2013/07/04/surviving-mayhem/

Growing Forward, Holding Back, Adjusting to the World

Years ago, when Robert was four years old, our family went to Newport, RI. It was a short trip.  We parked the car, bought ticket, and waited in a room stuffed with expensive objects for our guide. Jan tried to hold Robert’s hand.  I tried to hold Robert’s hand.  Jan tried to hold Robert in his arms.  I tried to hold Robert in my arms.  Amanda waited between us.  She was quiet and resigned.  Robert kept wiggling.  He kept  sliding between our arms as if he were covered with lubricant. He used all his limbs and head to pull himself out and throw us of balance.  We hoped that when the guide would start talking and moving us through the overloaded chambers, Robert would calm down.  Not exactly.

As soon as the guide opened his mouth, Robert followed with his commentary on the whole experience.

It was piercing.

We left.

I cried realizing how much of the world was closed to Robert and how big part of the world would remain closed to him forever.

I cried realizing that there would be experiences we would not be able to share. I cried for many other reasons, all important and valid  and none easy to articulate.

The only way of pulling myself out of that desperate realization was to become angry at someone or something.

So I became angry at those rich owners of that stuffy house. I became angry at all the owners of all the mansions.   I became angry at the Newport Preservation Society.  I became angry at the whole town of Newport.

For 16 years I could not understand people who not only paid money to visit  mansions but also found the experience  enriching, entertaining, or …educational.

Nonetheless, we, the parents,  learned our  lesson.  Jan, avoiding all buildings, continued to take Robert to parks for hiking, swimming, or bike lessons.  I planned our outings a little better.  In Medieval Salt Mine, near Krakow, I hired a private guide just for our family and two friends. This way we synchronized our visit to Robert’s internal clock. I don’t think we missed anything.  Mainly however, we only went to the places that allowed self guided tours.

When Robert threw a tantrum in Science Museum in Boston (Unknown cause), I did not stop taking him there, but to the contrary, I bought family membership and began visiting it more often for shorter periods of time.   We wandered through Museum of Science without any plan. I let Robert decide if he wanted to go left or right, up or down, to the Blue or Green Wing.

We also kept  membership to the Museum of Art.  Our visits there, however, although short were always  planned.  One day we went to see Egyptian section, another day  Chinese furniture, and so on.  On two visits Robert was supposed to find one (big) picture.  Much harder than it seems.

I have to say, that before going to any new place, I am a little tense.  The old places are much better, as Robert loves to visit them again and enjoys recognizing them as old friends.

Finally, this Saturday, we went back to Newport.  After sixteen or seventeen years. We stopped to see Green Animals Topiary in Portsmouth.  It was a good introduction.  The house was relatively small, the garden large.  It was a great place to breathe after the trip.

Although, I wanted to explore possibility of Robert following the tour guide, I was very relieved that in Breakers’ Mansion, they had self guided tours.  So we practiced setting the earphones to the numbers in front of artifacts and pretending to listen to the lecture.  Because, I did not listen.  I watched Robert, who might have or might have not listened, but was learning to keep the earphones on.  It went so well, that we followed with another self-guided tour of Rosecliff.  Only once in those three mansions (the first one), Robert tried to open the door that shouldn’t be open.  Told not to do that, he refrained from opening any other door, and there were many of them.

I don’t know what his experience taught him.   What sense did he make out of that trip? sadly, he won’t tell me.

I find it encouraging, however,  that he did not ask me for french fries while we were visiting those mansions, although he asked many times when we were outside.

Unfortunately, French Restaurant in Newport doesn’t serve fries or burgers, or chicken fingers or eggplant or poblano chilli.  So it still could not accommodate Robert, and thus was out of the question.

But, maybe next year?

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by krymarh on July 2, 2013  •  Permalink
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Posted by krymarh on July 2, 2013

https://krymarh.com/2013/07/02/growing-forward-holding-back-adjusting-to-the-world/

On Making Thank You Cards

Tomorrow is the last day of 2012/2013 school year.  This evening, Robert and I made cards for his teachers and his schoolmates. Since drawing is very hard for Robert, I decided to cut some  geometrical forms from colored paper and let Robert make pictures out of them.  He got the hint, and soon he started drawing and cutting those forms by himself.  He arranged them to make a tent under a tree, a sailboat on the water, mountains with foothills in front, kites, sun, grass, rainbow, and-the hardest- palm tree.   On each card he wrote teachers’ or friends’ name.  He wished his friends to have a great summer and he thanked his teachers for their work. As he finished placing cards in the envelopes, he seemed happy and proud.  After all, he fulfilled a new kind of  responsibility. Responsibility we have toward those with whom we spent time together and  share the space, experiences, learning, work, and food. The responsibility to communicate. Robert  was proud of making so many pictures.  It took him almost three hours.  But  he loved  writing names and wishes on the cards and,  even more, he enjoyed writing names on the envelopes.

Were his emotions caused by discovering  a way to communicate with his schoolmates and teachers?  After all, he never initiates any conversation.  Without prompts he never tells anything.  But he carries those shapeless thoughts all the time, unable to let them out, as words don’t come to help.

That is why the fact that he could write almost mechanically the same phrase, “Have a great summer.”  is much more important than it seems.

How important was it for Robert to write, “Thank you for teaching.”?

I know Robert likes going to school.  I deduce he likes his teacher and his aide.  I think he has learned to appreciate the help he gets while learning new skills at one of the job sites.  I suspect, he notices the support he gets while navigating new situations.

Is he grateful?  I think he is.  I think he is more appreciative than many typical students are toward their educators.  That is why he was so pleased with all those words he enclosed in envelopes addressed to his teachers and classmates.

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by krymarh on June 25, 2013  •  Permalink
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Posted by krymarh on June 25, 2013

https://krymarh.com/2013/06/25/on-making-thank-you-cards/

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