Twist. When the Teaching Backfire.

This evening Robert was finding distances along the routes made from two or three connected trails.  He did not have any problems with finding distances by adding lengths of two or three segments dividing the entire route.   When, however, he had to tell how many meters one has to make by going from A to B and back, he was lost. I made a drawing. I explained, “This is 700 meters from A to B and this is 700 meters from B to A.  Robert said something, but I did not understand.  So I continued.  “This way is 700m and the way back is 700m.How much together?” I was sure that after hearing the magic word “together”, Robert would immediately come with addition.

Instead I saw complete confusion in Robert’s eyes.  Then I heard separate words: “negative”, “zero”.

At first I did not get it.   Since it was not what I expected (adding or multiplying by 2) I dismissed Robert’s answer without giving it a second thought. Besides, I was preoccupied with finding a better way to explain the problem.  As I contemplated using a string to demonstrate how to measure the length of the round trip, it suddenly dawned on me.

Robert was using his knowledge of positive and negative numbers as I presented them to him on a number line.  He treated both routes as opposite vectors, which had a sum of zero.  Coming back to the starting point meant there was a zero shift. Just like adding 5 + (-5) =0

Robert applied his knowledge of integers in a new context.

I understood the genesis of Robert’s error.  Although Robert did not understand the  basic concept of length he was, nonetheless,  grasping with and applying abstract concepts of positive and negative numbers as they relate to direction on the number line.

There is also the possibility that my emphasis on teaching Robert to add integers led to over generalization of the new rules.

Was that an example of teaching that backfired?  Did Robert lost trust in his own analysis of the problem?

As long as I remember,  Robert has never solved the problem of length of the round trip independently.  So, maybe that was not a fault of my teaching.  Maybe this time, he felt he had a tool to solve the problem and used it, although incorrectly.

I am not sure what to do next.  Should I continue with integers on the number line and introduce the concept of absolute value as a distance from zero, or stick to the string?

I do not know what to do about that.  Should I introduce absolute value or just stick to the string?

Teaching Without Curriculum.

Before I began writing about different math curricula I used  with my son, I have to make a full disclosure about my emotional state in regard to that topic. I feel a lot of anger and confusion.  This anger is the result of those experiences:

1. None of the math textbooks or workbooks I bought for my son was recommended  or even known to school.

2. None of the program my son attended proposed any math curriculum for him. I am grateful that the two schools accepted Saxon Math  which I had been using long before suggesting this program to school.

3.I learned about many math programs from parents’ e-mail lists or later from catalogs, which somehow found a way to my home.

4.The schools tend to use goals (too narrow and too few) written in the IEP  as a reason NOT TO WORK ON ANYTHING ELSE. For a student who has an access to the general education classes, that might be not as confining and disastrous as it is for a student whose whole education has been reduced to IEP goals.

5.Working only on specific math goals in a vacuum, without connecting them to related topics, leads to  many holes in understanding of  the concepts.  Consequently, we demand that children subjected to such approach jump from a stone to a stone while crossing a brook, instead of walking over the bridge made of well-connected and supported boards as their typical peers do with the help of a well designed, comprehensive curriculum.

6.Lack of curriculum forces teachers to search for appropriate pages on internet.  The pages from internet allow for extra practice but not for an introduction of  novel concepts.  Relying on such pages negatively affects teaching, as it leads to mechanical applying of formulas without understanding concepts behind them.  It is not good for the teacher and it is certainly not good for the student. 

7. I suspect, however, that this approach is wholeheartedly supported by the school administration as it saves money.  Instead of buying expensive textbooks and workbooks for students,  the administration relies on teachers to print pages from internet to address narrowly  formulated IEP’s goals. Those goals, I have to emphasize again, are too narrow to result in any meaningful learning. And thus the students who need more to learn, get much, much less than their typical peers.


Not a Laughing Matter

The events, I recorded relatively accurately in Surviving the Doomsday, are serious enough to discuss them further.

1. I said, “Relatively”, because I omitted a few details.  For instance, Amanda made a short comic strip with pictures related to the disappearance of the wallet.  I hoped that seeing someone else taking the wallet would let Robert understand what had happened.  I believed that any explanation would be better than none.

2. It is interesting that having a strong daily routine (studying together with the help of  already prepared worksheets)  helped, at least  temporarily, to deal with the break of another routine/or routine attachment.

3.The fact that Robert accepted so easily  dad’s departure for work seemed to indicate, that it was a calming and reassuring for Robert to know that other routines (and other people routines) remained unbroken.

4. For almost a year before the wallet was gone, I had been concerned about Robert’s attachment to the wallet.  A few times I suggested to him that he should get a new wallet. Robert reacted with a forceful indignation.  So I delayed the time of unavoidable confrontation until the time I would feel calm and strong enough to face it.  I postponed for too long.

5. Had I replaced Robert’s wallet  sooner, a few things might be different:

a.I would be emotionally prepared for the outcome. When the wallet disappeared, I was in a state of panic. That is not a good state when you have to handle unpredictable consequences. I was stressed and it showed.

b. The wallet would not disappear, but be replaced by another one with Robert’s  full knowledge.  Although Robert would still protest vehemently, he would at least know where the old wallet was.  Consequently, Robert’s anxiety would be lower, although his resolve not to give up might be even stronger. I would reduce Robert’s anxiety even at the cost of stronger protests.

c. Having his cards transferred from one wallet to another would make it easier to understand the fact that the new wallet is assigned the same function the yellow wallet had.  Robert would, probably, remove the cards a few times, but the idea that the cards should be in a new wallet would slowly sink in. Placing entirely new card (McDonald’s gift card instead of a bank card and an  ID card which were gone with the yellow wallet) was more like a symbolic gesture than a real transfer.

d. I would give Robert an option of either attending a preferable activity (skiing, eating in favorite restaurant) WITH a NEW WALLET or staying at home.  Given my prior experiences, including the one which I described in Negotiations , it would take a lot of convincing but no more than two hours of time.  After going outside even once with a new wallet, Robert would not have problems taking it again.

e.  Knowing, from experience, that one wallet can be replaced by another, would make Robert’s reaction   to its sudden disappearance weaker and more flexible.

The yellow wallet was an eye sore.  It was also very uncomfortable.  It was difficult to squeeze the cards in or take them out; the money kept falling out.  I should have the courage to convince (?) Robert to replace it sooner. It would not be easy, but it would be much less stressful for all of us than dealing with an unplanned crisis.

The good rule is to intervene as soon as too strong, unhealthy habit is forming.

It is a very good rule indeed. However,  not an easy one to follow.

Surviving the Doomsday, Sort Of

Between 8 AM and 2 PM on Tuesday, January 29, Robert’s yellow wallet disappeared from his locker.  And thus the world, as Robert knew it, came to an end.  The simple and pleasant world where the things stay in those places that one left them.  The world in which yellow wallet kept in the right packet of Robert’s jeans, provided constant comfort and support every time  Robert left the safety of his home or his school.That predictable, safe  world was gone.

Just like that.  POOF!

Robert refused to go on the school bus to return  home. The ride would feel too disturbing and/or too dangerous as the rules were broken and one would not know what to expect even in familiar places.  He was, however,  persuaded to go home with his mother.  He complied mainly to explore the possibility, suggested by his teacher,  that the wallet might be miraculously transferred to Robert’s home. Robert came home and checked the shelf by the door.

The yellow wallet was not there.

It was serious.

It was not the  time to eat.  It was not the time to watch Barney on the IPAD.

It was not the time to  take a sip of  soda.

It was the time to restore  the balance of the universe by calling on the yellow wallet to come back to its place..

So Robert turned to the only representatives of the World he had access to: his mother and his sister.  Repeating hundred times per minute, “Yellow wallet, yellow wallet… (….) yellow wallet” he clearly expressed his determination.  He wrote on big and small pieces of paper, “Yellow wallet.” He typed on Speak It on his IPAD, “Yellow wallet”.

The world, did not give back the yellow wallet.

Robert’s mother tried to fool him by showing him a brown, leather wallet of the same size.  Was she kidding?

Robert’s sister attempted to cheat him by bringing from the store a new, black, fabric wallet.  Exactly like the one which disappeared, except for the color. That was not the way to repair broken world.  Robert placed the new wallet in its shiny box and gave it back to Amanda.   She should know better than that.

Robert voice got louder and louder.  He shortened sounds  to “yell wall”, but added a dramatic pitch. He was hurting and made sure we realized that.

After learning about the doom of Robert’s world, his dad took earlier train and on the way bought  McDonald’s gift card.  He tried to place it in the brown wallet.  Robert took it out.  Wrong wallet, wrong card.  Robert wanted his debit card and his public transportation MBTA card.

He still did not want to eat.  He still did not want to watch Barney.  He did not want soda.  He wanted the pillar of the universe – the dirty, old, yellow wallet to return to its place. “Yell wall, Yell wall, yell wall……”  Dad locked himself in his office with an excuse of finishing his work assignment.

I continued to explain to Robert, that the brown wallet was nicer, that the bank would give him a new card.  That everything would be fine. Robert did not want to argue with me.  He smiled insincerely and said, “OK, OK.”  Then with a key we didn’t even know it existed, he unlocked dad’s  door from outside.  He knew that dad would be the first to give up to his demands.  “YellOW waLLET” he said as clearly as he could.  Dad responded evasively and meekly with vague promises about tomorrow.

Not quite enough, but at least some hope. !

I showed Robert his worksheets.  They were part of his evening  routine.  Maybe hoping that by fulfilling his daily obligation  he would convince the world to do the right thing and give him his yellow wallet back, maybe for some other reason, but Robert started working.  He worked for three hours with a few minutes long breaks during which he ran to Dad. “Yellow wallet, yellow wallet.”   After every break, Robert returned to the table and continued his work. It was the only time that evening when all four of us (including Robert) regained partial sanity.

Soon it was gone.

It was a good sign that Robert  took a bath and  put on his pajamas.  But then we realized that his compliance was a part of the scheme, he concocted. He went to bed to accelerate arrival of “Tomorrow. Robert got up every few minutes and ran to his dad demanding that he kept is promise.  After all Robert closed his eyes, and that meant the tomorrow had arrived.  Dad promised to find the yellow wallet “TOMORROW”. So, where was it?

Over and over, until one or two AM.  More and more persistent and angry.

Only the threat, “If you don’t go to bed, no school tomorrow” forced him to return to bed.  For five minutes.

At 2 AM I fell asleep.  I was awaken by loud, mad scream at 4 AM.  YELLOW WALLET!!!!!!.

I couldn’t sleep after that, but surprisingly Robert could.  I did not wake him until his dad left for work.  That was a mean thing to do, but the only way to reduce the number of desperate calls for dad to find the yellow wallet.

As soon as Robert woke up, he started calling for his dad to keep his promise.  Dad was at work.  Robert could accept that.  When I drove Robert to school, two hours later than usually, he took his brown wallet with McDonald’s gift card and $1 bill with him.  Good sign.  The school put locks on the lockers.  Another good sign.

At school, according to the note, Robert kept asking for the yellow wallet but was relatively successfully redirected to academic work.

He came home happy.  He ate a snack, he drank coke, he watched movies on his IPAD and even danced with IPAD in his arms. He laughed a lot. He kept asking for dad.  He was happy to have him home.  Once he asked for a yellow wallet but did not insist.

24 hours passed since the yellow wallet disappeared and the world did not end.

It was not the end, after all. It was the metamorphosis.

Rebirth!

Time to celebrate!

And sleep.

Oops!

In the past,  I firmly stated that you should teach what you can teach a particular student or a group of students, at a given time. I believed that this was the case with teaching Robert about percents.  I analyzed possible difficulties, I planned ahead, I chose (Or so I thought.) appropriate curriculum and yet,  a small error, tiny omission lead me to a standstill and Robert to unlearning.

A few days ago, I was  preparing  new folders from Take It to your Seat series to practice with Robert previously taught skills.  As I looked through the pages of the Math workbook, I came across a section on finding the  prices of the items on sale.  That was not a topic we had previously addressed but the skill seemed useful and relatively easy to teach. It required the application of  two simple operations: subtraction and multiplication by decimal. When I, however, analyzed the possible teaching methods I couldn’t decide if it would be better to first subtract percent from 100% and then multiply, or first multiply by proper decimal and follow with subtraction.  Moreover, I was not sure if in some cases it wouldn’t be more useful to change percent into a regular fraction and replace the multiplication with  the division by a reciprocal of that fraction.  I was not sure which approach would be the easiest to apply in real life situation.

As  I looked for the support or/and inspiration in  the Unit 2 devoted to percents in Momentum Math  level G, I decided it would  make sense to skip the Take It  to Your Seat for now and introduce percents to Robert in a systematic way.  Momentum Math appeared to be a good tool for that.  I looked through lessons A to H, with the  exception of  the Lesson E, as its title suggested that it was the lesson only about  common percents: 25% and 50%.  Judging by the title, I concluded that it would be useful and easy to digest chapter. There was no reason, to look at it more carefully.

So we went: Lesson A, Lesson B, Lesson C.  No major problems.  We skipped Lesson D.  It was about comparing data, which could be done later, if at all.   We begun Lesson E.  The unpleasant surprise awaited me on the second page.   Beside the problems I was prepared to work with Robert, such as

25% of 60 =?

there were also problems I was not ready to teach Robert at this moment:

25% of  ? = 30

Had I noticed that sooner, I would have practiced or reviewed prerequisite skills or skip this lesson replacing it with my own worksheets. But I did not notice.

Oops!

Robert doesn’t take lightly switching from one kind of problem to another.  He doesn’t like to feel lost. He despise being confused.

More importantly, he HATES when he cannot complete all the worksheets prepared for him for a given day.

As soon as I tried to explain to Robert that this lesson should be left for another day, Robert put both arms on the page to prevent it from being taken away.

I tried to lead Robert through the second sort of problems, but the only thing I achieved was to confuse him. As a result, he started making errors in the first category of problems.

I suggested that we skip just those few difficult problems, but Robert persistently tapped on them letting me know that this was not an option.

I cornered myself.

So I cheated.  I asked Robert to bring me a glass of water from the kitchen.  As soon as he left, I hid the three of the five pages. This scheme, unfortunately, was not a bullet proof.  In the past, for different reasons, I did the same thing only to have Robert looking indefatigably for the missing worksheets and almost always finding them. Still, there was a small chance, he would give up..

When he returned, he started searching.

After a few minutes, he found the missing pages in the binder with  worksheets prepared for the future dates. He hesitated for a second, glimpsed at me,  and…  closed the binder without taking the worksheets out.

I could not believe! How was that possible?

Did he decide that the problems were too puzzling?  Was his distaste for being in a state of confusion stronger than his need to complete the unpleasant task and thus let him conquer his obsessive compulsive behavior?

Was his effort to pretend, that he did not find those worksheets a sign that he had that evasive thing…Theory of Mind?

Or am I assuming too much?

Resisting the Attack of the Questions. Teach First, Ask Later

I was watching a speech pathologist working with my son.  She had almost the same approach I had when I taught Robert at home. The difference was that her pronunciation was better than my, forever foreign, accent would allow. She had a warm, clear voice. She was addressing Robert’s deficits. And yet I became concerned.  I noticed something which I had never noticed when I worked with Robert. If I did not, it was because  concerned with reaching goals, managing behavior,  and mentally recording errors,   I did not look at myself calmly and objectively enough. She and I, we both, asked too many questions. And thus our teaching was reduced to checking what Robert doesn’t know.  We addressed the gaps in his language AFTER we discovered them.  It never occurred  to me, that I was checking Robert’s knowledge BEFORE I taught him related concepts. I should have known better.  I heard it loud and clear at least three times before.

1. I heard it at the  PCDI Conference:

Even before the conference I was aware of  the benefits of the most to least prompting. This prompting was used with Robert after the least to most prompting did not produce results.  When asked, “Do this” while paired with a therapist’s clapping her hands, Robert  responded with the whole repertoire of gestures he previously had learned: clapping, patting his head, and touching his nose. For Robert, “Do this” meant, “Do something”. Since he did not know which particular “something” he should do, he aimed for everything assuming that one of the gestures had to do the trick.

Although the conference solidified my conviction that this sort of prompts was the most beneficial for Robert, I still did not realize  that the most to least prompting, was a  form of a very basic teaching approach:  Teach first, ask later.

During this conference, I also recognized, for the first time, the negative impact the questions can have on slowly emerging skills. I watched a short movie clip presenting  a girl showing a picture to a teacher. She had made this picture  a few minutes before and, at the request of her therapist, she went to show her picture to another person.  That was an exercise in  social skills and communication. The other teacher did not ask, “What is it?” or “Who is that”  etc. The teacher complemented the girl and elaborated on the picture.    I remember the advice of the conference presenter, “Don’t ask what it is.  The student already made an effort.  Don’t punish her by asking questions.  Complement her.  Reward her with verbal prize.   Elaborate, if possible, on the picture’s message. Made the student  feel good not only about drawing a picture but also about showing it to you.”

As I understood then, the presenters wanted to show how not to intimidate a student who initiates communication.  Because the questions required answer which the student was not able to form yet, they were quite  punishing, intimidating, and confusing. Drawing a picture and talking about it are two completely different skills.

I think, that by commenting and elaborating on the picture, the teacher was also presenting the student with the model of how to talk about her artwork.  The teacher was teaching before asking.

2. I heard it from  Bridget Taylor during her short workshop at SNCARC in Westwood.

“If your son (or daughter) doesn’t come to you, when you call him, don’t repeat the request again.  Go to him, take his hand, bring him to the place he was supposed to come to and tell him, “This means come here.”  ”

It was such a simple advice, and such an eye opener.  We should demonstrate what “come here” means before demanding over and over, “Come here! Come here Now!! Come right now!!!!! If I remember correctly,  Bridget Taylor explained, that if we repeat ten times the same request with increased volumes, we will teach that “Come here” doesn’t mean anything if it is not followed by ten other irritated requests.

Again, it was another variation of the same simple rule: Teach first, ask later or… The most to the least prompting

3. I heard it reiterated again, during Carbone’s Verbal Behavior Conference.

That is when I learned about a simple tool of installing novel language concepts:   The teacher asks, immediately provides an answer, and repeats the question.  Student answers.

Teacher: -What is this? A train.  What is this?-

Student -A train.-

It should be  clear that the first question is really not a question  but it is a element of instruction about how to answer this question. Thus,  it is another variant of  “Teach first, ask later.” and  (AGAIN) of the   most to least prompting.  The student has minimal opportunity to  make an error.  This simple verbal construct reduced a lot of stress associated with unsuccessful teaching and, in Robert’s case,  led to increase in his vocabulary.

If  I feel the need to write about something as basic as “Teach first, ask later.” it is because this approach is quickly becoming extinct.

I have to admit, that the most to least approach seemed almost contra intuitive to me. I doubted if it would have ever worked.  It did.  It brought quick results when nothing else worked.

Before PCDI conference, I was eager to ask Robert many questions.  The fact that he could not talk did not make any difference.  I was asking because I did not know any other alternative.  Moreover, I was anxious and I had to check if Robert STILL does not know how to answer.  

Later, I observed what happened when Robert presented his “artwork” or “homework” to dad or any other relatives.  At the sound of the first question, he turned back and left. Although I knew it was not a good reaction to Robert’s communicative attempt,  it was hard for me to convince others to use PCDI approach.  I guess the questions are imprinted in all of us as the first communicative reaction.

I was the one, who, before Bridget Taylor workshop, exhausted myself with calling my son many times before going to him and bringing him to the place he should have come on his own. After the workshop, less than a week sufficed to reduce to one the number of calling Robert to come to me.

If I did not fail  teaching Robert new concepts through “traditional” (?) methods, I would have considered the Verbal Behavior’s  tool of introducing new words artificial and redundant and would not apply it.

In our world, there is not way to escape questions.  They are everywhere. Questions are the hooks which allow one person to attach herself  or himself to another.  Even when we introduce ourselves, we really answer unspoken question about who we are. Yes, there is no escaping questions.  They have to be taught at some point.  But even with questions, we have to teach them, before asking them.

???????????

1995 PCDI Conference, 17 Years Later

I attended a couple of conferences before December of 1995.  One of them was by Lovaas.  I only vaguely remember it because whatever was said or shown there, I had already learned from Lovaas’ Me-Book. I knew what discrete trials were as I watched them being done with my son and did them myself.  I went there, mainly to see the man, who started it all.   Another conference was  presented by a famous, local speech professor. He told a story about a male student who spent many years unable to communicate at ABA school. As soon, however, as the boy got an assistive technology device (or a computer program ) and learned to use it to communicate,  he typed the  message, “Take me out of here.  They are all crazy.” The crowd laughed approvingly.  Not surprisingly, the audience preferred a miracle over ABA. I did not laugh.  I don’t remember anything else from that conference as nothing what was said there  applied  to Robert’s teaching.

In December of 1995  I signed up for the PCDI conference.  The images from that conference, for better or for worse, are still  imprinted in my brain.

For better, because I learned that there were people who not only knew how to teach children like Robert but were constantly looking for novel ways of teaching.  People, who defined criteria for progress, and were not afraid to change program if it was not sufficiently effective.

For worse, because I wrongly assumed that all Robert’s teachers  would not be much different than presenters.

For better, because I learned a lot and I was able to use many of the ideas to teach Robert.

For worse, because I never was able to pass that information/ideas to my son’s teachers and thus was very often disappointed with the quality of the teaching which never quite measured up to the presentation.

Moreover, since so many people attended the conference I believed that it  would not be long before the tools/concepts presented at the conference became known to every special education teacher in Massachusetts.

The future seemed  open to progress.

But it was not.  The ideas were not a match for moldy, from lack of fresh air, walls of special education classrooms.

At that time, Robert was still not talking.  He approximated a sound for “juice” and maybe for something else. What was more concerning, he did not have any receptive labels.  It was hard to watch a presentation because  so many problems and solutions did not  relate to Robert as he was in December of 1995. His issues were the more basic and more serious.   Since Robert did not acquire language despite six months of ABA, he was one of those children that were doomed to not recover according to results of Lovaas’  experiment. As I listened to Patricia Krantz, Gregory MacDuff,  Edward Fenske, or Lynn McClannahan and watched the students performing different tasks, I wondered if my son would ever be able to get to such levels and learn the skills those students had already mastered.

I watched the students seating at the large table, working on an art project and using sentence strips to “chat” with each other.  In 1995, that was not a possibility for my son.  It  certainly would have been doable and beneficial in 2006.

I listened to criteria for transition to main stream, and I doubted if such transition would ever be possible for Robert.  It was not.  What was possible was to transition from one to one instruction to a group instruction. But again, in Robert’s placement in 2006 there was no one who would plan, monitor,and adjust program to facilitate such transition. Nobody attended the PCDI conference.

I was learning new methods, gaining new tools and yet I did not know  if my son’s development would ever allow me to apply the information I was receiving. Today, I am glad I listened even to those lectures that seemed to address needs of much higher functioning children. For once, some of them became useful later.  Secondly,  I learned not only how to deal with very specific, limited range  issues but, because the range of topics was pretty wide, it was possible to apply similar way of thinking to address problems not mentioned in the conference.  Maybe the word “generalize” would explain better what I mean.

As I watched young man emptying dishwasher with the help of  the picture schedule detailing all micro-steps required, I realized  I could do that with Robert. It took a few days to assist Robert in unloading the dishwasher, before he became completely independent.

As I watched children following picture activity schedules by choosing the puzzles and/or other activities from shelves and later putting them away, I knew that Robert could learn this quickly.  Well, he did and he did not.  His teacher was unable to make  Robert  point to the ONLY picture before reaching for the ONLY puzzle. Since Robert didn’t point, he was not allowed to complete the puzzle.  I, on the other hand,  ignored pointing for as long as it was not a functional gesture (Which it was not, since there was only one picture and one toy just in front of Robert.  Nothing to choose from.)   and let Robert to follow picture schedule of three activities.  Which he did. Meantime his teacher  kept recording failure after failure, day after day, week after week, month after month. Unable to make concession and skip pointing, the teacher stopped this program. Oh, well…

I attended other conferences after PCDI. I left each of them with one or two  tools, which, no matter how small they appeared to others, allowed  me to teach Robert and/or manage his behavior. Nothing, however, compares with this presentation.

Just a few months before this conference, we, the parents, were seating in the hospital office of the psychiatrist considered to be an autism specialist. It was a depressing event.  The psychiatrist gave us  a diagnosis and shared his  conviction that there is nothing to be done about it.  We tried to shake the gloom, but it lingered.  It was this conference that finally dispersed those feelings. I felt energized and capable if not exactly hopeful.

I felt that I not only had tools, but also the ability to make the tools myself.

I still have the binder from that conference . When I looked through its pages, I was surprised by how much of what was said 17 years ago is still valid.

Kathryn. When the Words Heal

Two months ago I posted  Three Rejections about our painful experiences from the spring of 2006.  It seemed that at that time, all the doors were closing in front of Robert (and me).  As we, the parents, tried to enlarge Robert’s world by introducing Robert to new places and new activities, the institutions  that, by definition, should be open to him, expelled him one way or another.  I am not sure how Robert felt about this.   Maybe he was relieved that he did not have to go to the school, he did not like.  Maybe he felt that something was missing from his life. I can’t tell.  I know that I felt anger, confusion, and piercing sadness. 

I was sitting at the large,  oval table in a conference room at the local ARC.  Kathryn, representing ARC was sitting in front of me. Next to her sat the representative of, as it was called then, Department of Mental Retardation.  We were talking about Robert.

-“Why don’t you bring Robert to our program?”  asked Kathryn”

” He is very tense lately, and I never know how difficult he might behave.”  I answered, remembering all those times I was called to school to pick him up, because of the behavior the teacher was not able to control.  “I never know if he will have a melt down or not” .  “I would rather keep him at home than be called to take him home.”  I said knowing from the past year experiences that picking Robert up was never easy.  He was aware that my arrival to school meant that he did something wrong. He certainly did not want to admit that.  So he did not want to leave the school.  I felt I did not have any other option but to keep Robert at home.

But the Kathryn said,
“Please don’t  think that you can bring Robert  only when he is behaving perfectly.  To the contrary, when he has hard day at home he should come here. This is  one more reason to bring him here.  We are capable of working with him through any behavior.  We are here to help.”

I do not remembered exactly, word for word, what Kathryn said in the late spring or early summer of 2006.  She  used fewer words.  They were simpler and calmly radiated with meaningful assurance.  I wish , I recorded her words and listened to them whenever I needed to heal from the wounds caused by others.

Robert attended the program twice a week.  There had  never been a problem with behavior. That shouldn’t be a surprise. Kathryn, who was a director of family support, rather administrative position that did not include hands on care,  almost always was with children taking care of those who, on a given day, had the hardest time in the program. By doing so she was not only supervising young employees and volunteers.  She was giving them an example of how to meaningfully engage and take care of young people with many developmental issues.

Later, I learned that Kathryn’s major was Business Administration.  She moved to California and started working for financial institution.  I miss her a lot, mainly because I have never again been so convincingly reassured that others are able of taking good care of Robert even on his worst days.

Intermezzo. On Logic, and Laughter

Last  Friday evening, Robert and I were sitting at our dining table drawing heights in triangles. I was fidgeting with my pencil, when Robert bent his head down and moved it forward wanting to take a closer look at the vertex and the base of a triangle.  The tip of my pencil touched the top of his head and scratched him. Robert felt pain. He shook his head and, for a second,  closed his eyes. When I tried to comfort him, Robert dropped his pencil, picked up mine, and replayed what had just happened. He placed the pencil’s lead on top of his head and shifted it to one side. That did not feel right. Robert put the pencil away, hesitated for a fraction of a second, picked  the pencil again and  used it the way pencils should be used: begun writing on the top of his head.

Something was still wrong. Robert put the pencil away, looked at me inquisitively, and  did precisely what one was supposed to do with an unwanted and impossible to decipher scribbles written in the wrong place.  He grabbed the eraser and energetically wiped the writing off his scalp and hair.

That should have been the end of this story if I wrote it as a joke for Reader’s Digest .  But that was not the end of the story of Robert.

I giggled.  Surprised, Robert looked at me trying to understand why instead of  feeling sorry for him I laughed at him.  He put down the eraser, took it again,  returned to wiping  invisible words, and… smiled.

He seemed to be telling me, “There is something funny going on.  I  share your amusement but I am not sure exactly why.”
He  picked the eraser again.  As he was wiping off  “doodles” from his head, he burst in laughter.
He got it!

He not only KNEW that he did something hilarious, he FELT it.

Replays

Three days ago, I watched Robert running down the stairs. He slipped on one step, lost balance, regained it without falling, and ended up standing two steps below. Instead of continuing his journey to the basement, he turned back, climbed two steps up, and reenacted his misstep.

Well, not exactly.

He bent his left knee and with the right foot he gently traced his previous movement  leading the foot through the edges of the two steps. He did not risk another slip up.  He had full control of the movements.

It was not the first time, I watched Robert replaying such bumps.  Whenever I observed Robert tripping  over something, I also noticed him repeating the incident in a well controlled manner.

I remember that long ago, when we once bumped our heads as we were reading a book, Robert gently placed his forehead on mine as if he were saying, “This is what has just happened.”  I understood the communicative intent then, because he was talking to me.

On the other hand, when I observed Robert replaying his missteps, I considered that behavior to be a form of magical thinking.  Since nobody was around (I was either behind, or in another room.), Robert was not talking to anybody.

Because I also witnessed Robert repeating the faulty step three times (Slipping on dry leaves in Moose Hill Park .), I suspected that this behavior was a manifestation of obsessive compulsive disorder.

This time, three days ago, I was struck by a realization  that the reenactment was a  way Robert was  telling  himself what  had just happened.  He was communicating with  himself… without words. The fact that in the park, he replayed his slip-up three times, probably meant, that he couldn’t get it right on the first two trials.  He wanted to be exact and to understand the incident correctly.

I have been trying to understand the  ramifications of Robert’s reenactments for the three days now. I am concerned.

The fact that Robert communicates even with himself without words, is not to be taken lightly.